#I wouldn’t put it past him he is his parents son and they all love science | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asahicore · 2 years ago

Text

all i see is gold - pjs (m)

this work contains smut - minors please do not interact

pairing. jay x fem!reader

synopsis. Pretending to be your number one's rival girlfriend to please his parents isn't how you would usually spend a Thursday night, but you really owe Jay a big one this time. You'd sworn this was just a one-time thing - and yet when his parents ask you to come again, the word 'yes' is out before you can stop it. Before you know it and much to your dismay, your feelings for Jay start to change, and you're in too deep to backtrack.

genre. college au, academic rivals to lovers, fake dating au, rich rich millionaire ceo's son jay x poor ass scholarship part-time job reader

warnings. heeseung is a mega asshole sorry to this man, slight violence like the girls are fighting, these two are pathetically in love w each other it's laughable actually, rich people being annoying slightly and also y/n's friends having way too much knowledge about fanfiction tropes... i like my fourth walls broken

word count. 27.1k

a/n. hi sisters user asahicore is back with another repost because she can't be asked to come up with anything original... sorry! i did add a new scene to this fic for.. character development. hope you guys enjoy it, as always let me know your thoughts otherwise i will find you and hold you at gunpoint, have fun love you stay healthy keep slaying bye bye!

“Actually, I think what you just said is complete bull.”

Jay rolled his eyes for the thousandth time in an hour and a few sniggers were heard around the room.

Your tutor sighed and, in an exhausted tone, asked you to “keep it polite, please. This is still a classroom setting.”

“Right, sorry.” You cleared your throat and sat up straighter. “I completely disagree with your statement, Jongseong. Just because a movie has young teenage girls as its target audience doesn’t mean it is completely insipid and has no value, like you’re insinuating. If you look at Mean Girls, for example-”

Jay scoffed. “Oh please, you’re not actually going to use Mean Gir-”

“Ah, would you look at the time? Class is over,” your tutor interrupted. “You can all go home and ponder the riveting discussion Jay and Y/N led today.”

You were pretty sure you heard a general sigh of relief from your classmates. After all, you couldn’t really blame them: it was only the first tutorial of the semester for that course and Jay and you were already at each other’s throats, having something to say about every idea the other put forward, no matter how small.

“Oh, and Jay, I do have to side with Y/N here. There’s a surprising amount of things that can be said about that film,” your tutor admitted with an apologetic smile. You, however, were harboring a triumphant expression. Nothing better than having the tutor agree with you against Jay.

As you packed your stuff away, mentally patting yourself on the back, Jay approached you, looking visibly annoyed. “Seriously, Y/N? Symbolism in Modern Cinema? Since where do you even care about movies?”

You gasped dramatically and put your hand over your heart, feigning shock. “Why, I’m offended that you think you’re the only one who’s allowed to love cinema, Jongseong.”

“Yeah, it’s my thing!” he whined like a child, and you gave him a look that hopefully made him reflect on what he’d just said.

You started walking out of the room and he followed, a step behind you. “I mean, there’s no way you didn’t know I was taking this class. Are you like, obsessed with me or something?”

“Yes, Jongseong, that’s exactly the case. I’m sooooo obsessed with you, I took this class just to see you.”

You were obviously joking, but he looked at you with a smirk and said, “I wouldn’t put it past you. I wouldn’t put it past anyone, to be honest; I mean I am the most good-looking, smartest, richest guy on camp- Ouch! That hurts!”

You had just punched him in the shoulder, not wanting to listen to his self-indulgent ramblings. “Get your head out of your ass, Park. I just thought it would be an interesting class. Why are you even taking it, anyway? I don’t think a cinema course is gonna teach you much on how to run daddy’s company,” you asked him, a smirk teasing your lips.

He rolled his eyes (you thought they might stay stuck at the back of his head, with how often he did that) and took a tone one might use to speak to a child. “You see, Y/N, I also major in Visual Studies. I’m not a single honors Econ major like you. Loser.”

He’d added the last word with a playful smile on his face, purposefully trying to rile you up. You were about to reply with an equally petty remark when you heard your name being called out.

“Y/N! Wait up!”

You could recognize that voice anywhere. Your heart started beating a thousand times a minute and you felt your hands get clammy. As you turned around, you forced a relaxed smile and told yourself to stay calm, but as soon as you made eye contact with the boy, all rational thought left your brain.

“H-hi, Heeseung.” You heard Jay snort behind you but were too entranced by Heeseung’s presence to tell him off.

Clearly enjoying your nervousness, Heeseung smiled at you and bent down so that he came directly face to face with you. “It was nice seeing you last Friday. You should come to our parties more often, not many people can set fire to the dance floor like you did.”

Your cheeks had already turned bright red when he’d called your name, but now you probably looked as crimson as a fire extinguisher. Over the weekend, you’d tried so hard to forget about that party where you had gotten black-out drunk and made a fool of yourself on the dance floor. Sure, you’d had a lot of fun, but when you remembered that Heeseung literally lived in the frat house that had hosted the pre-start of term gathering, you’d felt so embarrassed and wanted to never have to face him ever again. Yet here he was, and he had obviously seen you.

“O-oh, right, haha. Um, I was pretty drunk, but, yeah, um, it was f-fun.” You cringed at yourself. Where was the Y/N that had torn down Jay’s every argument just moments prior? You were usually self-assured and confident, but whenever you were around Heeseung, you didn’t know how to act.

Heeseung stood up straighter and patted your head. You thanked yourself for having washed your hair that morning. He chuckled and said, “That’s good to hear. Guess I’ll see you around, then?”

“Yeah!” you replied with a tad too much enthusiasm.

“Great.” As he walked past you, you didn’t need to turn around to see the nasty looks exchanged between Heeseung and Jay.

“Jongseong.”

“Heeseung.”

The venom with which they had spat the other’s name would’ve sent a chill down your spine any other time, but right now, you were too busy mooning over what had just happened. Like many girls on campus, you’d had a crush on him since freshman year; but unlike most, you’d never actually tried to do anything about it. Realistically, you could probably bag him - Heeseung could be seen with a different girl at every party and didn’t seem to be too picky about who he finished the night with. But you also couldn’t stand the idea of being just another drunk fuck to him. So, you’d never revealed your feelings to him, although he could most definitely see the effect he had on you.

As soon as he was out of earshot, Jay burst into laughter. You turned around and looked at him, arms crossed, waiting for him to be done with an impatient look on your face. When he finally caught his breath, he had tears pooling at his eyes and was holding onto his belly.

“H-hi, Heeseung,” he breathed, trying to imitate you by making his voice higher in pitch but laughing too hard for it to come out properly.

“There’s nothing funny about this, Jongseong.”

“Oh, but there is, Y/N. And you know what the worst part is? You could do so, so much better than that guy. I mean, he’s a Business major, for fuck’s sake.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” you asked hotly, starting to get defensive.

“You’re studying Econ, Y/N. Dating a Business major, that’s like, the highest betrayal possible.”

You rolled your eyes at his stupid values and started walking towards the exit of the building, bumping into his shoulder on the way. He started following you again and added, “It’s not even just about that, Y/N. You know his reputation, he’s clearly bad news. There’s no point in liking a guy like that.”

Because you knew how much he hated it, you always made sure to call him Jongseong instead of Jay. But right now, you didn’t feel like joking around. You turned around abruptly, Jay almost bumping into you, and looked at him pointedly. “Look, Jay, I know you and Heeseung have this weird competition between the two of you of whose dad can make more money. But that doesn’t give you the right to tell me I shouldn’t like him.” And with a mumble, you added, “I can’t help liking him, okay?”

You went on your way again and Jay caught up with you so that the two of you were now walking side by side. Sighing, he said, “Whatever. When he inevitably hurts you, though, I’ll say I told you so.”

—

After flipping off Jay as your way of saying goodbye, you joined your friends in the cafeteria. You told them about your encounter with Heeseung, and as much as they wanted to support you, they couldn’t help but think your behavior at the party on Friday was hilarious.

“I wasn’t gonna show this to anyone, but I can’t hold it in anymore…” Sunoo said, pulling out his phone.

It wasn’t hard to guess what he might be hiding in there, so you quickly protested, “It’s been three days, Sunoo. I’m sure you can hold in whatever it is longer than that.”

He looked at you with a sheepish smile and said, as if he didn’t have a choice but to show everyone, “It’s so funny though.”

Sieun and Keeho were urging him to show them, so you just hung your head as Sunoo pressed play. You didn’t even need to look at the video to know what it was: even in his drunken state, Sunoo had had the foresight to film you as you danced like there was no tomorrow, knowing this was a special occasion. Your friends tried to reassure you that you didn’t look that bad and you just seemed to be having fun, but the sniggers they tried to hold back in vain told you otherwise.

Keeho seemed to take pity on you when seeing your defeated expression. “Y/N, I promise you it’s not that bad. You were very obviously drunk, and so was everyone else. If anybody remembers this, they’re probably thinking that you were fucking awesome. Can’t you see how everyone is cheering you on in the video?”

With an exasperated sigh, you replied, “I don’t care that everybody saw me. I care that Heeseung did. I only started drinking that much because I thought it’d help me relax and talk to him. I didn’t think I’d go wild on the dance floor.”

Your friends exchanged a look and immediately burst into laughter. You wanted to get mad at them, but even you had to admit the whole situation was pretty funny. You let them make as much fun of you as their hearts desired, then, to change the subject, told them about the tutorial you had in the morning with Jay and how much fun it had been arguing with him.

Sieun was looking at you thoughtfully, until she said, “You know, I think it’s…” she paused for a second, trying to find the right word, “interesting, how much effort you put into getting into the same class as Jay when you could’ve directed that energy towards getting into one of Heeseung’s class.”

The sudden statement took you aback. “Well, I wouldn’t say I put that much effort into it…” you stammered in an attempt to defend yourself.

“Y/N,” Keeho started, an accusatory tone to his words, “you literally asked Jake to tell you what courses he was taking this semester and when his tutorials were, and when you somehow managed to be enrolled in a class that’s supposed to be reserved for Visual Studies students, you emailed the tutor to make sure you’d be in the same group as Jay. I’d say that requires some effort.”

You huffed, mildly offended. “I- Well- I just thought it’d be fun to argue with him about something else than economics, you know. There’s only so much to say about that.” Your friends didn’t look very convinced. “Plus, there are no classes that Heeseung’s taking that seemed interesting, and even if they were and I managed to get into them, I just would’ve stuttered trying to answer easy questions. At least if I’m in a class with Jay, I know it’ll be fun.”

After that last sentence, Sieun looked at you like you had proven her point. What a smartass, you thought. What was she even trying to prove?

“Is no one gonna say it?” Sunoo asked, bewildered, looking around at your friends. “It sounds like you like him, Y/N.”

Oh.

Your automatic response was to go, “Pfffft,” but when Sieun and Keeho didn’t disagree with Sunoo, you looked at them, wide-eyed. “Are you guys serious? I don’t like Park Jongseong, that’s ridiculous.”

Sure, you liked arguing with Jay, that wasn’t a secret. That didn’t mean you liked him, or anything like that. Just the thought made you shiver. Dating Jay had never even occurred to you; as soon as you’d met, you had taken on a rival-like relationship, arguing about everything and anything. Sure, he was smart, and not too bad-looking, and he was really rich, and when he wanted he could actually be quite nice - but that was not the point! Most of the time, he was just annoying and argued with you for no reason other than to rile you up, and had the most unreasonable opinions you’d ever heard. He took his wealth for granted and sometimes came across as so privileged it made you want to puke.

Sieun took your hands in hers and tried to convince you with her eyes, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “But think about it, Y/N. It’s the enemies to lovers trope!”

You snatched your hands out from her grip and gave her a pointed look. “This isn’t Wattpad, Sieun, this is real life. And Jay and I aren’t enemies, we’re merely rivals.”

“Even better!” she exclaimed.

“I completely agree with Sieun,” Sunoo said. “Y/N, you’re such a rivals to lovers type of gal.” You rolled your eyes, but Keeho was fervently nodding his head in agreement.

“By the way, did you guys hear about his parents’ company throwing a fundraiser?” Keeho said. This piqued your interest, but after your friends’ accusations, you couldn’t look too excited about anything Jay-related, so you nonchalantly asked him to go on. “It’s for some charity, they’ve invited all the big names, and apparently it’s gonna be huge so they need some people to waiter. I’m thinking of applying. It pays really well and it’s gonna be so fancy. It’s not like I’ve got much else to do that night anyway.”

“When is it?” you asked, still trying not to sound too interested.

“Friday in two weeks.”

“Well, if it’s a Friday, I’ll be getting wasted, so count me out,” Sunoo replied.

“I’d come, but the idea of serving rich people as they give out ten thousand dollars when they could give a million and it wouldn’t even affect them in the slightest, not to mention having to do it with a smile on my face, makes my skin crawl, so no thanks,” Sieun said. She wasn’t wrong, but this was also Jay’s parents you were talking about. Not only would Jay be there, and your presence would surely piss him off, but his dad’s company was one of the top of the country and being introduced to their world, maybe even getting to know some people there, even just as a waitress, could really benefit you in the long-term. You’d never admit it to him, but you’d been dreaming of working there ever since you’d first heard of it. Nothing might come out of this, but it was worth trying.

“What about you, Y/N? You in?”

You looked at Keeho and said, “Yeah, let’s do it.”

—

The next time you saw Jay was for your Economics of Cities and Regions lecture a couple days later. As appropriate of the top students, you two always sat at the very front row along with only a few other brave students. Keeho was always bugging you to sit with him at the back, but you liked being able to look the professor in the eye so they could see how much attention you were paying to them. You listened carefully to the whole lecture, and when it ended, you turned to Jay and called his name in a sickly sweet voice, smiling as warmly as you could. He turned to you with a horrified look on his face.

“Please never do that again.”

Your smile instantly dropped. You should’ve known there was no point trying to be nice to him. “So, I’ve heard about your dad’s firm’s fundraiser…”

Before you could even finish your sentence, he interrupted you. “No. No way. You’re not working there. Nope. Not happening.”

“What? Why not?”

“Because this is an important night for me to make myself known as the CEO in line and I can’t have you distracting me.”

You didn’t question why he considered you a distraction and just pressed further. “C’mon! I promise I won’t be in your way.” He looked at you as if to say I don’t believe you. “I need the money.”

“Then get a part-time job.”

“I already have one! And it doesn’t pay very well.”

He looked at you and crossed his arms over his chest. No, you didn’t notice how his shirt tightened around his biceps. Shut up. Exasperated, he asked, “Do you even know what this fundraiser is for?”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Why did you need to know what it was for? All you needed was to work there and make some money. You just shrugged “No.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “You’re unbelievable. It’s to help students in need of scholarships. You know how my parents sometimes pay for students’ tuition fees? Well,” he sighed, and started to pack up his stuff. “This is to encourage CEOs of other companies to do the same. They’ve invited a few students to talk about why scholarships are important for them.”

Interesting, you thought. It’d have been nice to be one of those students, but being a waitress was already good enough. You’d have to be quicker to get the role next time. “I’ll be part of the waitering team, so I won’t embarrass you, don’t worry.”

After a beat, Jay asked, “Why are you even telling me this? I can say no all I want, I’m not the one deciding on the staff. I’d just really, really appreciate it if you didn’t come.”

You eyed him for a second until realization hit you. Right. It wasn’t like Jay had any say in this, so why were you trying to get him to agree? It had just seemed natural to you that you’d talk to him about this.

You shook your head and said, “Well, I’m gonna go anyway. I just thought I should let you know. That way you know you’re gonna need to bring your best game to impress me.”

You noticed Keeho waving his arm impatiently at you, waiting for you to leave the lecture theater. Jay watched you walk away, and he couldn’t stop the smile spreading on his face.

—

“So… Y/N will probably be working at the fundraiser,” Jay said, looking down at his notes. As on most days, Jake and Sunghoon were over at his place, half-studying, half-messing around.

The two boys in front of him groaned in unison. He raised his head and added defensively, “What? I’ve barely said anything yet.”

“Yeah, but you’re talking about Y/N. Again,” Jake said, as if stating the obvious.

“You know, I’m actually surprised he’s managed to not mention her for that long. It’s been what, fifteen minutes since we got here?” Sunghoon half-joked.

Used to his friends’ teasing, Jay ignored them and continued. “On any other occasion, I’d be more than happy to have her around” - cue another groan from Jake and Sunghoon - “but I really have to impress my parents and all the guests that evening. If I don’t, I’m gonna have to work twice as hard.”

Indulging his friend’s rant, Jake asked, “What’s wrong with her being there? She’s not gonna go around and tell everyone you’re a little shit as she hands them champagne glasses.”

Jay rolled his eyes. “No, of course not, but I’m gonna be hyper-aware of her presence and I don’t want it to distract me.” A third groan. “Plus, I don’t like the idea of her being there as a waitress. She should be with the students who talk to the guests, she deserves it more than anybody I know.”

After a beat, Sunghoon, with gracious subtlety and tact as always, added, “You know, if you had just manned up and asked her out in freshman year when you still had the chance, maybe you could’ve taken her to the fundraiser as your girlfriend and not have her go there as a waitress. Just saying.”

“It’s 2022, Sunghoon, nobody says things like ‘man up’ anymore.”

“You dumbass, is that all you’re hearing from what I just said-”

“What I think Sunghoon is trying to say,” Jake cut in, “is that this could have been avoided had you had the guts to tell her how you feel. But rest assured, my friend, it can still happen. No such thing as too late.”

“You always say that, but how the fuck am I supposed to ask her out when she’s only ever seen me as her rival? Plus, she’s head over heels for that prick.”

Sensing that Sunghoon was getting ready to deliver another one of his punchlines, Jake quickly replied. “Who cares about Heeseung? It wouldn’t be hard to make her see what an asshole he is. And once that’s done, you can just give her the Park charm,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Sunghoon fake gagged at the thought of his friend trying to flirt, and even Jay had to admit he hated how Jake had formulated his sentence. “That’s all I do though. As soon as we met, we got into arguing, and that’s just how we communicate now. She wants competition, so I give her competition. I don’t know what else to do.”

His friends sighed, unsure what to tell him after having had the same conversation hundreds of times. “Did you ask her why she took that cinema course? I thought it was weird she asked me for all that info. She wanted me to keep hush-hush about it, too,” Jake asked.

Jay thought for a second, then answered, “I did ask her if she was obsessed with me.” A fourth, deserved, groan. “She just said she thought the class seemed interesting. She didn’t even know I was a double major, by the way.”

Jake and Sunghoon chuckled, both thinking but not daring to say that, indeed, no one knew Jay also majored in Visual Studies. The three boys continued chatting for a while until they fell into silence and finally started getting some work done.

Jay managed to get you out of his head for a couple hours, but when his friends left and he was alone, his thoughts immediately drifted back to you. When the two of you first met in freshman year, you had become instant rivals, both top of your class, and always disagreeing on everything. He hadn’t minded the dynamic at first: he thought your ideas and the conversations that stemmed from them were always interesting, and he had a lot of respect for you. He wanted to know why you thought that way or what made you say certain things, and soon enough he wanted to know everything about you. He’d noticed things like how you chewed on your pen when you were in deep reflection, or how you’d look intently at anyone who was talking, as if you were making mental bullet points of their arguments only to break them down afterwards. When he finally realized his feelings for you (not without help from Jake and Sunghoon, who thought he couldn’t get any more obvious), he felt like your rivalry-almost-turned-friendship had gone too far, and you’d think he was stupid for liking you. It didn’t help that your confident attitude always broke down in front of his arch nemesis Lee Heeseung, making it painfully clear that you had a crush on him.

That night, he kept tossing and turning in his bed, trying to fall asleep. He hated the idea of you having to be there as a waitress, handing out drinks and mini toasts to entitled guests who probably wouldn’t even look at you. There had to be a few strings he could pull, right?

—

In all twenty years of your life, you had never been to a place like this. As soon as you’d entered the lobby of the building in which the fundraiser took place, you’d been overwhelmed by the sheer extravagance of the room. Every surface was shiny marble, the ceilings were at least fifteen meters high and the whole place was lit up by tiny wall lamps. You were almost scared to see what the actual ballroom would look like.

The fundraiser started at 8:00 p.m. but the staff had been advised to come earlier to prepare everything. You went further in, and now that you had somehow acclimated to your surroundings, you noticed how busy everyone was. People were running around, going from the kitchen to the back room to the main hall in quick strides. You tried getting one woman’s attention, hoping she could direct you to where you were supposed to go.

“Sorry, hi, where do the wai-”

She stopped dead in her tracks and barely looked at you as she whipped out a sheet of paper from her blouse pocket and asked for your name.

“Um, Y/N-”

She checked something off and looked up at you and smiled. “Great, follow me.” You had no time to ask anything else before she swiveled on her heels again and marched towards another room, you in tow behind her. “We’ve got a script ready for you. You just need to learn it in time for tonight and then use your charm on the guests. Oh, and don’t worry about your outfit and all that, we’ve got it covered. Good luck!” And with that, she was off.

Script? Outfit? What was all this about? You panic-texted Keeho, telling him some lady had dragged you somewhere and told you to learn a whole script. When he didn’t answer after five minutes, you assumed he must be busy helping out, but it made you panic even more. You looked around the room and noticed a girl you thought you recognized from one of your classes. You walked up to her, and after saying hi, asked her what the hell was going on here.

She looked at you a bit oddly, as if it didn’t make sense you didn’t know where you were, but clarified things nonetheless. “Basically, the six of us are going to be wearing these tags so that the guests know who we are, and we’re gonna give them a pity story about how we’re so poor but also so smart and able to change the world if only they give us money. That’s what the script is for, it just makes it a bit nicer.” Right, that’s what Jay had told you. But why were you here when you had signed up to be a waitress? It was what you had wished for, but it made no sense whatsoever.

Registering your still confused expression, the girl went on, “They’re also gonna give us nice outfits and make us look more presentable. But not too much, you know, cause a thousand dollar gown wouldn’t really fit with the scholarship kid aesthetic.” You laughed with her. You had to admit the whole situation was a bit ridiculous, but if it could help you out, you would take it. You had needed to take out a loan when you started studying, and the enormous debt you would be in as soon as you stepped out of college already stressed you out.

You learned your script, which was actually just more like detailed examples of the things you should say and what direction your conversations with the guests should take, until somebody called out your name, telling you it was time to get you ready. You were led to another room which was full of clothing racks holding fancy dresses and suits. Your immediate thought was that the clothes in this one room were probably worth more than your entire house.

You could only admire the room for a few moments before a stylist threw a dress in your arms and practically pushed you into a dressing room. You took a good look at black dress before putting it on. It wasn’t overly fancy; the girl you had talked to was right, it wouldn’t make sense for you to look like you were the richest person there. With its modest cleavage and mid-thigh length, it was what you assumed to be formal enough for this type of event, and surprisingly fit you like a glove. It made you look put-together and accentuated your features in the subtlest way.

When you walked out of the dressing room, the stylist eyed you up and down, adjusting the dress here and there, then stepped back and mumbled absent-mindedly, as if thinking out loud, “Wow, he does have good taste.”

You didn’t have the time to ask her what she meant as she had already turned away, looking for jewelry to finish off your outfit. The earrings, necklace and ring she gave you weren’t huge 20 carat diamonds, but you’d never worn such delicate jewelry before, you were almost too scared to move with them on you in fear of breaking them. The stylist, however, didn’t seem too fussed, and as soon as she was done, said, “Well, that’s all for me. Off you go to hair and makeup now!”

Hair and makeup? You were going to get your hair and makeup done by professionals? You felt like a celebrity. Your whole life, your mom had cut your hair, and you bought your makeup at the drugstore.

While they didn’t make you look like a Hunger Games Capitol citizen, when they were done with you, the reflection that looked back at you in the mirror was uncanny. You were still you, there was no doubt about that, but you looked like a perfect version of yourself, which only makeup expertly applied could create. Although they’d never seen you before, the makeup artist had managed to accentuate or make disappear lines you had never noticed on your face before, and the hair stylist had done your hair in a simple but very flattering manner, letting it cascade naturally down your shoulders.

The stylists let you admire yourself for a few moments, knowing you probably weren’t used to such pampering, but soon ushered you out to the ballroom; the fundraiser was just about to start, and you needed to be there for the beginning of it. You were made to sit at a table with the other students at the front, close to the stage. An organizer came to see you and explained how the evening was going to go down. Most of the evening would be spent standing, chatting to the guests and persuading them to donate, except when the main course was served. There was no fixed seating chart, so you could go with whomever invited you to sit with them. All in all, your goal was to be as likable as possible, and get guests to understand why scholarships were important without sounding desperate, just like the script indicated.

Tapping your foot nervously, you watched as more people trickled in, each looking richer than the previous. Soon enough, the whole room was seated, and a man you recognized as Jay’s dad arrived on the stage, welcomed by polite applause. You listened intently to his welcome speech, and you could see Jay’s presence and charisma in him; every word of his seemed to be thought out and to have purpose. He did a spectacular job at kicking off the fundraiser, and you were clapping enthusiastically when he was done, not expecting what he was about to do.

With an extended hand, he pointed at you and the five students you were sitting with. “Of course, this wouldn’t be possible without these six brilliant students whom we have the honor of welcoming tonight. Would you all come up on stage with me?” he asked warmly, although you knew it wasn’t really a question. You all looked at each other bemusedly, but you didn’t have much of a choice, so you all got up and walked up the stairs to the stage.

You hadn’t realized how many people were attending until you were standing right in front of them. The bright spots lighting the stage made it hard to distinguish anyone’s face in the crowd, which only made your position more intimidating to you. Thankfully, you didn’t have to introduce yourself; Jay’s dad did it for you, and after a few minutes, you were free to walk off the stage and start mingling with the guests. Whew.

As soon as the six of you stepped off the stage, guests started approaching you, engaging you in conversation right away. You were a bit taken aback, but remembering you needed to be perfect tonight, you put on the most genuine smile you could muster. Them coming to you was better than having to chase after them.

An hour and a half passed, and you had been engrossed in so many conversations that you hadn’t noticed so much time had already gone. The only time your attention had been pulled out was when Keeho came to your group, offering you toasts of caviar and bubbly champagne, and discreetly (or at least as discreetly as Keeho could be, which wasn’t very) gave you a wide-eyed look, which you returned. You had no idea why you weren’t working like him either.

When somebody announced the main course would soon be served, a lot of guests went to sit down, so you were now stuck with the most pretentious man you had ever talked to. All the other guests, no matter how rich or famous or successful they were, had managed to stay somewhat humble and not flaunt how much higher they were in society than you, but it seemed that it was all this man knew how to do. You knew you needed to stay polite even in front of scum like him, but it was hard giving him your undivided attention when he was going on and on about basic economic principles you had learned in your first year of college. Your eyes started drifting around the room, until they fell on a certain someone.

Lee Heeseung was here. Of course he was; his parents, although they were rivals to the Park family, were still huge names in your country’s economy, and they couldn’t not be here tonight. Heeseung’s presence wasn’t required, but you imagined it couldn’t hurt his image to be seen by many adults at a gathering like this one. He was standing by the bar, talking to a girl who was clearly trying to flirt with him, but he didn’t seem to be into her. You hadn’t meant to stare, but his eyes soon met yours. You immediately felt heat rise to your cheeks. He didn’t break eye contact, even when he replied to whatever the girl was saying. His eyes started drifting down from your face to your body, as if he was undressing you with his gaze. You opened your mouth and let out a small gasp at the sheer indecency of the way he was looking at you. The sound you made made you snap out of your daze, and you turned your attention back to the man in front of you, who hadn’t even noticed you weren’t listening to him anymore, so enthralled he was by his own conversation.

You excused yourself, not wanting to be in Heeseung’s sight anymore. You weren’t sure what to make of the interaction - you loved the idea of Heeseung paying so much attention to you, but there was something about the setting and the fact that he was talking with another girl the whole time which made you a bit uncomfortable. Disheveled, you sat down at the nearest table, not paying much attention to who was there.

“Everything alright, miss Y/N?”

That voice was too familiar. Of course, you just had to sit next to Jay’s dad, a.k.a. one of the richest CEOs in the country, a.k.a. the man behind this fundraiser. You changed your expression from distressed to spirited, not wanting him to think you weren’t handling tonight well. Before you could say anything to reassure him, he added, “Not easy, is it, entertaining so many people? I’m sure you’ll get used to it.”

Relief immediately washed over you. You looked down and said, “It hasn’t been too bad, just depends on the person you’re talking to.”

He chuckled. “I thought I saw you talking to CEO Jung. Or rather, CEO Jung talking at you. Sorry about him, he’s just the kind of person you have to learn to deal with.”

You continued talking to Mr Park, and he even invited you to stay at his table when the main course was served. He was surprisingly easy to converse with; he intently listened to you, even though he probably met infinitely more interesting people than you every day, and bounced off of your words naturally. You wondered how such an easy-going man could give birth to an argumentative boy like Jay.

You suddenly wondered where Jay was. You hadn’t seen him all evening, and he wasn’t sitting at his dad’s table either. You assumed he’d be busy with other people, but you couldn’t help being curious about his whereabouts. Not wanting to look around the room searching for him and appear disinterested in his dad, you just asked him directly if he knew where his son was.

Mr Park quirked an eyebrow and asked, “Oh, you know my son?”

“Yes, we’ve had a lot of classes together since freshman year,” you explained.

He seemed deep in thought for a second, until he started slowly nodding his head as if he’d just figured something out. “Of course, you’re Y/N. I knew that name was familiar.”

Why would your name be familiar to Jay’s dad? “Oh, did Jay mention me or some-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Mr Park said, “Ah, there he is,” gaze directed behind your shoulder. And indeed, as you turned around, you saw Jay coming towards your table.

“Dad, mind if I steal Y/N for a second?”

“She’s all yours,” he replied, sending a wink his son’s way. You looked at Jay and he seemed just as confused about his dad’s words as you. But then his eyes found yours and he motioned for you to get up and follow him with a tilt of his head.

“It was really nice talking to you, Mr Park, thank you so much for your time.”

“Of course. It was lovely meeting you, Y/N. I’m sure we’ll see each other soon enough,” he said with a knowing smile.

You didn’t even try figuring out what he meant, and just walked with Jay as he took you to a quieter area of the ballroom. Most people had finished eating and had stood up again, so you’d needed to weave through them, and Jay put a hand on your lower back to guide you better. You ignored the warmth that spread on your skin where he touched you, blaming it on the glasses of champagne you’d had.

When you’d reached a spot where you could talk easily, he turned towards you with a smirk. “I can’t believe you’re already charming your way up to my dad. You’re definitely ambitious, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes but then remembered where you were and thought it might be best to not give in to Jay’s taunts here, so you kept your voice low when you replied. “I didn’t even do it on purpose. I just sat there, and he happened to already be at the table.”

His smirk only grew wider. “Right.” Then he stepped back a bit, and took a good look at you. Unlike Heeseung’s gaze earlier, the way Jay looked at you in that moment, like you were the only thing worth looking at in this beautiful ballroom, made butterflies erupt in your stomach. God, you really had had too much champagne. “I knew that dress would look good on you.”

You should’ve been flustered by the compliment, but you were too confused by Jay’s words: how could he have known about this? Why did he make it sound like he had chosen the dress? The stylist’s words from earlier suddenly pop up in your mind: “he does have good taste.” There was also the fact that you had applied to work as a waitress tonight but ended up as one of the scholarship students. Slowly, things started piecing together in your mind, and you looked up at the well-dressed, smirking boy in front of you in disbelief.

“Jay. Did you do this?”

“Do what?” he said, an innocent tone to his voice, but a mischievous look in his eyes.

Your eyes widened and you lightly slapped his arm. “You did! I- You- Ugh. Thanks, I guess,” you muttered, looking down at your shoes. You were beyond grateful, but your ego stopped you from being too showy about it.

He smiled at you, and you ignored how much you loved it. “It was no big deal. Just had to change your name from the waitering group to the student reps. Took me two seconds,” he said, following your gaze down, bashfully admitting to helping you out.

“Why’d you do it?”

Because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and the world should know about it, was his immediate thought. But of course, he’d never say that out loud, so he opted for, “I just felt bad for you, really. I know you like to think of us as rivals, so I thought the least I could do was to put us on equal footing tonight.”

Although you had a feeling he wasn’t telling you everything, you weren’t going to press any further. You chatted for a bit longer, the both of you enjoying a relaxed conversation after hours on being on your best behavior, and your ability of talking normally to Jay and not wanting to claw his eyes out surprised you, not to mention the fact that you were… enjoying yourself.

“Anyway, I’m doing the closing speech soon. I’m gonna be awesome, so look closely, yeah?” You knew he wanted to look cool, but you thought he sounded like an excited kid who was about to put on a show for his family. How cute, you thought, and immediately chased that thought away from your brain. That damn champagne must’ve been laced with something.

You both went back into the crowd, and quickly your name was called out by someone you had talked to earlier who wanted to introduce you to someone else. You quickly waved goodbye at Jay, a smile on your face. If anybody had seen him, they would’ve noticed how his cheeks fired up and how he waved excitedly back at you.

And indeed, he had been seen.

His dad had been talking with one of his business partners, but tried to keep some of his attention on you and Jay. He couldn’t help but be curious as to why his son, who had previously never expressed any romantic interest in anyone, was suddenly making sure you attended the fundraiser as a student rep and not a waitress, and why he’d even gone the extra mile and chosen your dress for you. He hadn’t missed the way his son’s face lit up when he was talking to you, and how his gaze lingered on you as you walked away. But he also hadn’t missed how you’d followed Jay without hesitation, and how relaxed you’d looked talking to him. He thought the both of you acted as if it was just you two in a room full to the brim with people. When his wife joined him at the table, he’d told her about their son’s unusual behavior, and she said that she had noticed him looking around as if searching for someone a few times during the evening. They exchanged a knowing smile.

Heeseung had also noticed Jay leading you away from the crowd, and had intently watched your interaction, not even trying to make the girl he was talking to think he was still paying attention to her. He knew you had a crush on him; you couldn’t make it any more obvious. But he also knew how comfortable, how yourself you were around Jay; he’d seen the two of you banter around campus, always arguing about something, whether it was the new law that was being put into place or whether pineapple belongs on pizza or not. Heeseung wasn’t stupid, he’d seen enough rom-coms to know that the girl always ended up with the friend she joked around with and not the hot popular guy that made her feel nervous.

Jay and him had been rivals since he could remember, and not rivals like you and Jay, but proper rivals, who actually had to fight for something. Well, technically, it was their fathers who were competing as CEOs of some of the top firms in the country, but since they were bound to take their place at some point, it had felt like their competition as well. Nothing was off-limits when it came to their rivalry, and you were most definitely not an exception, not to Heeseung. He couldn’t stand seeing Jay have something he didn’t. At that moment, he made up his mind.

Heeseung had to have you.

But before that, Jay needed to give his closing speech. As soon as he’d stepped on the stage, the chatter started to quiet down, and everyone turned their attention to him. Much like you earlier, he hadn’t realized how bright the lights were when standing onstage. He could only see over a hundred people staring right at him, and his confident demeanor from moments ago crumbled at his feet. He scanned the crowd for your face, desperately needing something, or rather someone, to anchor him. When his eyes finally found yours, he felt strength regaining his body. His mother followed his gaze and found you looking right at her son, sending a reassuring smile and thumbs-up his way.

Jay’s speech went very smoothly, and everybody congratulated him for it as they left the room.

—

Back home after a stressful but rewarding evening, all Jay wanted to do was take a shower and pass out in bed. But his parents had other plans.

“So…” started his mother, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“So?” Jay asked, already fearing whatever his mom was about to say.

“Y/N’s a nice girl,” she simply stated, hoping Jay’s reaction would give her more to go on.

And oh boy did it. He immediately started blushing and stuttering at the sudden mention of your name. He knew you’d spoken with his father at the fundraiser, but he hadn’t thought his mom would bring you up.

“Y-Y/N? Yeah, I guess. But what about her?” he said, looking away and trying to sound uninterested, but blatantly failing.

His parents exchanged a look. “C’mon, son,” his dad picked up, “you don’t need to hide something like that from us. We’re very happy that you’ve found a nice girlfriend like Y/N.”

A nice… girlfriend? Had Jay heard that correctly? His parents thought you two were… dating?

As he stared at them wide-eyed and mouth agape, they just chuckled softly at him. “It’s okay, Jay, really. She made a dazzling impression on all of the guests tonight, and on us. She’s exactly the kind of person you should be dating, so don’t worry about us getting in your way of anything. We approve of your relationship.”

Jay started laughing in disbelief, and his parents just took it as a sign of his relief. If only they knew. “Right,” he said between chuckles, “thanks, guys.”

Why he didn’t deny what his parents were saying was beyond him. A part of him didn’t want to disappoint them by telling them the truth - his mother had always urged him to get a girlfriend, saying he wouldn’t have the time for dating later on in his career, that he should enjoy his college years as much as he could. Another part of him loved the idea of dating you, and it hurt him too much to shatter that thought.

So he just nodded along, saying he was glad they liked you.

“We really did,” said his father. “In fact, you should bring her over for dinner sometime this week. It’d be nice getting to know her in a less formal setting, don’t you think? Ask her what she likes, I’ll ask the chef to cook it specially for her.”

“S-sure,” Jay said, already panicking - he’d either have to come up with an excuse as to why you couldn’t come to dinner, or with ways to convince you to be his pretend-girlfriend for a night. If he actually did ask you, he’d have to be very careful about it, otherwise it’d end up with you trying to pull his hair out.

What the hell had he gotten himself into?

—

At 10:43 a.m. the next day, you were waiting for Jay in front of the library. Right when you were about to turn your bedside lamp off, you’d received a text from him, asking to meet. Apparently, there was something he needed to tell you, and whatever it was, you were absolutely dreading it. Jay always had a lot of things to say, but he’d never felt the need before to warn you in advance that he needed to tell you something. Those kinds of messages were never very pleasant, and even less so when they came from Park Jongseong. Rereading the messages, you really couldn’t figure out what was so important that required you to take a break from your weekly Saturday morning study sessions.

00:44 archnemesis: Hey Y/N

00:44 archnemesis: Are you still up?

00:44 you: do NOT fuckboy text me jongseong

00:44 archnemesis: Sorry

00:45 you: go away im trying to sleep

00:45 archnemesis: Not trying hard enough obviously

00:45 you: shut up

00:45 you: what do u want

00:45 archnemesis: I need to tell you something.

00:45 archnemesis: Can we meet up tomorrow morning?

00:46 you: wtf

00:46 you: what is it ???

00:47 you: cant u just tell me now??

00:49 you: jay ???

00:49 archnemesis: Um.

00:49 archnemesis: I’ll tell you tomorrow!

00:49 archnemesis: :D

0:49 archnemesis: library 10:45?

0:50 you: ughhhhh

00:50 you: yeah whatever

00:50 you: this better be worth it istg

00:51 archnemesis: Good night Y/N <3

00:51 you: EWWWW

You’d stayed awake for a while after that, trying to figure out whatever it was he needed to tell you, but the only thing you were sure about was that it had something to do with the fundraiser, since he’d texted you after it. Had he finally realized how superior in every aspect you were to him and would finally bow down to you? That seemed pretty unlikely. Did one of the guests there really like you and had spontaneously decided to pay for your studies and offer you an internship at their company? Were they impressed by your intellect and wanted you to become their kids’ private tutor? Possible. Or even better, maybe it was Jay’s parents whose attention you had particularly caught, and they wanted to reward you in some way. Maybe they thought you were amazing and that you’d be a perfect girlfriend for their son, and Jay, ever the daddy’s boy, would now shower you with gifts and attention in order to capture your heart.

Ha, as if, you thought, laughing to yourself. It was a lot less funny when Jay told you about the little misunderstanding.

You were sitting at the library café with Jay, who’d wanted to postpone delivering the news as much as possible and had bribed you with the promise of free hot coffee. Well, free for you, at least. Not that a coffee would create much of a dent in his bank account. After five minutes of chit-chatting, you were getting annoyed with him and didn’t understand why he was being so uncharacteristically awkward and asked him to cut straight to the chase. When he told you his parents thought you were his girlfriend and wanted to have you over for dinner this week, it took all you had to not spit the coffee right in his face. Not only was it ridiculous, it was practically exactly what you had imagined.

“Are you kidding me, Jongseong? I can barely pretend to be your friend, how the hell am I gonna pretend to be your girlfriend?”

Your words were like bullets piercing right through his body, but he had to ignore the pain, telling himself you were just shocked by the sudden news. “I’m sorry, Y/N, I just- I panicked, and I didn’t know how to tell them the truth. They seemed so happy,” he said, head hung low. You knew he was genuinely sorry, because he’d almost never actually said those words to you, so he had to mean them. The only other time you could think of was when he’d dropped his water bottle all over your laptop. The next day, he’d offered you a brand new MacBook with all of his notes already downloaded on it.

You sighed, unsure what to make of the whole situation. At any other time, your first reaction would’ve been to flip Jay off and tell him to get out of his own mess, but you felt like you owed him after what he’d done for you at the fundraiser. Even though he made it seem like no big deal, it still meant a lot to you that you’d gotten to spend the evening making yourself known to the guests and not serving them smoked salmon toasts, and that was all thanks to him.

“I guess I do owe you one, Jongseong.” His head snapped up and he looked at you with the most hopeful eyes you’d ever seen. “But before you get carried away,” you warned, “this is a one-time thing. Find an excuse, say we broke up or whatever. Fake dating is like, the most predictable trope ever,” you said, remembering all the heated discussions you’d had on the topic with Sieun.

But Jay paid no attention to that last sentence - he leapt up from his chair and came over to your side, engulfing you in a surprisingly warm hug. He muttered thank you over and over into your hair before realizing hugging wasn’t something you guys did and he might have just made things way worse. To his relief, when he took a sudden step back, you didn’t look upset at all, but rather amused at his sudden burst of excitement.

He returned to his seat and cleared his throat. “Right. Thanks a lot, Y/N. My dad likes to have family dinners on Thursdays, so it’ll probably be then. I’ll, uh, I’ll take you there, so don’t worry about that.”

You chuckled at him. “You know I’ll never let you live this down, right?”

He sighed and shook his head, saying, “I know. But I’d rather have that than disappoint my parents, to be honest.” He smiled at you as if to take away some of the gravity of what he’d just said. You thought it wasn’t something he wanted to delve into, so you took a sip of your coffee and brought up the topic of this week’s tutorial for your cinema class, knowing it was a surefire way to start an argument with him.

—

On Monday at lunch, you were sitting at the cafeteria with your friends. Keeho was telling them how fancy you’d looked and how you’d managed to charm everyone.

“I feel like I should be jealous, but what you did looked a lot more tiring than what I did, to be honest. When you’re a waiter at that kind of event, those rich people don’t even register your presence, so they just say the wildest shit in front of you. Apparently, CEO Cha is having an affair with CEO Liu’s wife, whoever they are.”

You chuckled at your friend, feeling even more thankful towards Jay that you didn’t have to spend your evening like that. The four of you continued chatting, which mainly consisted of complaining about how you already had so much work only two weeks into the semester. You were intently listening to the niche topic Sieun was learning about in her Bio class when someone dropped a bag on the table right next to your tray. The letters ‘Gucci’ were written on it in the iconic but simple font.

Your gaze went from the bag to the person holding it, and of course, it was none other than Park Jongseong himself.

“Hey, Y/N. Hey, guys,” he said, giving your friends a simple nod. They all replied with a confused hi. You were just staring at Jay, wondering what he was doing here.

“I got you something for Thursday night,” he explained. “Gotta wow the parents, you know?” he added with a wink.

“Uh-huh” was your very clever reply. You could feel your friends’ gaze ping-ponging between you and Jay.

Jay looked around the table, an awkward silence spreading between everyone. He cleared his throat. “Well, let me know if it fits or not. See you around.” And with that, he was gone as quickly as he’d arrived. You turned back to your friends, and their confused faces echoed your own.

“What are you waiting for?” Sunoo nudged your arm. “Take a look inside!”

You took the bag on your lap and pulled out a magnificent green satin dress that was a lot more elegant than the one you’d worn at the fundraiser. You guessed Jay really did want for you to make a good impression on his parents. It seemed to be quite long and to not show too much skin, which you appreciated. You could only hope it would look as good on you as it did seeing it like this.

As soon as you’d taken it out, you’d heard your friends gasp.

“Oh.”

“My.”

“God,” they’d said in turn, obviously mesmerized by the gift.

You handed the dress to Sieun, who clearly wanted to admire it up close, and looked into the bag in case there was anything else. You were maybe hoping for a pair of earrings or a necklace, but it was wishful thinking. Instead, you found a sticky note signed Jay, which read, Wear the accessories and shoes from last week. I can’t spoil you too much just yet.

You hadn’t even noticed Sunoo was reading the note over your shoulder until he put his hand over yours in what seemed to be a confidential manner and said, with all the seriousness in the world, “Y/N, be honest with us. Is Park Jay your sugar daddy?”

Sieun and Keeho’s head snapped up and they stared at you expectantly. “What the hell? Why is that the first place your mind goes to?” you said, almost laughing in disbelief.

Bewildered, Sunoo replied, “How can it not? The wink, the Gucci gift, the note? It screams sugar daddy!”

“Wait - didn’t he say something about his parents? I’m not an expert, but I don’t think meeting the folks is sugar daddy etiquette,” Keeho mused, taking this way too seriously.

You took a deep breath. There was no point in not telling your friends what had happened, so you explained the events of the past few days to them, from Jay changing your role at the fundraiser, to his parents thinking you were dating, to dinner with them on Thursday.

When you were done bringing them up to date, they all looked at you with incredulous looks. After a moment, Sieun broke the silence: “Y/N, you’ve become a real walking rom-com. I’m so proud of you.”

Keeho was tearing his bread apart, throwing chunks into his mouth. “I don’t know. Fake dating is kinda boring, to be honest.” Sieun let out an offended gasp and Sunoo nodded in agreement.

“We’re not gonna be fake dating. Just for this one evening, I’ll pretend to be his girlfriend, and it’ll be over as quickly as it started,” you said, hoping that’d be the end of this conversation, but your friends wouldn’t back down so easily.

“Y/N, that’s literally the whole concept of fake dating. You’ll think it’s only that one time, and before you know it, you’ll be married with three children, and it won’t be fake anymore,” Sieun warned, but you just shook your head and laughed, stealing Keeho’s other piece of bread from his tray.

“You guys are blowing this way out of proportion.”

“And you’ll be blowing something else soon…” Sunoo muttered, just loud enough for your table to hear. You let out an offended gasp but Keeho and Sieun just burst into laughter.

“Sunoo!”

“What?!” he replied, imitating your outraged tone but sporting an amused smile. “Your whole rivalry thing is too cute, I can’t take it seriously. You won’t admit it to yourself, but you clearly like Jay a lot more than you do Heeseung,” he said with a shrug, as if it was all so obvious. You tried to find support in Keeho or Sieun’s eyes, but they avoided your gaze, guilty expressions on their faces.

“Guys, come on, you can’t be serious. Jongseong and I are just- we’re just-” Rivals? Friends? Soon-to-be fake boyfriend and girlfriend? Who knew anymore. You took a deep breath. “It’s not like that.”

“Whatever you say,” Sunoo sighed, but to your relief that was the end of the conversation. Your friends quickly moved on to another topic, but their words gnawed at the back of your mind like rabid bunnies. Either they were completely insane, or you had gravely misjudged Jay this whole time.

—

When Jay rang your doorbell at 7:00 p.m. sharp on Thursday, you were just done applying a thin layer of gloss on your lips. That morning, he’d texted you to ask for your address and tell you to be ready at seven. You took a good look at yourself in the mirror and headed down the stairs to get the door, but your mother had beat you to it.

Not used to keeping secrets from her, you’d told her everything. She’d looked at you curiously the whole time, a slight smirk on her face as if she knew something you didn’t. And sure enough, when you were finished talking, she’d said, “I knew there was something between you and that Jay boy. You talk way too much about him.”

Not her too, you thought, but you didn’t need to encourage her delusions by telling her your friends thought the same, so you’d tried to defend yourself. “Mom! I just told you, I’m only pretending, I’m not actually his girlfriend. If I did like him, you’d be the first to know.”

She looked at you with a knowing smile that moms loved to wear. “I do know. You’re the one who doesn’t.” You’d dismissed her with a roll of your eyes. Everybody around me’s going crazy, you thought.

When she opened the door, it revealed a very smartly-dressed Jay (but when was he not?), bouquet in hand. He immediately handed them to her and introduced himself.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Kim. I’m-”

“Jay, I know. Y/N’s mentioned you.”

“Has she?” he asked, a genuine grin blooming on his lips. You ignored how the glint of surprise and - hopefulness? - in his eyes tug at your heartstrings.

“Just once or twice, and never positively,” you interrupted, appearing next to your mom. Taking your appearance in, she nodded at you approvingly, but Jay just stood there, mouth agape, seemingly transfixed by you. He only snapped out of his daze when you called out his name.

“You ready to go?” you asked, and hoped that the heat that had traveled to your face was hidden by your makeup.

“Uh, yeah, yeah. Let’s go. It was nice meeting you, Mrs Kim.”

“You too, Jay. Thanks for the flowers. I hope Y/N will be a good fake girlfriend to you tonight.”

“Oh, you told her?” Jay asked you, looking somewhat disappointed.

“I wasn’t gonna lie to my mom about my boyfriend,” you said, nudging him out of the door. “Bye, mom!”

You ignored her reply (“Don’t have too much fun!”) and walked speedily towards Jay’s car, which looked far too expensive for this neighborhood. As you got closer, he took a few quick steps in front of you and opened the passenger door for you. You rolled your eyes, not wanting to let on how the gesture made your stomach flip. “No need to go that far, Jongseong. Don’t try to woo me.”

He hurried to the driver’s seat, looked at you with a grin and said, “Might as well get into character now.” His gaze lingered on you for a second too long, and you started feeling self-conscious when his eyes moved up and down over your body. When you coughed, he suddenly turned his attention back to the front and gulped, then started the car. He looked taken aback himself, as if he hadn’t even noticed he was staring at you. After a few seconds of silence, he said, “I really do have good fashion taste.”

Although he was technically complimenting himself, you caught yourself hoping he also meant you looked good in the dress he’d chosen for you. “You could have included shoes and jewelry, you know. I wouldn’t have taken it the wrong way,” you said with a playful tone.

“Sounds like you’re already getting used to a lavish lifestyle,” he retorted, making you smile sheepishly.

“I’m just not used to dressing up nicely like this. It’s nice,” you said truthfully. You weren’t sure where the honesty was coming from, but something about being in a car with Jay made you feel like you could say anything - it felt safe, like whatever you could tell him would stay between the two of you. What happens in Jay’s car, stays in Jay’s car, or something along those lines.

Jay wanted to tell you that if you gave him a chance, you could do this anytime you wanted. He’d buy you all the dresses you could dream of, and give you a taste of his world, which he so often found bland and shallow, but that he was sure you could light up in the blink of an eye. But he couldn’t say that, so instead, he said, “Yeah, I noticed. I don’t think anything you’ve ever done or said offended me more than that one time you showed up to class wearing a ‘where the hell have you been, loca?’ t-shirt.”

“Shut up, that shirt is amazing!”

“Maybe, but the movie it’s quoting is an absolute trashfire of a film, if you can even call it that,” he claimed, knowing it’d get a reaction out of you.

“Don’t talk shit about Twilight, Jongseong, or I’ll mess tonight up and your parents will think you’re dating a psycho.”

He turned to you with a smirk. “I’d like to see you try.”

You’d always known Jay was a confident man. It’s obvious in the way he holds his head high whenever he enters a room, or how he manages to stay calm and collected during an argument with someone who’s practically shouting at him (you, usually). And while he was always self-assured during your debates, seeing him act like this to practically flirt - could you describe it like that? - with you rendered you speechless. And you hated being speechless.

So you crossed your arms with a hmph and looked out the window, turning away so he couldn’t catch your fluttered state.

You finally arrived at his parents’ house after a half-an-hour drive (“You live so far away, do you seriously drive to campus and back everyday?” “Yes, Jay, not all of us can live in a three-bedroom flat in the middle of the city”). As soon as you walked in, his mother greeted you with a warm hug, telling you how pretty you looked, and his father clasped your hand tightly, the lines around his eyes showing as he smiled at you. By the looks of it, you wouldn’t need to do much for them to like you.

You could tell Mr Park was a businessman by the way he didn’t beat around the bush when talking to you. As soon as you’d sat down in the (or at least one of the) living rooms for drinks and small appetizers, he asked, “So, Y/N, tell us about yourself.”

Having anticipated such a question, you started, “Well, I’m an Econ major-”

“Yes, but I know there’s more to you than just academics,” Jay’s dad interrupted with a well-intentioned smile.

You looked at Jay, hoping he could help you out. He just looked back at you as if he was waiting for your answer as much as his dad was. “Right. Um. Where should I begin?” you said with an awkward chuckle. You felt a bit put on the spot, but there was only genuine curiosity in all three pairs of eyes looking at you, so you felt comfortable enough to go on.

“I’ve always lived here. Or, technically, in the suburbs. Since I spend most of my time either studying, working at my part-time job or commuting back and forth between school and home, I don’t have much time for hobbies. I just use my free time to spend time with my friends or my family.” You looked at the three people in front of you, wondering if you’d said enough. After a beat, you added, “Sorry, was that too depressing?”

Mr and Mrs Park chuckled at you, and he instantly reassured you, saying, “No, no, not at all. Tell us about your family.”

You were expecting that one too. “Well, it’s just my mother, my little sister and me. But she’s at boarding school right now, so I only see her during the holidays.”

“Boarding school - that’s pretty impressive,” commented Jay’s mom.

You smiled fondly at the thought of your little sister. “Yeah, she’s a smart cookie. Got there on a scholarship and everything. She likes it most of the time but she does complain about how the people there are all-”

You stopped yourself before your tongue could slip up and potentially offend Jay’s parents. But to your surprise, they smiled and, in turn, said, “Rich and self-centered?”

“Little kids who think they run the place when they’re only fourteen?”

A chuckle escaped you, not expecting them to share that kind of opinion with you and your sister. An amused tone in your voice, you nodded your head and said, “Yeah, exactly.”

“Yeah, I know all about those. Your boyfriend here might have been born into wealth,” he started, and you tried not to choke on your drink at Jay being referred to as your boyfriend, “but my father’s company, the one I’m in charge of now, only started being successful when I was in high school. My dad worked his way up from the ground, so he and I both know what it’s like to not be well-off. I’ve tried to not turn Jay into one of those rich kids who think they’ll rule the world just cause they have money, and… well, I hope I did a good job.”

You looked at Jay with a grin. He looked right back at you as if to say, I dare you to tell my dad he’s wrong. If this was anyone else in any other situation, you definitely would’ve told them Jay is one of the most privileged people you’ve ever met. You thought for another second - yes, Jay was definitely privileged, but there was a sort of innocence about him. He’d never used his wealth to make you feel inferior to him or anything of the sort. When he’d bought you that MacBook, it was to apologize, not to show off. It was as normal for him to have his meals cooked and laundry washed as it was for you to sigh in defeat every time the price of milk went up, even by just a cent or two.

So, still looking at him, you replied, “Yeah, I’d say you did a pretty good job.”

The way Jay’s eyes looked in that moment, fond and soft, made you want to never look away. But you didn’t want to make it awkward, so you turned back to his parents, who were watching the two of you with affection. Maybe Jay and you were a little bit too good at this whole fake-dating thing.

A maid came into the room to announce dinner was ready, and you all headed to the dining room. When plates of your favorite food arrived, you looked at Jay, astonishment written all over your face.

“How did you know?”

“You might’ve mentioned it here and there…” he sheepishly answered, knowing fully well that he’d gotten the information from a tweet you’d made eight months ago.

As conversation picked up again and you exchanged with his parents over a bunch of different topics, from childhood memories to that weird new Netflix show that’s strangely addicting, you tried to ignore Jay’s stare that was burning into the side of your face.

“What about your dad?” he suddenly asked, catching everybody in the room off guard. Noticing your confused look, he continued, “Earlier. You said it was just you, your sister and your mom. What about your dad?”

His mom furrowed her eyebrows at him and said, “Jongseong, leave her be. If she hasn’t told you, she probably doesn’t want to talk about it.”

You took a deep breath. “No, it’s alright. I don’t mind talking about it, I just don’t usually bring it up cause it makes people think of me differently? Like they start to pity me just because my dad’s out of the picture, when, really, it hasn’t affected me that much. I’ve never known him, my mom has always raised the two of us on her own.” You looked down at your hands. You hadn’t even realized you’d been fiddling your fingers. “It just seems too cliché, the poor girl who lives in the suburbs and is on a scholarship and doesn’t have a dad and redeems herself by having good grades. Which is why I like to usually keep it to myself.”

You looked back up at them and were relieved when you found understanding and not pity in their eyes. If there was one thing you didn’t want to happen, was for them to think you were leeching off of Jay or trying to get his money. Even though you weren’t actually dating, it would’ve still damaged your ego if they had seen you that way.

A few hours later, dessert was finished, and you could tell everyone was starting to tire (or had had too many glasses of wine) by the way the conversation was starting to make less and less sense. Jay was looking at the three of you in amusement, stone cold sober, as he knew he’d have to drive you home later.

“Well, Y/N, son, we’re not going to hold you hostage here any longer. You still have classes tomorrow,” Jay’s dad said.

His parents led the two of you to the door as you gathered your coat and bag. “It was so lovely getting to know you more, Y/N. You truly are a sweet girl, and we can tell you’re making our Jay very happy,” his mother said, pulling you into a hug.

“You better treat her well, son,” said Mr Park. Jay looked over at you, and there was something in his eyes you couldn’t quite explain; all you knew was that it sent shivers straight down your spine. “I will,” he simply said, but with so much honesty, it made you wonder if he actually did mean it.

“Oh, and Y/N, there’s an event this Saturday. It won’t be as fun as ours last week, but I’m sure you could find a way to enjoy it. Plus, it wouldn’t hurt for people to see what a nice, hardworking girlfriend Jay has,” his father said, beaming down at you.

Jay and you exchanged a look, and the panic at the sudden invitation made you say, “Yes, I’d love to attend!” instead of finding a palatable excuse.

You exchanged final goodbyes with his parents, and as soon as you were in the car, you let out a hearty groan.

“My God, what’s wrong with me? Why did I have to say yes to that?”

Jay started the car. “I’m surprised too. If you had given me three seconds, I could’ve come up with an excuse for you. But I mean, I’m not gonna complain.”

You turned your head towards him, a pout on your face. “What do you mean?”

Jay kept his eyes straight on the road as he answered. “Well, like he said, it won’t be a bad look for me to have you on my arm. As much as it pains me to admit, you’re charming and intelligent, and,” he glanced quickly towards you, “I have good fashion taste, so you don’t look like an absolute fool in that department either.”

You snorted at his coyness. “Just say I’m pretty and move on, Jongseong.”

“Is that what I said, though?” he asked, a devilish grin on his face.

You gasped dramatically, trying to appear as offended as possible. “Your dad literally just told you to treat me well, I’ll have you know.”

“They really fell for it, didn’t they?,” he said with a sigh. “I have to say, you did a pretty good job tonight. Almost got me wondering if you’re not used to being people’s fake date for the night.”

“Yeah, it’s my side job actually.” You smiled at each other, and when the eye contact lasted a second too long, you both quickly turned your head to the road. “So, what’s Saturday night about?” you asked, wanting to break the silence.

“Oh, it’s probably just another boring event where the grown-ups go to socialize and flaunt their wealth or their children’s prowess.”

“Wow, look at you being all critical. I thought you lived and breathed that kind of stuff.”

“I like it when it has a purpose. Like a fundraiser, or a company opening, or whatever. But this is just another excuse for people to show themselves off. You don’t have to come, you know. I can probably find a way out for you.”

Once again, without thinking, you immediately answered, “I’ll come.”

Jay glanced at you quickly, an eyebrow raised. “Wh- Really?”

You shrugged, trying to stay casual. “I mean, I don’t have anything on Saturdays. Might as well keep you company. Turns out you’re not always insufferable.” You’d lowered your voice for that last sentence, only half-heartedly admitting it. But of course, Jay wasn’t going to let you go with it.

“Huh? What was that? I don’t think I heard you,” he teased, leaning slightly towards you.

You gently nudged his shoulder, saying, “Shut up, you heard me. Just because I tolerate you slightly more doesn’t mean you’ve stopped being my number one rival.”

You’d never seen Jay smile that much. You sometimes caught glimpses of it when he was with his friends, but with you, he usually had an arrogant smirk, so seeing his genuine grin made your heart swell with joy you couldn’t explain.

“Of course not. I wouldn’t assume anything else.”

He dropped you off at your house and made sure you were inside before driving away. When you told your mom about your night, she watched you with a smile, that knowing glint in her eyes still there. When she tried hinting at you having feelings for the boy, you’d gotten off your chair and shouted good night! before heading to bed.

—

Saturday quickly rolled around the corner, and you were in your room with Sieun, trying on the two dresses Jay had given you to pick from. “They’re both good, I just wanted to see if you’d choose the best one,” he’d said. This time, he’d also included a new pair of shoes and a set of matching jewelry. Your friends kept teasing you about him being your sugar daddy (“you can’t deny it anymore, Y/N”), and you had to admit you were starting to feel a bit like that, even though you weren’t really giving him any sugar. He was just spoiling you like it was his day job.

He was right; both dresses were gorgeous. They were both black, but one of them was body-fitting with an open back, while the other cinched in at the waist and had puffy sleeves. You couldn’t deny that you looked good in the first one; Sieun had let out the loudest gap when she’d seen you in it. But you both agreed that it was on the riskier side, and it was probably more appropriate to wear the second dress.

You were laying on your bed, talking about this and that. It’d been a while since it was just the two of you, and it was nice catching up with her.

“So…” she’d started, an impish tone to her voice. You knew immediately what she wanted to talk about and let out a loud groan, but that didn’t deter her. “Wanna tell me about Jay?”

It was obvious what she was trying to get at, but you weren’t going to give her what she wanted. “Well, he’s rich and has a huge house. Not surprising. He drives well. He’s not half as annoying when he’s in front of his parents. Probably not trying to be as much of a smartass. He seems to think he’s all that. He-”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” she said, laughing. “What I mean is, has anything changed between you two? Have you finally come to your senses about the boy?”

You thought about it for a second. Something had definitely shifted in your perception of Jay. You felt it in the pit of your stomach every time he smiled at you. But it was scary: this wasn’t you and Jay. You and Jay argued, and riled each other up, and got on each other’s nerves. You didn’t crack jokes so you’d hear the other laugh, or agree without thinking when they asked you for a favor. It was confusing, so instead of voicing out those concerns, you lied. “No. Not really.”

But your friend wasn’t buying it. “C’mon. The guy buys you dresses, gets your mom flowers, drives you to his parents’ for dinner. I know it’s not for realsies, and you’ve got integrity or whatever, but you can’t completely be indifferent to it, Y/N. Even you’ve got to admit Jay’s hot.”

You laughed at your friend’s reasoning. “Fine. Maybe he’s not just someone to beat anymore. I guess that’s what fake dating will do to you. But that doesn’t mean I have to say he’s hot.”

She turned to fully face you. “Not even when he’s all dressed up? Or when he hands you a bag that has contents worth thousands?”

Her eyes were telling you that you had to agree with her. You tried to suppress a smile, still not wanting to admit anything. Just because you and Jay had been rivals since you’d met didn’t mean you went blind every time you saw him. Of course, you knew how attractive he was. But you had conditioned yourself to never see him that way, so letting on that you didn’t think he was completely repulsive felt like betraying yourself.

Sieun laughed at your reaction. “C’mon! Say it!”

You pursed your lips together, suppressing a smile, and shook your head. The tilt to Sieun’s head and the devilish glint in her eyes told you your friend was up to no good - and indeed, a second later, she was on you, tickling your sides and asking you to “say it! Say it!”

“Fine, fine!” you said between breathless giggles. She finally relented. “I think Jay’s hot.”

“Do you, now?”

The sudden male voice made you and Sieun shriek. You sat up in your bed and found its owner - sure enough, Jay was standing in your doorway, leaning against the wall and clearly liking what he’d just heard. Your mother soon appeared behind him, explaining that he’d knocked and she let him in, telling him to go up to your room. She mouthed sorry and quickly scurried down the hall.

“I’m not sure why it took you so long, but I’m glad you’ve finally opened your eyes, Y/N.”

Sieun’s eyes were going back and forth between the two of you, until she stood up and said, “Well, I guess that’s my cue to go. Have fun you two, and tell me all about it on Monday, Y/N!”

Before you could protest, she had already left your room, sending Jay a wink as she passed by him. It was silent for a few seconds as you sat there in embarrassment, cursing the Gods for your awful timing. He walked in and sat down at the edge of your bed, comfortable and keeping his distance at once. The sentence there’s something perfect about him flashed in your mind but you were quick to brush it away. “So, which dress did you choose?”

“The one with the puffy sleeves,” you replied, unable to look him in the eye.

He tutted, shaking his head disapprovingly. “Wrong choice.” You rolled your eyes. “Show me?”

This made you look at him. His smile was taunting, but his eyes were soft. With the way he looked right now, you thought he could ask you anything and you’d say yes. You hadn’t imagined that him sitting on your bed would make you stammer like a schoolgirl in front of her teacher crush, but here you were, almost rendered speechless by the mere sight of him. The fact that he was manspreading and leaning back on his hands, the top buttons of his shirt undone and his trousers stretching against his thighs, wasn’t particularly helping. More shyly than you intended, you told him to turn around and close his eyes, then quickly put the dress on. You were thankful for its lack of zipper - you don’t know if you could have handled Jay zipping your dress up for you.

“Okay. You can turn around now.”

This was already the third time Jay was seeing you all dressed up, but his gaze managed to make the heat rise to your cheeks every time. The corners of his lips rose slightly. “Wrong choice,” he repeated, “but you still look really good, Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop the smile spreading on your face as you coyly replied, tugging at the hem of your dress, “Why thank you, Jay.”

“You gonna be ready to go soon?” he asked, checking the time on his phone.

“Yeah, just need to put on jewelry and shoes, and I’m good. Sieun did my makeup for me earlier.” You put on the thin silver earrings and ring Jay had gotten for you and checked your reflection in the mirror. You put a hand to your collarbone, thinking the area looked a bit empty without a necklace.

“Should I wear the necklace from last time? It looks a bit weird without anything right now,” you asked Jay, keeping your gaze on the mirror.

“Um, I’ve got something, actually. I forgot to give it to you with the rest of the things.” He fished a small box out of his bag and got up to stand behind you. He took out the necklace and put it around your neck, asking you to hold your hair up. You complied, looking at his reflection in the mirror. His hands slightly brushed the back of your neck as he locked the necklace, and you had to keep yourself from visibly shivering at his touch. This was infinitely worse (or better) than him zipping up your dress.

He absent-mindedly let his hands slide along your shoulders until they came to a halt on the sides of your arms. His eyes met yours in the mirror, and with a smile, he said, “All done.”

—

Nothing, not even the fundraiser of the previous week, could’ve prepared you for how lavish this party was. Whereas the fundraiser has been in an 18th century ballroom, in the old part of your city where most of the architecture was traditional, this event was taking place in the newer, richer part of the city where skyscrapers constituted most of the area. You were at the top of one of those skyscrapers, and from the huge windows that made up two of the four walls of the spacious room, you could see the whole city laid out right in front of you, as if it was yours to take. If having money meant seeing this everyday, you thought you could understand why rich people got addicted to it.

As Jay and his dad had warned, the atmosphere that evening was very different from that of the fundraiser. Instead of gathering for a cause, this just felt like an excuse to get drunk and eat tiny, tiny appetizers that probably cost a hundred dollars each, all while looking rich and fashionable. The room was quite dark, only the moon outside and the small LED lamps on every table bringing light in. You’d never seen such an impressive collection of alcohol (to be fair, you’d only ever been to frat parties where most of the alcohol was cheap beer and dodgy brands of vodka), and you were really going to have to restrain yourself from trying out every cocktail the barman offered. Although most of the people there were in their forties to sixties, and the younger people were only there thanks to their parents, the dress code wasn’t as formal as you’d have imagined it to be, and Jay’s assessment of your dress as the “wrong choice” now made more sense. The women wore dresses that showed quite some skin, or didn’t leave much to the imagination, and the men had left their suit blazer behind and hadn’t buttoned their shirt all the way up.

It was all a bit mind-boggling at first, but you soon got used to it, and Jay’s warm hand on your lower back reassured you. At first, the two of you walked around together, talking to different people, and hoping you were making your “relationship” clear to them. You were glad Heeseung or anyone that would’ve recognized you wasn’t there: you could handle pretending to be Jay’s girlfriend in front of his parents and other random people, but in front of the whole school, that would’ve been a whole other level of fake dating.

Watching people slowly slip into a drunk state as the hours passed was just about the only source of entertainment you got that night. The two cocktails you’d tried out were way too strong to your liking, so you didn’t feel like drinking anymore, and Jay couldn’t because he was driving you home later on. When most guests were beyond the point of being able to hold a coherent conversation, you and Jay took it as your cue to leave. You found his parents among the crowd to tell them goodbye, and you could tell they weren’t completely sober by the way they kept telling you you were amazing and made you promise three times you’d attend more of these events. Guess you couldn’t back out now.

And indeed, as weeks passed, it became a normal thing for you to accompany Jay every time he had an event to attend. Your wardrobe was going to burst from all the outfits he kept buying you, but you weren’t going to complain. Jake and Sunghoon, as sons of CEOs of smaller but still important companies, were sometimes present. They usually ditched these types of events, and you couldn’t blame them, but they still made the effort from time to time. You were already friends with Jake before; the two of you had lived in the same dorm building and kept finding each other in the study room late at night, then started to bond over insolvable questions and watered-down instant coffee. Sunghoon, on the other hand, you hadn’t had many chances to talk to, and you couldn’t lie, judging by his appearance alone, you had first thought he was even more self-centered than Jay. But after talking to him for just a minute, you found that that cold facade quickly broke down and he was easy to talk to and very funny - in his own way, but funny nonetheless.

Heeseung wasn’t always at these events, but whenever he was, you couldn’t miss him. He always garnered attention, especially from the female guests, but he always kept his eyes trained on you. In all your three years of liking him, he’d barely spoken a word to you, so why the sudden interest? Usually, you’d have craved his attention; but for some reason, at those parties, you felt indifferent towards it. You hated how he was always with a different girl and never approached you, yet wasn’t trying to keep his glances towards you discreet at all. Jay noticed it too, and a couple times you’d even had to stop him from going up to Heeseung and asking him what the hell he wanted.

Since you didn’t have money to bedazzle people with, you always tried to make a good impression with your conversation and intellect, but some nights you just weren’t up to it and spent most of the time laughing with Jake and Sunghoon, as Jay was often too busy talking to someone else. Tonight was one of those nights; half an hour into the party, an important businessman approached Jay and started talking to him, completely ignoring you. He always ended up apologizing later on, but you didn’t reproach him for it - you knew he had a reputation to uphold and that these events were important for him. Plus, it wasn’t like he owed you anything - you weren’t his girlfriend after all, even if the line between real and fake had started to blur more and more often as of late.

Feeling out of place, you looked around the room and found Jake and Sunghoon at the bar, six shots lined up in front of them. You had never gotten drunk at any of these events, not wanting to risk embarrassing Jay or his parents, but tonight seemed like it was gonna be the most boring one as of yet. So you gestured to Jay that you were leaving and joined the two boys.

“Room for one more?” you asked when you reached them. They turned around and smiled at you; this was clearly not their first drink of the night.

“Of course!” replied Jake excitedly, beaming at you. You could tell he already had a few drinks in his system. Without further ado, you each took a shot glass in your hand, clinked them and brought them to your lips, dipping your heads back. The burning of the alcohol as it glided down your throat was both repulsive and intoxicating, and you were soon reaching for the second one. The boys cheered you on and quickly mirrored you.

Although you’d promised Jay you’d always be on your best behavior, as the evening went on, you never refused a drink that the servers approached you with or the boys offered you. Without Jay to make snide remarks about the snouty guests with, the evening was a lot less fun, so you couldn’t help but down every glass of alcohol that came near you; since Jake and Sunghoon were doing the exact same thing, none of you were realizing exactly how drunk you three were getting. At least, you weren’t going around the room, mumbling drunkenly to everyone; you were staying at a table in the corner, mumbling drunkenly to each other.

Jay was observing you from afar, trying not to worry and stay focus on the conversation (no matter how mind-numbing) he was having; but when he saw you almost fall out of your chair and burst into laughter right away instead of regaining your senses, he thought it was time to come check on you. He couldn’t help but feel guilty for having left you alone for most of the night, and he knew Jake and Sunghoon never stayed sober through these events, but in his defense, he didn’t think any of you would go that far.

He took a seat in the chair next to you, leaning close to you so you could hear him over the music and chatter of the guests. He asked you how you felt, and you gave him a lopsided smile in response. “Me? I feel great. This place is awesome once you’ve had-” you hiccuped, “a few drinks.”

Jay sighed but had an affectionate look on his face. “Right. I think it’s time to get you home.” He saw you open your mouth in what was probably going to be protest, so before you could say anything, he added, “And don’t even argue with me. I’m taking you home, let me just go let my parents know first. You two figure it out on your own,” he told Jake and Sunghoon, who had already started to doze off on their chairs.

He got up and headed towards his parents, and you watched him walk away with a pout on your face. Your vision was blurry from the alcohol and you could barely make out any faces, but you waved in what you hoped was the general direction of his parents.

“She just keeps getting better, doesn’t she? Even when she’s drunk, she doesn’t embarrass herself,” said Mr Park when Jay announced your departure. “I’m glad you have her, son.” Jay was glad for the dimness of the room, which meant his dad wouldn’t notice how hard he was blushing. Even if it was all an act, thanks to his parents, he had gotten closer to you than he thought he ever would.

He bid goodbye to his parents and a few other guests, including Jake’s and Sunghoon’s parents, making them aware of their kids’ state, then went back to get you. The trek to the car wasn’t the easiest as tiredness had started to hit you and your body grew heavier against your will. You fell asleep as soon as your head hit the back of the passenger seat and Jay couldn’t help but think you were the cutest thing in the world. He then realized how far gone he must be to think you still looked precious in your current state.

The car ride was silent, your quiet snores and the soft chatter of the radio the only sounds filling up the space. Jay thought you were dead asleep as you didn’t wake up when he fished your keys out of your bag and carried you bridal style out of the car and to the door, but really, you just didn’t wanna have to walk. When he got to the door, though, you thought it would’ve been unfair to make him struggle that much, so you opened your eyes and quietly told him to let you on the ground. He walked you to your room, tucked you in bed and even got a wet wipe to take your makeup off for you.

As he gently swiped it over your eyes, trying not to hurt you, your drunken state got the best of you and you asked, voice barely over a whisper, “Why are you doing all this?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, and you thought he might not have heard you, until he replied, “Because I want to.” You were too tired to press the matter any further, although you desperately wanted to. You’d have to wait until you were sober - if you’d have the courage to bring the subject up then.

When he was done and got up from your bed, the sudden absence of his presence around you made you panic, so you called out, “Jay?”

“Yeah?” he said, and you hoped you weren’t imagining how expectant he’d sounded.

“Will you stay?”

Your eyes were too heavy to even open, so you couldn’t see his reaction. After a second that felt like an eternity, he answered, “Of course.”

You heard him steal a pillow and lay down on the carpeted floor next to your bed. Maybe it was the remnants of alcohol in your system, or the fact that spending so much time together, especially as his girlfriend - fake girlfriend - had made you see him in a new light, or the fact that you felt like your whole world would collapse if you didn’t have him next to you at that moment, or all three of those things. All you knew was that something beyond your control made you whisper “come here” in the quiet of your room, and, when he got under the covers with you but kept his distance, made you wrap your arms around him and cling onto his shirt as if he would disappear.

You slept like a baby that night, but Jay barely got a wink of sleep, the sound of his own heart beating uncontrollably keeping him awake.

—

You woke up that Sunday morning with a ringing headache, an upset stomach and a thirst you knew you wouldn’t be able to quench no matter how much water you drank. Your bed was empty, and the only thing that reminded you Jay sleeping overnight wasn’t a fever dream was his scent lingering on your pillow. The pang in your heart at his absence was hard to ignore - you were definitely curious about what it’d be like to wake up in Jay’s arms.

The busy chatter coming from the kitchen forced you out of your bed, although you would’ve rather stayed there all day. As soon as you opened your bedroom door, the smell of pancakes and sizzling bacon attacked your nose, and you hurried downstairs.

The sight of Jay cooking breakfast for you and your mother alone was enough to cure your hangover. You sneakily watched from the staircase as he expertly flipped pancakes and cooked eggs at the same time, all while holding a conversation with your mom. You walked into the kitchen and poured yourself a cup of coffee before taking a seat next to your mom, trying to but failing to suppress a smile. “I didn’t know you were also a housewife, Jongseong,” you said, voice still groggy with sleep.

“I thought it was the least I could do after making you attend such an awful event,” he answered, and you had the suspicion he was only being nice because your mom was there, even though she knew you two weren’t actually dating.

He kept that energy all throughout breakfast, making your mom laugh, and you watched him play his charm on her, glad you didn’t need to participate in the conversation. Any mom would be lucky to have him as a step-son, you caught yourself thinking.

Your mother hugged him when he left, and turned to you with a smile as soon as she’d closed the door. “Y/N, there’s no way in hell you don’t wanna date that boy. Hell, if he wasn’t half my age, I probably would.”

You took a cold water bottle from the fridge and said, “We’re not talking about this,” then headed up the stairs to your room. You ignored her calling after you and laid down in bed. Last night had given you a lot to think about.

—

You never got as drunk as that night again, not wanting to repeat that situation. Your relationship with Jay had already changed so much in so little time, but now, there was a lingering tension that always kept you on edge, and it wasn’t due to the constant arguing. It was due to the way you couldn’t get his scent on your sheets out of your head and the way he couldn’t forget how you had held onto him that night. You two had always said whatever was on your mind to each other, especially if it was something that would annoy the other, but now unspoken words constantly lingered between the two of you.

Your friends saw right through you; even though you tried to play it cool, it was painfully obvious that Jay was much more than just competition to you now. You hadn’t told them about the time he’d slept over and made you breakfast, knowing you’d never hear the end of it; but they didn’t need to know about that to see something had changed. It was clear in the way you talked about him, which had gone from irritated to excited, or how you never mentioned Heeseung anymore. One time, you’d even said “dating Jay” instead of “fake-dating,” and Sunoo had immediately picked up on it.

“That-that’s what I meant!” you’d exclaimed defensively, but they’d all looked at you with teasing smiles.

Jay hadn’t been very discreet when he’d given you bags of designer clothes all over campus, like in the cafeteria, in a random hallway, or in a lecture hall, and given his immense popularity (you know, being handsome and rich and all that), a few rumors about you two dating were being spread around. But they hadn’t really blown up, since the both of you always denied them whenever someone asked you if they were true, because you didn’t need to keep the pretense at uni.

The pretense - because that’s all it was, of course. Play pretend. Fake dating, keyword fake. But everything with Jay felt too real - the laughter in his car on the way to and fro the events, the smiles you exchanged from across the room, his hand brushing against yours when you sit next to each other during lectures. It wasn’t enough to have his arm around your waist once or twice a week, and it drove you crazy that you had him in bed right next to you but that you’d let him go. You needed to have him close, and for it to be real.

It was a sunny March afternoon when you realized this. Your week was surprisingly unbusy - along with the preparation for your lectures and tutorials, you only had two small online quizzes to complete, and all your bigger deadlines were so far away that even you didn’t see the point in starting on them already. So, armed with your favorite book and plenty of snacks, you’d decided to head to the park next to campus and spend a relaxing afternoon in the sun. It went as planned for about an hour, when an all too familiar voice called out your name - a voice that used to make you sigh in annoyance and roll your eyes automatically, but that now made your heart skip a beat in nervousness, you realized with some alarm.

“Hey! What are you doing here?” He sat down next to you on your picnic blanket, beaming at you like you were his good old friend he’d just run into. He had a professional-looking camera with him, something you’d never seen him carry around. You were so taken aback by his excitement at seeing you that no words formed in your mind, and you just raised your book and waved it stupidly.

Jay chuckled when he saw what you were reading. “Twilight, of course. And that’s the last one, isn’t it?” He shook his head in mock-disappointment at you. “I can’t believe you would put yourself through the torture of reading four of those books, Y/N.”

You just mumbled something about them being fun to read, turning your gaze back to the cover of the book you were holding. What the hell was wrong with you?! Usually, you’d be quick to shoot an answer back at Jay, either defending yourself or attacking him on one of his own weird preferences (you’ll never forget the day they had corn at the cafeteria and Jay had scarfed down at least five cobs in one sitting). But right now, Jay’s presence next to you turned your insides to liquid and rendered you unable to think properly. You hated it.

But then you noticed something on the book cover - “Jay, how do you know this is the last one?” From the corner of your eye, you saw Jay’s head snap up while you turned the book in your hands. “There’s no number on it.”

“O-oh,” he started, and judging from the growing blush on his face, you knew you’d caught him. This brought some of your usual confidence back to you. “Isn’t it common knowledge that Breaking Dawn is the last book in the series?”

You giggled at that. “Absolutely not.” His guilty expression only made you want to press further, and you added, “That’s something you’d only know if you’d watched all the movies and made the effort to remember the separate titles.”

He looked away, letting out a small hum as he found sudden interest in his camera. You were still smiling at him in disbelief. “Jongseong, have you seen all five Twilight movies?”

He furrowed his eyebrows and kept avoiding your gaze. “Pffft. No.”

“Jongseong.”

At the sound of his name, he abruptly turned his head in your direction, and his glare only made you smile even more. “You’ve actually seen all five movies, I can’t believe this,” you said, almost laughing. Jay’s eyes softened slightly, just enough for you to notice. He turned his attention back to his camera, but he was smiling down at it as he spoke this time.

“It’s just that you’ve mentioned them so often, I thought I should check at least the first one out. Turns out they’re pretty addictive,” he admitted sheepishly.

“So you watched them for me?” you asked, and your voice was more admirative than you’d had intended it to be - you wanted to tease him, not let him know that what he’d just said actually touched you.

“I watched them for… research purposes,” he conceded. Your eyes met. Your cheeks were starting to hurt from all the intense smiling this conversation was bringing you, but you couldn’t help it. This time, you were the one to look away.

“Research purposes, of course.” A short silence ensued, the sort of silence you should’ve been used to with Jay by now but that always made you feel giddy - the sort that’s awkward in a lighthearted way, the sort where you’re repeating all the words that have just been said in your head and committing them to memory. The sort where you hope the other is feeling all the things you’re feeling.

You broke it first. “What about you, what are you doing here?”

Jay raised his head, looking like he’d just remembered he had come here for another purpose than just talking to you. “Right. I have a project for this elective I’m taking, so I need to film some stuff and I thought it’d be nice to do it here,” he explained, shrugging.

“Sounds cool,” you said, and you hoped he knew you actually meant it. He looked at you again, and he seemed surprised. “Tell me more,” you added, and from the way his features lit up, you could tell you had said the right thing. You positioned yourself more comfortably on the blanket as you listened to him.

“Oh, well, our professor’s a bit of a romantic so the project is all about finding beauty in the small things, the happiness around us, love…”

Your gazes locked the moment he said that word, but it only lasted a second. Jay was quick to clear his throat and go back to his explanation, but it took you a few more seconds until you could focus on his words again. When you snapped out of it, he was showing you some films he’d already taken. They were all very short, just three or four seconds long, but a peacefulness emitted from each of them. An encouraging message scribbled into a lecture hall table, a cat laying on a windowsill, enjoying the sun, an old couple walking slowly hand-in-hand, teenage girls celebrating a birthday at an ice cream parlor, the metro passing quickly through the frame as the sunset paints the sky orange in the background. All beautiful moments that make up life, but that you never take the time to fully appreciate.

“This… this is beautiful, Jay,” you breathe, mesmerized by what he’d manage to capture.

“Yeah? Not too cheesy?” he asked, a small smile on his lips.

“Not at all. I think your professor will love this, you completely grasped the subject.”

He let out a shaky breath of relief, his smile getting wider. “Nice,” he said under his breath. Then he suddenly turned his head to look at you, an intensity in his gaze you hadn’t expected. “Would you mind if I took a video of you? Add you to the film?”

“W-what, like here? Right now?”

“Yeah,” Jay said, and when he smiled at you like that, who were you to say no?

“Okay, sure.” You tried to shrug, play it cool, but something about Jay looking at you through his lens and adding a video of you to all those beautiful ones he’d just shown you made your heartbeat speed dangerously.

“Great,” he beamed. “Just read your book. Pretend I’m not here,” he instructed. As if you could be anything less than hyper-aware of his presence, you thought.

Thankfully, the video was shot in just a few minutes as Jay searched for the best angle to take it from. Before you knew it, he was already back next to you, mirroring your position on the blanket as he laid on his stomach. You tried to ignore how his shoulder brushed against yours as he leaned on his forearms, showing you the video. You had to admit, it looked really nice - from this angle, the sun shone down on you perfectly, and you could see the wind blowing through the tree leaves in the background. It fit perfectly with the other videos.

“Beautiful,” Jay whispered, looking at the film with nothing but fondness in his eyes.

You didn’t linger on his words too long, just took the chance to tease him: “Are you complimenting me or your videography skills?”

The look in his eyes didn’t change as he turned his head and gazed down at you. “You, of course.”

A smirk tugged the corners of his lips up as he took in your flustered expression, your incoherent mumbles. “Whatever,” you mumbled when you regained the ability to speak.

Another comfortable silence settled between the two of you as Jay busied himself with his camera while you read the same paragraph over and over, unable to concentrate on the words. You desperately wanted to say something, but had no idea what, so you were grateful when Jay broke the silence.

“Just need to edit this all together on my laptop, and then I’m all done. Thanks for your help, Y/N.”

“I didn’t do anything, though,” you said with a small smile. His compliment from earlier was still ringing in your ears.

“But you did. I think that shot of you will end the film perfectly.”

Sure, Jay had gotten nicer and nicer to you as time passed - but today, he was really laying it on thick. He was making it hard to breathe properly. All you could do to save yourself was change the subject.

“So, this is for the Visual Studies part of your degree, right?”

For the second time today, Jay’s expression went from surprise to delight - you remembered, he thought. “It is, yeah,” he replied, with a wide grin he couldn’t control. He seemed to hesitate for a bit, as if deliberating whether he should say whatever it was he wanted to say or not. You were happy to see he opted for telling you. “If it was up to me, it’s the only thing I’d have done.”

You studied him for a bit. With just this simple sentence, you realized Jay’s life wasn’t as simple as you’d always imagined it to be. “But it’s not up to you, I’m guessing.”

He smiled sadly, and you had to resist the urge to take him in your arms. All these things you had been feeling for him, they weren’t supposed to be there, and you were getting really tired of fighting them back.

“It isn’t, no.” He turned over to lay on his back, and you imitated him, so that you were now both staring up at the sky. He sighed before speaking again. “My father isn’t a particularly conservative man, but he does like tradition. He wants to keep the company in the family, and as his only child, I’m the one the responsibility falls upon. He’s never even asked me if this was what I wanted to do, just assumed I’d be happy with it.”

In your three years of knowing Jay, you’d thought how unfair it was that he wouldn’t have to go through the hoops of job applications and job interviews. He already had a top position waiting for him as soon as he got out of college. But now you realized that he was completely trapped in the position - all of the decisions you’d taken academics- and career-wise had been your own, while Jay’s had been chosen for him in advance.

“I picked up photography as a hobby to get away from it all and ended up really falling in love with it. I have control over my camera even if I have zero control over anything else in my life,” he explained with a defeated chuckle.

You let your head fall to the side and looked at him. “I had no idea about any of this.”

Jay met your eyes and smiled. The sun was right behind you, so he had to shield his eyes from it to look at you. “Of course not. I never mentioned it.”

“I feel like I should’ve known, for some reason.”

His smile got wider. You looked away. “Why?”

“Just ‘cause. Maybe I would’ve gone easier on you if I knew you were also struggling.”

“I wouldn’t have let you.” He bumped your shoulder with his, making you let out a chuckle.

A beat passed before you spoke again. “Guess we both have a lot of pressure on our shoulders, huh? Even if they’re different kinds.”

“Guess we do.”

“Then we’re more similar than I’d thought,” you said, and looked at him again.

“Guess we are.”

A smile bloomed on your lips, and Jay’s eyes drifted down to it. That simple action made you panic, and you suddenly sat up. He didn’t have time to ask if everything’s alright, you were already throwing your stuff back in your bag and mumbling something about the time and having to go. You stood, and turned to Jay before scurrying off. “I’ll see you around.”

Jay chuckled, slightly confused, but let you go. It wasn’t until he left himself that he’d realized you’d left without your picnic blanket.

—

After that afternoon, you tried to pretend nothing happened, and that you hadn’t run away just because of Jay glancing down at your lips. You were already getting worked up over things you shouldn’t even be thinking about when it came to him - you didn’t need to have Jay kissing you on your mind.

Thankfully, Jay didn’t bother you about it, and you got back into your routine of arguing by class and pretending to be a couple by night. Everything was fine.

That is, until Mr Park happened.

You had waited all week, hell, all month for this: Jay’s dad was about to give a special talk for the School of Business on how to get a company started and efficiently run it, but most importantly, he would announce how to apply for a summer internship at his firm. You’d made sure to get there early so you could get a good seat. He noticed you when you walked in the amphitheater, and motioned to you to come see him.

“Y/N! Lovely to see you, thanks for coming,” he greeted, beaming down at you. It always surprised you just how similar his smile was to his son’s.

“Of course, Mr Park! I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

“Come and see me after the talk, yeah? There’s something I want to tell you.”

God, what was it with Park father and son to announce things like that? Why not just say it straight away? You kept those thoughts to yourself and nodded, then sat down at a seat in the front.

You listened intently the whole time and took down rigorous notes. When it was over, you had to wait another twenty minutes as people asked him questions, until he finally announced that was all he had time for today. You headed down towards the stage, and complimented him on his talk. Most people in the room had started trickling out, but there were still a few students waiting at the doors, hoping to catch him before he left.

“Oh, thank you, thank you,” he said with a chuckle, before taking a deep breath. “I realize now what I said earlier might have made you nervous, but don’t worry, you’re not in trouble.”

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Good. “I just wanted to thank you for being such a good girlfriend to Jay. I’ve always been proud of him, but I know he has a lot on his shoulders, so it’s nice to see that he has someone like you to rely on.”

You smiled at Mr Park, saying it was nothing, but you felt guilty. He truly believed in you and Jay, when the two of you were only pretending. Even though it didn’t always feel that way anymore.

“Oh, and for the internship, I’m sure you’ll understand that it wouldn’t look too good if I gave it to you. But don’t worry, I’ll put in a good word for you wherever you decide to apply.”

A second passed. Then another, and another, until your lack of answer was becoming weird, and you had to say something. “Oh. Right. Of course, I understand,” you replied, hoping the disappointment in your voice wasn’t too obvious. You exchanged a few more words until you said you needed to get back to studying.

As you turned around to exit the room, you noticed everybody who had been waiting for Mr Park was staring right at you, wide-eyed. You tried to ignore them and get to the doors, but a girl stopped you. “So the rumors are true, you really are dating Jay?”

You’d never seen her in your life and were a bit shocked that a stranger could demand information about your love life, but you nonetheless shook your head and started to say, “What? No.”

“Why are you lying? We just heard everything,” said another voice.

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter anyway, just don’t lie.”

You turned your gaze away from the students to look behind you at Mr Park. Or more precisely, at the lecturer mic wrapped around his waist. From where you were, you could make out a tiny red light on the mic, signaling it was still on.

Crap.

—

As soon as you were outside, you called Jay. He picked up after a few rings, groaning, “What? I’m at the library.” Ah, there was the Jay you knew.

“I’ll be here in two, come outside.”

“But-”

“Right now,” you said sharply and hung up.

Jay had wanted to scold you for disturbing him like that, but as soon as he saw you, eyebrows furrowed and biting your lip nervously, worry overcame him. “Hey. You okay?” he asked gently, placing his hands on your forearms.

“Yeah. I’m fine, but, um, everybody knows. »

He looked at you questioningly, and when you wouldn’t explain further, he asked, “Knows what?”

“You. Me. That we’re dating. Well, they think we’re dating.”

“What? How do they know?”

“Your dad. We talked after his presentation, and he thanked me for being a good girlfriend, except his mic was on. So everybody heard. And you know how gossip travels here, so everybody’ll know by tonight,” you said, sighing in exasperation.

Jay thought for a while. “Well, who cares if they know? We don’t have to change the way we act with each other. That’d be more suspicious, if anything. We’ll just have to not deny it when people ask if we’re dating.”

Your frustration got the best of you and you scoffed, giving Jay a harsher look than you wanted to. His hands left your forearms. “How far is this gonna go, Jay?! How much longer do we have to-” You realized how loud your voice was, and switched to whisper-shouting instead of just shouting. “To pretend? I can let you parade me around those CEOs and whatnot, but I don’t wanna have to keep the charade up on campus, too.”

Jay’s law locked. He looked like you’d just punched him. But he didn’t say anything, so you dropped it. “Anyway, that’s not even the bad part. Your dad told me I wouldn’t get the internship. And it’s fine, I guess I can get one somewhere else. But I wasn’t expecting it, and I was really looking forward to working at your dad’s firm.”

Again, he was silent for a small while, until he muttered, “Right.”

You looked up at him, and he was avoiding your gaze. Why wasn’t he surprised, or angry? Why wasn’t he reacting?

“Did… did you know?” you asked, unable to keep your voice from shaking.

Nothing.

“Jay. Did you know?” you repeated, tone harsher, more impatient.

“Um. Yeah, I knew,” he mumbled. He still wouldn’t look you in the eye.

You shut your eyes for a few seconds, trying to grasp the situation. “Wh- you knew? And you didn’t say anything?”

“Sorry,” he said, eyes trained on his shoes.

“Sorry? That’s it?” You shook your head in disbelief. You almost wanted to laugh. “How long have you known?”

“Since the beginning, really. My dad’s not the type to do favors, and he wants to keep up that image. So if you’re my girlfriend, he wouldn’t give you the internship.”

You couldn’t say anything. Not getting the internship was one thing. You could get over it. But Jay knowing from the start and keeping it from you, that was what really hurt you. You could feel tears forming in your eyes, but you walked away before Jay could see just how much he’d upset you.

“Y/N!” he called after you. He grabbed your wrist, making you stop in your tracks and turn around. The sight of you, teary eyes and staring at him with fury in your eyes, and knowing he was the reason behind it, made him indescribably angry at himself.

“Whatever it is you have to say, I don’t wanna hear it, Jongseong.” He tightened his grip on your wrist before you could snatch it away from him.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t know you wanted that internship. If I did-”

“If you did? Then what? You wouldn’t have asked me to be your pretend girlfriend? You would’ve let me have a chance at the internship?” You shook your head. “Of course not. So save it.”

You managed to get out of his grip and continued walking away, ignoring him as he called out your name again. When you were a few meters away, you turned around and said, venom only in your voice, “I hope you realize how selfish you are, Jay.”

That’s when his heart broke.

—

Jay had been right when he said people wouldn’t care about the two of you ‘dating.’ However, the people who did care, your friends, were more confused than anything: you had gone from bickering non stop, to denying couple rumors, to not talking to each other. It’d been a week since your argument with Jay, and you still didn’t want to hear him out. You didn’t want to have anything to do with him: you straight-up ignored him every time he tried to get you to talk to him, had blocked his number and shut down your friends and mom whenever they mentioned him.

You missed him; you missed his stupid arguments, and his stupid jokes, and his stupid face, and how it had started to feel like he genuinely cared for you. Or at least, that’s what he’d made you think. And he’d made you think it so well, that you thought you might have been starting to genuinely care for him as well. Which only made his betrayal a hundred times worse.

You’d decided to drown your sorrows in textbooks, and spent most of your time at the library. On Thursday, you were searching for the week’s essential reading in the Econ section, and as you took out the book in question, you saw a pair of eyes staring right at you. You tried not to shriek but you felt like your soul had left your body. You’d barely had time to gather your spirits when the culprit had come round to your side of the bookshelf, and of course, it was none other than Lee Heeseung. God, you thought, could that boy get any weirder?

“Trouble in paradise, or so I’ve heard?” he asked in lieu of a normal greeting. Whatever happened to hello?

“That’s none of your business, Heeseung,” you replied curtly, opening the book.

He tried not to be taken too aback by your attitude. He was used to stammering and blushing Y/N, not you-better-not-give-me-any-shit Y/N. He wouldn’t say he disliked the change.

“I’m not sure why you thought dating a guy like Jay was a good idea in the first place, anyway. You could do a lot better, you know,” he said, and you couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of it all. When you didn’t answer, he went on. “You know, we’ve missed you at the frat parties. I know you’ve been going to all those boring company events, but don’t you think it’d be more fun to let loose with us? Tomorrow night?”

This made you look up at him. He had that gaze again, the one you’d seen all those times, and you remembered why you’d liked him for so long. Something about his eyes, about the way he was waiting for you to say yes, made you reply, “I’ll think about it.” You returned his smile and headed back to your seat. You did think going to his party would be fun, and you definitely needed some of that right now.

Plus, you had the perfect dress for the occasion.

—

So here you were, standing in front of the frat house’s door, Sieun, Sunoo and Keeho at your sides, in the tight black dress Jay had given you but you hadn’t chosen for that one event. They were all used to this kind of party, but you’d only been a few times, and although they’d all hyped you up for it, you suddenly felt yourself deflate.

“Guys, what if I just embarrass myself like last time? I don’t think I could live with that-”

“Nope! We’re not having this conversation again!” Sieun exclaimed, already pushing you inside. “You look hot as fuck, and tonight you’re gonna have so much fun and forget all about Jay.”

Keeho and Sunoo gave her a stern look. “Sorry,” she quickly apologized, but you barely heard her over the bass of the booming music. It was 11 p.m. and the party was well into motion. People were drunkenly dancing on the designated dance floor, and you tried to not conjure up memories of that last party. There were people everywhere you looked: on the staircase, in the backyard, in the kitchen.

Your friends and you headed first to the mini-bar and shot down some vodka for liquid courage. As you started chatting, trying to see who was there, Heeseung approached you.

“Y/N! You came! And you look really good,” he said, taking in your figure. He pulled you into a hug which you returned warmly. The vodka was already having its effects on you, apparently.

“Can I get you guys a drink?” he asked you and Sieun. Keeho and Sunoo had already disappeared to the dance floor.

“Sure,” you said, smiling up at Heeseung.

Sieun looked between the two of you, and said, “Actually, I’ll join the others. Come dance with us soon, Y/N!” And like that, she was gone, giving you no time to protest. She thought she was being slick, that one.

You and Heeseung chuckled. He got you a red cup and you watched him as he expertly poured different juices and liquors in it. “So, what made you decide to come?” he asked, handing you your drink. You took a sip of it and nodded approvingly.

“I just needed a good party. To let loose, like you said. Plus, who am I to deny an invitation from the great Lee Heeseung?”

Neither of you was sure where all the confidence was coming from. As soon as you’d said that, you looked down at your cup and smiled shyly. Heeseung looked at you curiously, but he couldn’t help but grin as well. You chatted a bit more, drinking one, two, three cups of the heavenly concoction Heeseung made for you.

“Wanna dance?” he suddenly offered, extending his hand. Right at that moment, you saw Jay enter the house with Jake and Sunghoon. You saw him look around the room until his eyes zeroed in on you and the boy in front of you. Perfect, you thought. You smiled at Heeseung and took his hand, letting him lead you to the dance floor.

Somebody had dimmed down the lights and Lost in the Fire by The Weeknd was playing loudly, creating a sensual atmosphere in the whole room. Your body started swaying to the music, and you were thankful for the alcohol in your system, ridding your mind of any negative or self-conscious thought; you were just enjoying yourself, exactly like you’d wanted to do tonight.

You were getting lost in the music, when a pair of hands on the sides of your waist brought you back to reality. Heeseung got so close to you, you could feel his lips on your ear as they moved to whisper, “Having fun, princess?”

You nodded fervently, leaning your head back on his shoulder, closing whatever gap there was between your two bodies. His hands traveled from your waist to your hips and you could feel his broad chest against your back as you two moved to the rhythm of the music. From where you were, you had a view of the living room. Jay was sitting there, a girl sitting so close she might as well have been on his lap, but he was staring right at you. You knew never hooked up with random girls at parties, so he had to be doing this to get a reaction out of you. You hated that it worked, that it only made the fire in you burn harder - so as a response, you started grinding your ass against Heeseung.

When the girl actually sat on Jay’s lap, you couldn’t look anymore, so you turned around and put your arms around Heeseung’s neck and faced him. His eyes had glossed over and he was looking at you with a hunger you’d never seen before. Well, that wasn’t true - you’d seen him look at other girls that way, and you always knew what happened after that, but you chased the thought out of your mind, forgetting all about that promise you’d made to yourself of never becoming another one of his drunk fucks. Now that his attention was on you and you only, you felt yourself wanting more. His hands traveled further down your body as he grabbed at your ass, bringing your hips closer to his. He bent down to press wet kisses up your neck until he reached your ear.

“Wanna take this upstairs?” he asked. It sent shivers down your spine, but you couldn’t tell whether they were good shivers or not. You willed away your hesitation, smiling at him as he took your hand once again, this time leading you to what you assumed was his bedroom. As you walked up the stairs, you scanned the room and sure enough, found Jay sitting on a couch, staring right at you. You thought the beer can in his hand might explode, he was holding it so tight. Feeling you slow down, Heeseung tugged at your hand, and you detached your gaze from Jay’s, trying to drown out the feeling of guilt that was creeping up inside you.

As soon as he’d closed the door behind you, Heeseung wasted no time in pressing you up against the wall and kissing you hungrily. You hadn’t been kissed many times before, and surely not with such energy, but you were sure it was supposed to feel better. Heeseung was in no measure a bad kisser, he seemed to have the technique down to a T and kept a perfect rhythm. But you felt no fireworks, no butterflies, no light-headedness you’d always hoped would come with a good kiss. There was just no passion to it.

After a few minutes of making out, when you were starting to hope he’d get on with it, he said, breath irregular, “What would Jay say if he saw this, huh? Probably hates the idea of me kissing his precious girlfriend, don’t you think?”

The mention of Jay hit you like a ton of bricks. “Wh-what?” you stammered, not letting Heeseung kiss you when he leaned in again.

“Jay? Your boyfriend?” he repeated, looking at you bemusedly.

You chuckled once. Then twice. Then you just started laughing. “Oh, Jay? We’re not actually dating,” you revealed, your filter completely gone because of all the alcohol.

“What?” Heeseung took a sudden step back from you. His confused gaze had turned cold.

“We’re not dating, I said. It’s all fake, it was to make his parents happy,” you explained, yourself confused by Heeseung’s sudden attitude change.

It was his turn to laugh. “Wow. That’s impressive. You managed to fool me.” His smile dropped. “Now get the fuck out.”

“Excuse me?” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. Who the hell did this guy think he was?

“You heard me. Get the fuck out. There’s no point in fucking you if you’re not Jay’s girlfriend. You’re just a random loser.”

You stared at him for a few seconds, until you started laughing. It only seemed to make him angry. “What the fuck are you laughing about? I told you to get out.”

You sighed amusedly as if Heeseung was just joking around. “I just think it’s funny that you won’t fuck me because I’m not actually Jay’s girlfriend, when that’s not stopped you from getting with a different girl every single weekend. Whore,” you said, adding that last part in a whisper. You didn’t actually care that Heeseung slept around, not anymore, at least, but you wanted to get a reaction from him after the way he’d treated you.

But perhaps you went too far, because Heeseung’s eyes turned even angrier, and he pushed one of your shoulders harshly, making you almost hit the wall. “I’ll tell you one last time. Get out, you pathetic little bitch.”

Just at that moment, the door burst open, revealing a very angry Jay.

“What the fuck did you just call her?” he growled, heading straight for Heeseung and grabbing him by the collar. The other boy didn’t seem fazed, a smile back on his face, as if this whole situation was funny.

“Aw, Jongseong is mad I’m not being nice to his little fake girlfriend?” You guessed Jay must’ve looked confused, because Heeseung continued, “Yeah, she told me. To be fair, I should’ve known even you wouldn’t date a fucking beggar like her.”

You weren’t quick enough to stop Jay from bringing his fist up to Heeseung’s nose. You swore you heard something crack. But as soon as you saw him get ready for another punch, you ran to him and held his arm, shouting, “He’s not worth it, Jay!” and God, you almost wanted him to punch you because of how cliché that had sounded, but you truly thought Heeseung wasn’t worth losing any energy over.

Your voice seemed to make Jay snap out of his fury, and he looked at you, worry written all over his face. However, that only lasted a second, as his expression then shifted to something you’d never seen on his face before, and he grabbed your wrist, leading you out of the room. The commotion had gathered some attention, and you left the house under a bunch of people’s curious looks and chatter.

What was it with men grabbing you and leading you wherever tonight? You were tired of it, so as soon as you’d reached the front yard, you got your wrist out of his grasp, and demanded to know where he thought he was taking you. He grabbed your wrist again, and said, “To my place. We need to talk.”

The tone in his voice told you it was better not to test him, so you got in his car. Jay was always a safe driver, but this time, he sped through the whole city, even burning some red lights, reaching his apartment on the other side of town in a matter of minutes. You quickly texted your friends your whereabouts so they wouldn’t have to worry. The whole car ride had been silent but you could feel him fuming next to you, and you had no idea what to expect when you entered his apartment.

His place was exactly like you’d imagined it: modern, spacious, and way more organized that any other university student’s flat would be, but also had a lot of personal touches. It was very Jay, and if it hadn’t been for the tension between the two of you, you’d have immediately felt at ease there.

Jay walked through the dark apartment to the kitchen, where he turned on a single light. You followed him, unsure what else to do. He leaned against his hands on the island counter, head hung low, and you went to stand on the other side of the counter, waiting for his next move. When his head snapped up and he peered straight at you, you could barely decipher the look in his eyes, but thought it contained a mixture of jealousy, anger, and… hunger. He’d never looked at you that way before, and his gaze itself created a ball in the pit of your stomach. You told yourself it really wasn’t the moment, but you couldn’t help but feel desperately attracted to him.

“What the fuck were you doing with Heeseung?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

You scoffed. “What the fuck were you doing with that random girl?”

“I wanted to make you jealous.” He hadn’t hesitated a second before answering, and his confidence destabilized you. You’d guessed that had been his plan, but hearing him say it made you feel weirdly shy. “Now answer me. What the fuck were you doing with Heeseung?”

You couldn’t hold eye contact anymore, so you looked down at the counter, and replied, “I um, I was drunk, and I… I wanted to make you jealous too, I guess.” You looked back up at him, wanting to gauge his reaction. He was now wearing a smug look, like he’d won something over you. He slowly walked over to your side of the counter, and when he reached you, he put his hands on the counter on each side of you, making you lean back against it. You gulped at the way he towered over you

“And why did you want to make me jealous?” He was so close to you now that when he uttered those words, voice barely over a whisper, you felt his breath fan over your face. As much as you tried to keep eye contact, your gaze fell down to his lips, and you saw him smirk. He caught your chin between his index finger and thumb, nudging your head up. “Eyes up here, doll.”

Your eyes met his again. He was looking at you so intently, you thought your knees might buckle under you. He cocked an eyebrow, patiently waiting for your reply. “Because I…”

It was so obvious, but you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to say it, or even let yourself think it, before. But it needed to be put out there, once and for all. There was no point in fighting it anymore. “Because I like you, Jongseong.”

To your surprise, his smirk turned into a cheeky grin. It made some of the tension dissipate, but not enough for you to breathe properly again. “I like you too, Y/N.” You sighed out of relief at his words and mirrored his smile.

“Can I kiss you?” he said, the thumb that had been holding your chin caressing your bottom lip.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you breathed, and he leaned in, your lips meeting delicately. It stayed that way for a few minutes, until the pent-up feelings that had been threatening to come out finally did, and hunger and passion took over the kiss. Jay was kissing you like a man starved, and all you could do was return everything he was giving you. This was nothing like you’d imagined it; it was infinitely better. Talk about fireworks, or butterflies, or light-headedness, you felt like you were on another plane of existence, like a kiss that felt this good and was this freeing wasn’t humanly possible.

Your hands slipped under his shirt and the sudden contact of your cold hands against his warm skin made him shiver. You were glad to see you had as much effect on him as he had on you. Never breaking the kiss, he led you to his bedroom and sat down on his bed, gesturing for you to straddle his lap. Your dress rode up your calves a little bit, and he used this opportunity to pull it further up until it bundled up around your hips, leaving your lower half almost naked. You could feel how hard he was getting underneath your clothed core, and as the kiss grew needier, you started grinding against him, getting the both of you off. When you heard him groan against your lips, something snapped in you, and you wanted to hear that sound over and over, so you doubled down on your actions.

His hands, which had been resting on your ass, came up to the nape of your neck, and he grabbed you by the hair, exposing your neck to him. He started pressing down eager kisses along your jawline, throat, and collarbones. When he found a spot in the crook of your neck you particularly liked, he started attacking it like crazy, sucking at the skin and turning you into a moaning mess. One of his hands came to cup your breast and he was very glad to find you were not wearing a bra. Your nipple had hardened through the fabric, and he started playing with it. That, as well the feeling of him in your neck and against your core, was overwhelming, and you felt like you were about to pass out because of how good it all felt. You didn’t know what to do with your hands so you alternated between running them over his arms and tugging at his hair.

As your lips met again, teeth almost clashing because of the intensity, you started unbuttoning his shirt. When it was off, you couldn’t not stare at him. You’d had an idea already, but you still couldn’t believe how toned his arms, chest and abs were. You thought to yourself, God, he’s so hot, and hadn’t realized you’d actually said it out loud until he jokingly said, “Yeah?”, looking up at you with the biggest smile. His hands ran over your calves, your thighs and your ass, sending shivers along the way, and he said, “You’re not too bad yourself, doll.” He kissed you with much more gentleness than before. “In fact, you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

You kissed him so he wouldn’t see the blush spreading on your face. He put his hand on your lower back, and guided you down on the bed until you were laying on your back, him hovering over you. He pulled your dress all the way up, helping you get rid of it. You were now left in only panties in front of him, and you would’ve imagined that to be intimidating, but his gaze was truly making you feel like a goddess. Nonetheless, you didn’t want to be the only one naked, so you tucked your fingers under his trousers’ waistband, gesturing for him to take them off. He chuckled but immediately obliged, getting rid of them in a matter of seconds. You had an even better view of his now fully-hard cock, and its size made you gulp. Your mind was quickly off of that, though, as he started trailing kisses all the way down to your breasts, taking one of your nipples in his mouth as his hand came up to the other. Your back arched at the sensation, and you only wanted more, more, more. Your fingers tugged at his hair and you breathed out his name between moans.

After a few minutes, he traveled further down your body, until he was face to face with your dripping core. He hooked his fingers under your panties, looking up at you and asking you if this was okay. You nodded impatiently and he chuckled at your reaction. How could you be so cute even in this moment? He took your panties off excruciatingly slowly. You wanted to take your time, but you also wanted him where you needed him the most.

You did feel a bit shy when he stared at your sex with the utmost wonder, musing to himself, “So pretty.” He slid a finger between your folds, making you moan in relief and pleasure, and added, “So wet, too.”

You had lifted your body onto your forearms so you could take a good look at him. He peered up at you and, with a small smile, asked gently, “Tell me if it feels good, okay?”

“Okay,” you replied, nodding fervently.

Without wasting another second, he licked a stripe up your core, making you moan again, louder this time. He took that as confirmation to go on and continued exploring your pussy with his tongue. You practically screamed out in pleasure when he found your clit, and by the time he started sucking on it, your thighs were shaking like crazy. You didn’t have any strength left in your body and your forearms gave out under you, so you just lied down on your back, fingers still tangled in and pulling his hair. You hadn’t been able to actually tell him it felt good, but you were sure he understood that much.

One of his fingers, and then a second, entered you, filling you up. “Shit, doll, you’re so tight. How are you gonna handle my cock?”

He curled his fingers inside you and they hit a certain spot that made you see stars, and you were coming all over his fingers and tongue in a matter of seconds, screaming out his name and a string of blasphemies. You had to physically lift his head from your core, telling him it was too much, otherwise he would’ve kept going. He gave you a sheepish smile and you couldn’t believe the boy grinning at you was the same one who’d just said and done all those lewd things to you. He pressed a small kiss on your inner thigh, then lay down next to you on the bed, taking in your flushed cheeks and blown-over eyes. He couldn’t believe he got to have you like this, in your most vulnerable state, all to himself.

When you’d calmed down from your high, you managed to say, “That was amazing, Jay.”

He let out a soft chuckle and kissed your forehead, then trapped your lips with his own. You could taste yourself on his tongue, but you didn’t mind. After a few minutes of lazily making out, you threw your leg over his to position yourself over his hips, and started pressing feather-like kisses down his neck. He’d made you feel so good, and you intended to return the favor.

You felt him sigh at your touch, but before you could go too far down, he stopped you by bringing his hands to both sides of your face, making you look up at him.

“Did I do something wrong?” you immediately asked, worry laced in your voice.

“No, no. God, no, you’re perfect.” he replied. “I just… I still feel so guilty for what I did, and I feel like I don’t deserve you right now.”

“Jay…”

He hid his face in the crook of your neck and held your waist tightly. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You’re right, I was being selfish. I should’ve known you wanted that internship, and I knew you wouldn’t get it if my dad thought we were dating, but… I’ve wanted to be with you for such a long time, and when I had the chance to have you, even if it was just pretend, even if it meant lying to you, I couldn’t bring myself to not take that chance. I’m so sorry.”

You had completely forgotten the events of that week, and of that night. Your argument with Jay and Heeseung’s words seemed light-years away. “How long have you liked me?” you couldn’t help but ask. You should’ve been surprised by Jay’s confession, but for some reason, it made sense - what didn’t make sense was how you hadn’t noticed it, or how you’d thought it wasn’t possible that you might like him, too.

“Since we met,” he admitted shyly. “I would’ve told you, but you seemed to enjoy arguing with me so much, I was scared you’d just make fun of me.”

Since you’d met… so, three years? And he’d never said anything? “To be honest, I probably would’ve made fun of you at first,” you agreed light-heartedly. “But I also think it would’ve made me realize what an amazing person you are earlier. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

“That’s okay. I would’ve waited my whole life if it meant I could have you at the end.” Butterflies erupted all over your stomach at his words. You kissed him like you’d stop breathing if you didn’t.

Now that Jay had gotten what he wanted to say off his chest, you’d hoped you could continue your previous actions, and started pressing kisses down his neck, but he soon stopped you again.

“I’m getting the feeling you don’t want me to go down on you,” you said, half-joking.

He grinned and closed his eyes, as if fighting himself back. “I do, I promise you, I do.” When he opened his eyes again, they were full of affection. “But we’ve got so much time for that later. I just want to feel you around me right now. Would that be okay?” he asked, voice soft.

Your core pulsed at the thought of Jay inside you, and you nodded, breath growing erratic again. Jay gently lay you on your back, and took off his black boxers so that the two of you were finally completely naked, revealing his throbbing cock. He was right, how were you going to handle it? He rummaged around in his bedside drawer for a condom, and put it on with nervous hands.

He lined his tip at your entrance, pressing soft kisses all over your face and neck before pushing in as if to get you to relax. He kissed you gently on the lips. “Tell me if it hurts, and I’ll stop right away.”

He waited for you to nod again, and finally entered you. It immediately stretched you out like never before. The sound of you taking a sharp breath in made Jay stop in his tracks. You wrapped your hands around his biceps for support, then, letting out a deep sigh, told him to go on. He pushed in inch by inch until he finally bottomed out. You both let out a hearty moan at the feeling. It was so perfect.

He didn’t move for a few minutes, letting you adjust to his size. You had your eyes closed and were focused on relaxing, until all at once the pain of the stretch turned into pleasure, and you breathed out, “Please, move.” He obeyed and started rocking in and out of you, making you feel each inch of his length inside you. The sensation was intoxicating. You couldn’t stop any of the moans escaping your throat, and Jay took that as a green light to go gradually faster. Your bodies were moving at the exact same pace and you thought the two of you molded together perfectly, as if this was what you had been meant to do your whole life. His fingers were tightly gripping your hips as he thrusted into you harder and harder, making you moan so loud you were practically screaming in pleasure.

“You feel so fucking good, Y/N,” he said, throwing his head back and letting out a deep moan himself. Your hands roamed all over his body, unable to stay in one place at a time. He suddenly changed the angle of his hips and started hitting that spot inside you he had found earlier with his fingers, making your mind go hay-wire.

“Fuck, right there, Jay!” you screamed out, as he brought your hips down to his faster than you thought was humanly possible. Soon, you were coming again, and the feeling of you clenching down around him made him shoot his release into the condom. He fell on top of you, unable to carry his weight on his arms anymore. He only had enough strength to pull out and discard the condom, before nestling his head between your breasts. Tiredness seeped through your bones, and you both fell asleep in seconds, completely naked and arms around each other.

Jay woke up a few hours later, a cramp in his arm because of how you were laying down on it - the two of you had apparently switched positions at some point during the night. He softly pulled his arm away, trying not to wake you up. He checked his phone; it was 4:29 a.m. He looked down at you, admiring how soft you looked when you were sleeping. He still couldn’t believe his luck, it all felt like a dream to him. But then you shifted slightly, letting out a small whimper, probably because of a dream, and Jay knew this was happening for sure. He hugged you tightly, breathing in the scent of your hair, and, knowing you were fast asleep, murmured, “I love you.”

—

The sunlight peeking through the curtains and hitting your face softly was what woke you up the next morning. You were relieved to feel Jay’s arms around your waist as he hugged you from behind. You gently turned around, curious about what he looked like in the morning.

As expected, he was perfect.

You observed him for a while until his eyes fluttered open. “Good morning, handsome,” you whispered, pushing away the hair that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Good morning,” he replied, smiling sleepily. “Creep.”

Quietly, you gasped dramatically and said, “Is a girl a creep for looking at her boyfriend as he sleeps in the morning?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “Boyfriend, huh?” he teased.

You grinned at him. “Yeah.”

“Well,” he said, returning your grin and tightening his grip around your waist, “my girlfriend can look at me all she wants.”

You’d technically been dating Jay for over three months now, but knowing it was finally real and not just pretend made you giddy. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and kissed him there, trying to hide your shy smile.

He took your head and lifted it to place a delicate kiss on your lips, which you returned like it was second nature. When you pulled away, you jokingly said, “Mh. Morning breath,” but Jay’s eyes opened wide and he immediately put his hand over his mouth, asking, “Seriously?”

You laughed at him and pulled his hands down, going back in for a kiss. It soon escalated, and you were reminded of the fact that neither of you had clothes on when you could feel Jay’s hardness pressing against your thigh. He apologized shyly, but you told him it was fine, and that you’d take care of it.

This time, when you two made love, it was much slower and light-hearted than the previous night, as if the two of you had finally realized that you had all the time in the world and could enjoy every single second. It was the perfect thing to wake up to.

You two lazied in bed, alternating between slowly making out and daydreaming together, until his stomach rumbled loudly and you really needed to pee. When you joined him in the kitchen, he was heating up waffles on the stove. You hooked your arms around his waist, pressing your chest to his back, and he hummed softly.

“Jay?” you whispered, lips just millimeters away from his ear.

“Yes, doll?”

“I love you too.”

permanent taglist: @k-ingzo @bbujiikseu @sunghoonmybeloved @lalalalawon @sd211 @w3bqrl (ask to be removed/added!) © asahicore on tumblr, 2023. please do not repost, translate or plagiarize my works. feedback and reblogs are always appreciated!

#enhypen x reader #jay x reader #enhypen smut #jay smut #enhypen fluff #jay fluff #enhypen angst #jay angst #enhypen fanfiction #jay fanfiction #enhypen imagines #jay imagines #enhypen scenarios #jay scenarios

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augustinewrites · 8 months ago

Text

based on this

your frowning face appears in the mirror as wriothesley fixes his hair for the third time that afternoon, admiring how the gel he’d borrowed from clorinde was surprisingly adept at slicking back his unruly hair.

“we can’t be late,” you remind him, fiddling with the collar of your dress. “father despises tardiness…”

“awe, are you worried i’ll make a bad first impression?” he asks, finally turning to face you. “don’t worry, sweetheart. parents love me. well, maybe not my foster parents. but i’m always a hit with other people’s.”

the comment about his…colourful past goes right over your head. you really are worried. “it’s not you i’m worried about. father can be…intense.”

“i work in a prison. it can’t get more intense than that,” he reminds you, grabbing the gift bag sitting by the door. “besides, once we pull out this bad boy, he’ll be so impressed that he’ll ask me to join you for lunch next week too.”

of course, he had no actual idea if the wine navia had chosen was any good. though his wallet had come back significantly lighter, so that had to mean it was halfway decent.

“wriothesley,” you say, still looking deeply concerned. “you do know that father is–”

“intense, babe. i know,” he sighs, cupping your face in his hands and placing a kiss between your furrowed brows. you try to wriggle out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, gently keeping your focus on him. “don’t worry, alright? i’ll shake his hand, we’ll talk about safe topics like the weather and how great the aquabus is. i’ll even use my best table manners when the food comes.”

his thumbs gently brush your cheeks as you sigh, shaking your head slightly. “i just really want you two to get along.”

“i can be plenty charming when i need to be,” he says, only letting you go to pull the front door open. “besides, who wouldn’t want a duke as a son-in-law?”

______

business at café lutece is unusually empty today, wriothesley observes. all of the tables are reserved, but remain empty at the height of the lunch rush.

you don’t seem to notice this, fingertips drumming the surface of the table

“quit fidgeting,” wriothesley murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“i’m just nervous,” you mutter, knee beginning to bounce. wriothesley chuckles, stilling it with a firm hand.

you look up at him, smiling as you place your hand over his. “thanks.”

the waiter comes back with the tea he’d ordered earlier, leaving a teapot and two small jars of sugar and milk. he’s in the middle of pouring you a cup when you suddenly sit up.

“father!”

“oh shit,” the duke mutters, quickly getting on his feet. he glances down at his outfit briefly, making sure his buttons are done up properly and his sleeves are rolled neatly before holding out his hand. “it’s nice to finally meet you–”

wriothesley’s open stance shifts into a protective one, immediately putting himself between you and the knave.

“well, isn’t this sweet,” the harbinger says, clearly more amused than threatened.

wriothesley looks back at you, incredulous. “your father is a fatui harbinger?!”

“all children of the house of the hearth refer to me as such,” she answers, gracefully pulling out and taking a seat across from him. “sit, your grace, and prove to me why you should continue to be allowed to court my child.”

_____

sitting face to face with the knave was equal parts exhilarating and nerve-inducing. exhilarating because she was the knave. skilled in combat and espionage and one of the highest ranking harbingers.

nerve-inducing because she was your father. and as much as he wanted to engage her in a battle of wits and fisticuffs, that was not something one did with their father-in-law.

“i trust business at the fortress is going smoothly, your grace?”

wriothesley casts the harbinger a wary look over his teacup. “you can read about childe’s status in the report i had sent over last week.”

“well, you know better than most that information from inside sources is much more valuable.”

both their gazes drift to you, and you send him an apologetic look.

“oh, relax,” the woman across from him laughs. “i was simply making conversation. since i’m short of time, however, i will make the point of our visit quite brief.”

she leans forward, clasping your hand in hers across the tabletop as she fixes wriothesley with a paragliding glare.

“if you ever hurt my child, or she comes to any harm whilst in your care, there is not a corner of the ocean dark enough for you to hide.”

“father!” you gasp. “you said you wouldn't threaten him.”

it’s almost eerie, how easily the dark expression slips off her visage. “that wasn’t a threat. c'était une promesse.”

#wriothesley x reader #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #wriothesley fluff #genshin x you #fem!reader

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shadowtriovibes · 1 year ago

Text

the train ain't even left the station

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Rating: G

Word Count: 2K

Summary: request: "If you're up for it I'd love to see a small lil fic of Sebastian sending his child off to Hogwarts for the very first time! Like maybe Sebastian is telling them about his adventures with Ominis and MC to make the child less nervous or just letting them know how exciting things will be for them :)"

in the same 'verse as "it's a sign of the times" [AO3]

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.” “Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly. A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’” “No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

September 1, 1910

Suspended overhead in the bustling terminal of King’s Cross Station is a massive clock. Every morning, hundreds of thousands of Londoners – both Muggles and wizards alike, though more often the former – pass underneath the clock as they hurry to catch their trains. Many will casually glance up to ensure they’re still on time as they make their way to work, school, or even the lucky few off on holiday.

As it happens, the first day of September brings countless students to the station on their way to boarding schools all over the U.K., meaning the station stays especially crowded well into the late morning. Worried mums and impatient dads all turn their eyes toward that clock, hoping their sprogs won’t be left on the platform on their very first day of school.

Just as the minute hand slides into place at the very bottom of the clock, a handsome young family emerges from a tiny waiting room positioned at the far end of the terminal.

Hundreds of Muggle men in their funny, black suits and odd little bowler hats have already walked right past the waiting room without sparing it a second glance. In fact, had any of them paused to do so, they would have read a small sign affixed to the door that simply read, “Out of Order.”

But inside that waiting room is a grand fireplace. Not just any fireplace, mind you – one that roared brilliantly twenty-four hours a day, never needs stoking, and, perhaps most importantly, spews out bright green flames.

Sebastian Sallow first exits the waiting room with a precarious cart loaded up with trunks, birdcages, and even some broomsticks of all things. If the Muggles passing by thought anything of the man’s rather odd collection of travel items, no one said a word.

He glances up at the clock and grins.

“Ten thirty,” he says confidently over his shoulder. “See? I told you we wouldn’t be late.”

Beside him is his young wife. Their smallest child, a boy just a few months shy of his fifth birthday, is dozing in her arms. Behind them are their oldest children, a pair of twins, chatting excitedly as they follow their parents toward the barricade between platforms nine and ten.

“Doesn’t it seem a bit redundant to Floo all the way down to London just to put the children on a train back to Scotland?” Sebastian mumbles as your family weaves its way through the flowing crowds.

“Perhaps, but all the children love riding the train,” you remind him fondly. “It’s a Hogwarts tradition, especially for the little ones.”

Having never had the chance to take the Hogwarts Express yourself, you find yourself mildly envious of your eldest children, both of whom will soon be taking their very first journey on the school’s scarlet red steamer train.

“Besides,” you add teasingly. “If I recall, you and Anne met Ominis on your first train ride to Hogwarts, correct?”

“Fine, I suppose you’ve got me there,” Sebastian relents with a soft smile. “I rather think this whole journey will have been worth it if the twins happen to make lifelong friends who save their lives several times over.”

“Do we have to?” your son Simon pipes up, sounding wary. “Because I packed a book I wanted to read.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow at you and gives you a look that reads, He is your son through and through.

“Trying to prove you’re a Ravenclaw already, are you?” Sebastian teases him. “Just like your mum, you are.”

“I’m going to be a Slytherin like you, Daddy!” your daughter Anne-Marie chimes in proudly. “Even Auntie Anne said so!”

You and Sebastian exchange a fond, albeit exasperated look. Ever since Anne (and eventually Sebastian) had accepted the life-limiting curse placed upon her by Rookwood, she’d instead focused on honing types of magic that don’t drain her of her energy or cause her any more pain. She’d found comfort in Divination and has grown into a very powerful Seer, though she often uses her gift to rile up your children with premonitions of being spoiled rotten on their birthday or soundly beating the other village children in their broomstick races.

However, predicting that your mischievous little girl will end up in Slytherin is a fairly safe bet, you imagine.

“I won’t be the least bit surprised if that’s true,” Sebastian says warmly. “But just know your mother and I will love you all the same no matter which house you end up in.”

“Even Hufflepuff?” Simon asks nervously. “Ernest from the village says Hufflepuffs are boring.”

“Don’t forget your Auntie Poppy is a Hufflepuff,” you tease him. “She’s anything but boring!”

That seems to cheer Simon up a bit, but your sweet, slightly shy boy falls back beside you as you get closer to the platform barricade.

“Alright, my love?” you ask him softly.

He reaches for your free hand and squirms up tightly against your side. “It’s really big…”

You size up the high brick archway before you. To the naked eye, it appears as solid as rock, and despite Sebastian’s reassurances that it’s perfectly safe to run straight at it, you imagine you’d be intimidated as well if you were only eleven years old.

“Don’t worry, darling,” you reassure him. “Your father and I will come with you to the platform, you won’t have to go through alone.”

He nods wordlessly and you squeeze his hand. Ever her father’s girl, Anne-Marie takes Sebastian’s arm and the two of them push the wobbly luggage cart straight at the archway, and in the blink of an eye, they’ve vanished.

“See?” you murmur to Simon. “Not so scary, is it?”

With your youngest still propped against your hip, you and Simon walk toward the barricade at a slower pace. You glance around to make sure no Muggles are watching as you slip through the magical brick facade, and then in the blink of an eye you’re on a pack platform surrounded by wizarding families and children in bright, colorful robes.

“Over here!” Sebastian calls out, and you see that he’s pulled the cart right up to the train.

“Help each other with your trunks, just like that,” Sebastian says as Simon and Anne-Marie first carry the trunk marked with an “S.S.” aboard the carriage and then return for the other marked with an “A.M.S.”

Then they carry in their owls – both young tawny birds raised from hatchlings, a gift from their Aunt Poppy. Finally, they return for their brooms, which Sebastian knows for a fact they ought not to have as first years, but he hopes he can talk Headmaster Weasley into looking the other way once they arrive with the intent of trying out for their house Quidditch teams.

(Raising your children in a wizarding village had been quite an eye-opening experience for you. Your twins have been on broomsticks since they could walk, and over the years their godfather Ominis has insisted on making sure they always have the latest model – one for each, so they won’t squabble over sharing.)

You pull Anne-Marie in for a tight hug once the children finish unloading their cart.

“You’ve got everything you need?” you ask her, pretending your voice hasn’t gone thick with tears. “I’ve packed you both some sweets for the ride, remember to share with your new friends, and write to us as soon as you get back to your dormitories please–”

“Yes, Mum,” she says, somewhat impatiently. “We promise we will.��

Anne-Marie kisses her littlest brother goodbye on his chubby cheek, fondly brushing back some of those messy brown curls your husband had given him.

“Why don’t you let your father give you a hug goodbye, sweetheart?” you gently prompt her.

You expect you’re the only one who’s noticed that Sebastian’s eyes have gotten a bit wet as he’d watched his children load up their belongings on the train. Even though he’d likely try to deny it if you prodded him, he sincerely looks like he could use a hug.

As soon as Anne-Marie approaches him with her arms out, Sebastian scoops her up against his chest like he’d often done when she was much smaller – only now her legs nearly touch the floor, and soon he’ll only be able to sway her like this with her feet firmly planted on the ground.

“Have a great term, sweetheart,” he tells her softly. “I can’t wait to hear all about it – even the parts that’ll exasperate your mother.”

“I promise I’ll be good,” she says ruefully.

Sebastian sets her down and rests a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Not too good, alright? It’s worth breaking a few rules every now and then to make a friend, or do what’s right.”

“Like how you met Uncle Ominis and he showed you the Undercroft?” she says eagerly.

A few feet away, you look up sharply from where you’re hugging Simon goodbye. “Did she just say ‘Undercroft?’”

“No,” Sebastian and Anne-Marie say in unison.

You narrow your eyes suspiciously and decide to leave it be for now, but as soon as you turn away, Sebastian leans down and whispers, “Write to Uncle Ominis and ask him where to find it. It’s a Sallow’s rite of passage.”

“I will,” she says excitedly. “And I’ll bring Simon.”

“Good girl,” he says proudly.

Anne-Marie manages to free Simon from your weepy grasp so that Sebastian can also pull him in for one last hug, reassuring his son he’ll be proud of him no matter which house he eventually calls home. Then the two link arms as they make their way toward the train, climbing up the stairs behind a gaggle of redheaded children (whose surname you could likely guess on the first try).

They settle into a compartment halfway down the carriage. Anne-Marie eagerly presses her face against the glass and makes a silly face at Sebastian, which he delightedly returns. Simon waves goodbye as well and holds up the book he’d packed, showing it off as if to say, “See Mum? We’ll be just fine.”

With your groggy son in your arms and Sebastian’s arm around your shoulders, you watch as the train slowly starts to rumble down the tracks and into the brilliant September sunshine. It’s carrying your children ever closer to your home, and yet further away from you than they’ve ever been.

You hide a few tears against the lapel of Sebastian’s robes; he kindly wipes away the rest with a handkerchief and kisses the redness on your cheeks and nose until you’re smiling once more.

“They’re going to have an incredible year,” he whispers to you. “It’s Hogwarts.”

You simply nod, not trusting yourself to answer without a stray sob slipping out.

Dozens of parents begin to Apparate away from the tracks as soon as the train rounds the corner, but with your youngest, you’ll need to make your way back to the station’s Floo flames to get home safely. This time pushing an empty cart, the three of you slip back through the brick barricade.

“It sure will feel quiet when we get home,” Sebastian says a little sadly.

“We’ve still got the littlest one,” you say softly, cradling your sleeping boy’s cheek as he clings to you through his nap. “He’ll keep us on our toes enough as he gets older.”

“I suppose,” Sebastian sighs, still sounding morose even as he reaches over and gently strokes the back of his fingers down your singleton’s back.

Then he perks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “Or perhaps we could try for a fourth?”

You shoot him a withering glare. “Not on your life, Sebastian Sallow. We’ve just sent the twins off to school, I think that means we should actually get to enjoy some peace and quiet for once.”

(Though when your twins come home for the winter holidays with countless tales of their adventures with new friends and their pockets stuffed full of Zonko’s products, Sebastian gets to be the one to tell them they’ll have a new baby sister the following summer.)

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian x reader #sebastian x mc #anne sallow #ominis gaunt #IT'S AN OFF TO HOGWARTS KIDFIC TADA

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topguncortez · 11 months ago

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Baby's First Christmas

Jake & Shy!Wifey Masterlist | Main Masterlist

synopsis: it's Jake and Y/N's first Christmas as parents, and Jake isn't feeling the Christmas spirit like Y/N is.

word count: 2.8k

warnings: bad grammar, fluff

“Why do I have to dress up?” Jake asked for probably the thousandth time since Y/N pulled out the red santa suit, beard and hat.

“Because it’s Alex’s first Christmas and I want him to take a picture with Santa Clause,” Y/N said, curling her hair in the mirror. It was Christmas Eve and Y/N’s sister had invited the whole family to the house for dinner, drinks and gifts. It was Y/N and Jake's first Christmas as parents and she wanted it to be perfect. Alex was only seven months old so he wouldn’t be able to know if anything went wrong or not, but Y/N would know.

“And your dad or Carson can’t but on the ridiculous-”

“No! It has to be you!” Y/N sighed, putting down the hot iron, “Alex won’t sit on my dads or Kayce’s lap. You saw how he acted when we took her to see Santa at the coffee shop.”

“Well he was a bit-” Jake shut up when you gave him a glare through the reflection of the mirror. He knew better than to start an argument with Y/N. Over the past year, her sass started to shine through, and Jake was proud to watch her become more confident with herself. Jake opened his mouth to say something just as Alex let out a cry, “We’ll discuss later.”

Y/N smiled to herself as she finished getting ready for the Christmas party. When she walked out of the bathroom, to the living room of their small on-base house. It wasn’t anything special, but Y/N managed to decorate it to the nines. Jake wasn’t sure where she managed to find all this Christmas stuff, nor where she managed to store it. But it made her happy, and he’d do anything to make her happy.

Y/N’s heart warmed in her chest seeing Jake holding Alex and looking at the ornaments on the tree. Alex was Jake’s twin through and through with big green eyes and light blonde hair. It had been an amazing journey to see how quickly Jake took on to the role of being a father. It kept him up at night thinking about the type of parent he would be. Would he be like his father? Cold and detached, demanding the best of his children at all times. Would his child grow up to hate him for being gone because of the Navy? Would he be around long enough to see his children grow old and have their own children? For those nine months while Y/N was carrying Alex, Jake read every single parenting book he could get his hands on. He asked some of his commanders and warrant officers for advice. None of it really made sense to him, but when he saw his son for the first time, it all became clear.

“Momma is staring at us again,” Jake whispered to Jake and kissed his cheek. Alex placed both his slobbery hands on Jake’s cheeks, a big gummy smile on his face “You ready? It’s cold out, and I don’t want him to sweat in the car seat and then go outside. That’s how kids get sick.”

“I am ready,” Y/N nodded, “I just gotta get the baby bag, the gift for mom and dad, Carson and Jenny, and the cookies for the kids.”

“All of that is in the car and it’s running,” Jake said.

“What would I do without you?” Y/N asked with a smile on her face. She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips, “Can you put him in the car seat? I’ll grab the Santa suit.”

Jake rolled his eyes as she skipped back down the hall towards the bedroom, “Your mom is crazy,” He whispered to Alex and the little boy turned to face his father, showing him a gummy smile. Rip smiled at his son, kissing his cheek again and then going to put him in the car seat.

The Parker house was decorated from floor to ceiling for Christmas. It was obvious where Y/N got her love and passion for decorating, and it came from her mother. The moment they opened the front door of the house, the scent of fresh baked gingerbread cookies and ham filled the air. Jake had never really cared for big family celebrations but ever since he started coming around the Parker family, he started appreciating them more and more. His family celebrations were always so stiff and about who could brag the most about their latest promotion or accomplishment. The Parkers were all about warmth and happiness about being around one another.

“You can put the Santa suit on after dinner,” Y/N said as they walked through the front door, “While we’re cleaning up and setting up gifts, it will be perfect.”

“Yeah,” Jake said as he set down the carseat.

“Aunt Y/N, you’re here!” Y/N’s nephew, Tate yelled running up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Hey bud,” Y/N kissed the top of his head, “Have you grown again?”

“Probably,” Carson said, and greeted you with a quick kiss on your head, “Wakes up five inches taller than the night before. Where's the little man?”

“Jake’s got him,” Y/N said, nodding her head over to the living room where Jake was taking Alex out of her car seat, and Clara waiting for her chance at baby snuggles, “She acts like she didn’t just see him yesterday.”

“You know how mom is with her grandkids,” Carson chuckled, “She might’ve gone a tad bit overboard with the Christmas gifts.”

“There’s my favorite daughter!” James said as he walked into the entryway.”

“I’m your only daughter,” Y/N rolled her eyes playfully, hugging her dad.

“Foods ready to be served whenever,” James said, clapping his hands together, “Where’s my grandson?”

Y/N was thankful to have her parents nearby and willing to help out with Alex. She knew that being in San Diego could change at a moment's notice, but she was going to soak up the time that she had here. Jake carefully watched as Clara handed his son off to James. Jake trusted the Parkers, but it was his inner father bear that had him watching every moment that Alex was in someone else's arms.

Slowly everyone made their way to the dining room table, which was decorated and covered with delicious food. Y/N knew her mom probably spent hours making everything and smacking her dad’s hands away from grazing on all of it while helping her. Jake helped pull Y/N’s chair out, while she got Alex situated in the highchair. Jake appreciated that James and Clara let the kids sit at the table with the adults. He knew that his parents would throw a fit if any of their grandkids tried to sit at the head table. The kids were always pushed into the kitchen, where one of the nannies his sisters hired would watch them, making sure they didn’t get too loud.

“So, Tate,” Carson said, taking a sip of his drink and looking up at Y/N with a glint in his eye. He knew of her plan to get Jake into the Santa costume and hopefully telling Tate outloud will help seal the deal, “I hear Santa is coming by.”

“He’s not real,” Tate answered and Jake looked at his wife with a shit eating grin, “I’m not five anymore.”

“See, he’s not five, and Alex is too-”

“You are putting on the damn Santa outfit,” Y/N harshly whispered to him, “If I have to stuff you in it myself, you’re putting it on.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Jake challenged and Y/N glared at him. Carson watched as the small stare down between his sister and Jake was broken up by Alex throwing a piece of bread on the floor. He could see that the whole Santa thing was somewhat bothering her, he knew her well enough to know how much Christmas means to her. Y/N had always been the one to hold onto those childhood dreams and fairytales a little bit longer than the average child. She still wished upon falling stars and believed in happy ever after.

“Act surprised when he gets here,” Carson whispered to his son, “For Alex.”

“Why?” Tate asked, “He’s just a baby.”

“Because it means alot to Aunt Y/N,” Carson said and then cleared his throat, “She really likes Christmas and wants things to be special for Alex.”

When everyone's bellies were full, the family retired to the living room, where they started opening gifts from the large pile underneath the Christmas tree. Y/N sat on the floor with Alex in her lap, helping him tear into the packages that Tate was handing them. He was having more fun sticking the wrapping paper in his mouth than trying to open the gifts. Both Clara and Jenny had their phones out making sure to take pictures to capture the moments. The men all sat back with drinks in their hands, talking about cattle and giving the occasional “oh that’s cool” when it was needed.

“Tate, why don’t you help Alex open the gifts from us,” Jenny said and moved down on the floor next to the kids, “Here, I’ll take him.”

“Thank you,” Y/N smiled at her sister-in-law. Y/N moved towards the couch where Jake was sitting, “I noticed you don’t have the Santa costume on,” She whispered to him.

“There’s no need to put the ridiculous suit on,” Jake said, sipping his whiskey, “She’s not going to remember it.” Y/N clenched her jaw as she looked at the ground, “She’s a baby. It can wait until-”

“It can’t wait!” Y/N yelled and the eyes of her family members looked at her. Y/N sucked in a breath to compose herself and stood up from the floor, “I’m sorry. It’s just. . . its tradition.”

“Y/N,” Jake called out to her, trying to grab her hand as she walked away. He sighed in defeat, running a hand over his face.”

“She believed in Santa until she was about fourteen,” James said quietly, “Might’ve been partially our fault. I suckered Ice into dressing up as Santa and coming to the house.”

Clara chuckled, “She probably knew he wasn’t real, but she’d always act surprised for the kids that were around. It’s just the type of person she is. She believes in things like the tooth fairy and Santa Claus and happily ever after. She has a fairytale soul.”

“I never realized how much it meant,” Jake answered, “I just thought it was something silly that she wanted to do for the kids.”

“Everything that girl does has meaning to it. She just doesn’t do things ‘just because’. You’ll learn that soon enough.”

“C’mere, Alex,” James reached for his baby grandson, “How are you this Christmas? How about we open this gift?” He reached for a box that was wrapped in Hawaiian christmas paper. Alex tore open the box, with help of course, and James lifted the lid, “Oh look, Alex! A pair of your very own aviators!”

Y/N was laying on her childhood bed, staring up at the ceiling where there was once glow in the dark stars that Carson helped her put up. James was livid and worried that they would pull the paint off the ceiling, but Carson assured him that it wouldn’t. The next person in this house who loved Christmas traditions besides you was Carson. The ten year age gap between the two of them, meant that Carson filled in the father figure role when James was gone on missions. There were some Christmases where James spent in the middle of the ocean. Carson would stay up to wrap Christmas presents with Clara, and would write in fancy handwriting ‘To who, from Santa’. He’d also eat the cookies, and leave “snowy” (which was actually flour) footprints by the fireplace as if good Ol’ Saint Nick had actually come down the chimney to leave gifts, even though they lived in southern California.

Y/N thought that overtime, her Christmas spirit would fade, but if anything it got stronger. Maybe it was because she had seen the ugly side of life, and craved the bright cheeriness that came with Christmas.

“Sweets?” Y/N heard Jake’s voice before she saw him. Y/N just sighed and listened to his footsteps walk over to you, “I’m sorry about the Santa stuff.”

“My dad tell you I believed in Santa until I was thirteen.”

“He said fourteen.”

“He’s a fucking liar. My cousin Zach told me on my thirteenth birthday that I can’t believe Santa was real anymore,” Y/N said and sat up from her bed, grabbing one of the stuffed bears on the bed and holding it in her lap, “I should be apologizing to you.”

“For what?” Jake asked, and sat next to her on the bed.

“I know the holidays aren’t your thing,” Y/N said and grabbed his hand. Her nervous habit was playing with his hands, “And I shouldn’t have pushed you so much into doing it.”

Jake smiled sadly at her, and grabbed her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it, “The holidays are my thing because they are your thing. They make you happy, and anything that makes you happy makes me happy. Besides, Alex seems to love it.”

Y/N giggled and shook her head, moving closer to her husband. He wrapped his strong arms around her body, “You’re right, Alex won’t remember this. He’s spending more time shoving wrapping paper in his mouth than knowing what's going on.”

“But we will remember,” Jake said and kissed her cheek, “We will remember Alex’s first Christmas and that’s what matters.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, looking up at him.

“For what, sweets? I nearly ruined this shit.”

“For giving me the best Christmas present ever,” Y/N smiled up at him. He caressed her face and then placed a kiss on her lips. Y/N hummed into the kiss, and ran her fingers through his blonde locks. He moved Y/N in his lap, so she was straddling him, and he laid back against the bed. His hands roamed her body, going down to her hips. Their tongues moved against one another, Y/N being able to taste the whiskey on his tongue.

A knock on the door startled them as Y/N lifted her head up to see Jenny standing in the doorway, “Oh don’t stop on my account,” She had a smirk on her face and Y/N rolled her eyes, “But there’s someone here to see you.”

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows and climbed off of Jake and the bed. Y/N walked down towards the living room and stopped in her tracks seeing,

“Santa?”

“Ho, ho, ho! Merry Christmas!” Santa said, standing in the middle of the living room. Y/N looked at her sister-in-law and Jake.

“Your dad made a call,” Jenny smiled.

“Dad!,” Y/N looked at her father who just shrugged, holding out Alex. She grabbed her child and walked towards ‘Santa’ who was sitting on the couch. Jake looked a bit confused as Y/N gently placed Alex in Santa’s arm, Clara taking pictures of every single moment.

Jake walked over to James, who was standing in the background, “Who did-” Jake asked, but heard Santa speak again, “Iceman?”

James shrugged again, “He lost poker last week.”

Jake shook his head, and then walked towards his family. James let out a breath in relief as he watched his family gather around to talk to “Santa”. Alex surprisingly didn’t cry when he was set on Santa’s lap, probably because he was too distracted by all the movement around him.

“Get together you three,” Clara said, grabbing Y/N’s phone from her, “I’ll take a picture.”

“Jake, sit on the other side of Santa’s lap,” Y/N said and he gave you a deadpanned look, “It’s for the memories, sweetheart.”

“Only for you, honey,” Jake gave her a fake smile as he carefully sat on Iceman’s other knee.

“Don’t break me Hangman,” Iceman whispered, “I can still make you run from here to North Island and back,”

“You wouldn’t-”

“It’s for the kid, don’t be a grinch! Smile!” Iceman said, looking towards Clara with the phone camera pointed at them.

“Okay, smile!” Clara said, “1. . . 2. . . 3!”

Y/N, Jake, and “Santa” smiled at the camera as Alex was still looking up amazed at Santa. Y/N took him from Santa’s lap and looked at the pictures her mother took.

“They’re perfect!” Y/N cheered, “Thank you so much, Santa.”

“No problem! Ho, ho, ho!” Santa said and James led him out the front door.

Jake put his arm around Y/N shoulders, “You know what they say about Mistletoe.”

She looked up above her head to see the green twig hanging above them. Y/N smiled and grabbed Jake’s face, bringing him down to her for a kiss, “Merry Christmas, Mr. Seresin.”

“Merry Christmas to you, Mrs. Seresin.”

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priniya · 11 months ago

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🎥 ACTRESS’ SAVIOUR

SYNOPSIS. when doctor reid finds himself enamoured with a certain actress with bright future ahead of her, she gets kidnapped and all he wants to do is save her by any cost.

going to your father’s bureau for the first time could’ve been considered an usual experience, something that could occur on a daily basis — a daughter, stopping by her parent’s workplace to possibly drop him off breakfast he left at home.

for you, on the other hand, it was a stressful occurrence. it was one of the first times at the BAU, where agent hotchner’s been working for years. the reason behind your rare visits there was relatively simple, you weren’t aware you even had a father until you turned sixteen and your mother has passed away. it was, when the social services found out that beside her, you had other living relatives, so… instead of an orphanage, you moved to quantico. building a relationship with a man, who already had a wife and a son, and no idea that his high school relationship has resulted in a kid, was rough. but here you were, six and a half year later, nervously standing inside the elevator, hoping that nothing would go wrong.

however, it had to go, you wouldn’t be yourself if everything went smoothly. as you looked into your phone to check a notification that popped up on the screen, you were met with a person — too quickly to realise that you were bound to bump into someone. the man in front of you was holding a half–empty cup of steaming coffee that other half spilled all over his brown sweater. a flush washed over you immediately, having taken a notice of what just happened.

“i am so sorry, sir.” your nervousness reached its peak the second your eyes laid on the man in front of you. he was tall, definitely taller than you, almost towering over you, glasses were resting on the bridge of his nose as he grimaced. from the plastic plate on his chest you read his name. spencer reid.

“well, uh. it’s alright.” he muttered, walking past you to change out of his stained piece of clothing, giving you all the reasons to overthink this situation, feeding your anxieties.

the confident attitude you tried to put on was now long gone as you made it through to your father’s office. it was a struggle, because you couldn’t remember how to get there, but when you did, your cheeks flushed even more upon seeing spencer, standing next to your dad, his stained shirt nowhere to be found. “excuse me, uh–” you started, announcing your presence, earning a few curious looks. “dad, you left the breakfast at home.”

“dad?” you heared a female voice whisper, and you swore your guts to know that she looked around the room for an answer, while, unfortunately for her, being left with nothing more than a shrug. the last name on the plastic clipped onto your shirt didn’t match with their boss’, which only confused them more.

hotch cleared his throat, giving you the tiniest smile as he took the brown bag from you. “y/n, these are special agents morgan, prentiss, rossi, garcia and doctor reid. you already know jj.” he said, confusing them even more. “this is my daughter, y/n.”

“hey, i know you from somewhere.” a woman spoke out, her colorful dress catching your attention immediately. “oh my gosh, hotch why didn’t you tell me that you’re daughter is playing on the russos life? i love that show!” her words brought heat to your cheeks.

the russos life was your first bigger gig that got you a little bit of recognition in show-busines and social media. at the beginning of your small acting career, you promised yourself that you’d not go to the television, because theatre was your thing. you can’t even recall the moment when your point of view changed, maybe it was after the call from your agent suggesting you that you should take the role, because the producers were already interested. or, most likely it was when you fell in love with a role you were proposed.

you stayed in the conference room (and in the building in general) for the next few minutes. after you had left, the sweet sound of your voice was still lingering in spencer’s mind that somehow went unnoticed by the team. he was sitting at his desk, frowning over something, when the clock hit three and the decision was quickly made in his mind — go grab a sandwich or you’ll go crazy. the funniest thing for people around him (if he ever let them know) might be that he couldn’t quite grasp the reason of his interest in you. reid found his thoughts trailing off to you as he hovered over the raports he was filling out that he almost wrote your name in there. he pushed the door of a nearby cafe open, intuitively scanning the place. his eyes were all over the place until he felt someone at his back.

“shit— sir, i’m sorry, i don’t know what’s happening with me to–” you began to rumble as the man you bumped into turned to face you. your face grew redder, the second you realized it’s the same person you’d bumped into already, which only made you feel more embarrassed.

oh.

“doctor reid, i’m really sorry.” you hoped your words came off as genuine, because they were. it almost seemed like you had some sort of scheme against him that you had to bump into him whenever he’s around. “at least i didn’t have a coffee on me, right?” an awkward smile crept on your lips, trying to ease the situation.

the corners of his mouth twitched slightly as spencer was taking in your beauty. the way your eyes flickered, the way lipgloss coated your lips, the way you had your hands behind your back or the way you tilted your head to get a better view of his face. the height gap between you and spencer wasn’t a lot, but it was definitely a little troubling. “thank god, i didn’t exactly have another spare shirt on me.” his repsonse made you chuckle quietly, feeling the embarrassment wash away with each word that left his mouth.

you don’t even know how much time had passed since you started your little conversation with doctor reid. even though you were the one rambling on and on, he has asked you a few times about your job, genuinely interested in what you do on set and what is your show about. he remembered the cheap looking show lila had played in, back when the bau had her case. you told him all about the plays you partook throughout the entirety of your school year and he dumped all the facts he knew about the plays on you.

you could see yourself getting fond of his presence around you, it felt eerily comforting, which for you was strange. until you moved to your dad’s place, you had rare contact with the opposite gender outside the plays, no real father figure, no closer relationship with a guy before, you had never felt so comfortable around a man, who you just met. so… it wasn’t really strange that you ended up exchanging numbers, what could be strange (for reid’s friends) was that he was the first one to call.

he kept calling, while you kept happily responding. it grew to be some sort of your thing, almost as if each of you were one another’s happy place. whenever he got frustrated with a case, he’d call you to take things off his mind, which always went smoothly. spencer was probably the biggest fan of your endless rambling about your classes or people you found annoying during the day.

the phone calls got more and more regular with each week passed, and when you didn’t call him to say good morning one day, his conscience was going absolutely crazy, his guts telling him something was off. nevertheless, his thoughts were pushed aside as his phone rung out with a call from jj, alerting on a new case.

“NYPD asked for our assistance in a possible serial killer case.” jareau explained as she handed the case files to the rest of the team. “over the course of last few days, four females were strangled before the unsub stabbed them multiple times.” she took a long sigh. “each of the girl was around the age of twenty to twenty three, studied in the state and majored in the arts fields, lived alone, but were socially active.”

a shiver ran down spencer’s spine as he heard jennifer’s words. the victimology were too familiar to you, making the unsettling feeling come back to him. pulling out his phone from the deep of his pocket, he managed to send you a quick text, asking to call him as soon as you see his message.

but you didn’t call him back. he was thinking about you all the time they were gathering more information, but there was some that shocked the team the most. the letters craved on each of the victims’ bodies. at first it seemed… like random letters, a code maybe.

“what if it’s an anagram?”

after that, spencer wrote the letters on the board, his throat tightening when the realisation hit him. the letters could be put in as your first and last name. “hotch, uh, i– can we talk, in private?” he muttered, before leavng the room the NYPD set up for them. his hands were shaking as he paced around the room, trying to find the right words to tell hotchner about his theory.

“y/n and i have been talking lately.” spencer started. “i–i got this strange feeling today, she often texted me in the mornings, almost every day in the past few days and–and she didn’t do that today.” he took a deep breath, flattering his brown shirt. “maybe i’m biased, but i think something bad happened to her, the anagram was– it was her name, hotch.” his words were falling out of his lips almost too fast for your dad to understand.

but aaron hotchner has always been the smartest guy out there, the meaning behind spencer’s words almost immediately got to him, because once again his child was in danger, he had a feeling, when he learnt the victimology, but when spencer said those words, his suspicions were confirmed. “reid. i need you to go to her apartment, i suppose you know the address?”

fifteen minutes later, young doctor was at the door of your apartment. it wasn’t exactly the first time he was there, but it didn’t matter now, not when you could be in danger with a serial killer, looking for you. “y/n?” he knocked on the door three times, when he got no answer, he did the morgan speciality, kicking the door open.

your entire flat was quiet, completely out of place. the last time he was there, around two weeks ago, it wasn’t as neat as it was right now. you had your scripts scattered around the coffee table, pillows disheveled on the couch, dishes laying around the counter, although now, everything was clean. almost too clean. then he found it, a small piece of paper underneath a cup that you made him coffee in.

you won’t keep us apart.

he recognised the fact that your handwriting was different, even though you liked keeping your place a little more messy, often calling it ‘artist’s mess’, your handwriting was neat and precise. you didn’t write this note.

“sir? you’ve gotta take a look at that.”

the last thing you remember was walking down the street, a phone in your hand about to send a quick message to reid that you’d call him as soon as you get to your flat. it was a habit of yours, texting the young doctor to give him a notice you’d call to ramble about your day. just the thought of talking to him had given you butterflies, a thought of hearing his voice after a long day at university and on set was enough to make your day better. you were about to send the message, when a guy bumped into you with so much force you barely kept yourself on ground. before you knew it, you felt an overwhelming rush of pain, passing out soon after.

your consciousness was regained, but the place wasn’t familiar. a small room with window covered with a black fabric that didn’t let any light inside. the walls had pictures stuck all over them. pictures of you, from at least four months back. each day when you were coming back from campus, there was a photo, of you at the library, at the club with your friends, going back from school, even one that captured how you giggled at one of spencer’s facts, when he visited you.

the level of anxiety peaked, when the person who locked you up came back, a bouquet of flowers in his hands, the one you loved so dearly, the one’s your mom had always put up in vases at your house, the one you got from your manager after wrapping up the season one of the russos life. “we’re sorry.” he spoke out, his voice hoarse, cracking here and there.

“but we’re finally together, y/n/n.” he whispered, getting closer to you with each word. “no one will be able to keep us apart. we’re together, for eternity.” his hand grapped your jaw to make you look at him, his lips barely inches apart.

you could feel the overwhelming pain washing over you again, realizing that he probably stabbed you back there on the street — with that realisation, it hurt even more.

his hands were rough on your skin, almost leaving a burnt mark on your cheeks. he caressed it, trying to maintain a gentle manner, causing you to tear up. “please, let me go.” you whispered, looking at him with teary eyes. “please.” his rough, yet gentle hand slapped you across the face, attitude changing immediately.

“no.” he groaned angrily, gripping your jaw even harder than the first time. “you’re not leaving. not when we’re finally together. eternity, sun. together for eternity.” his words almost burnt into your mind.

how long were you there? days, weeks, months maybe. you couldn’t know. the lack of sun, barely any food and water was driving you crazy, nevertheless, right when he left you alone, you realized something that came up to you as a moral of reid’s story he told you about a certain case with a man obsessed with a woman. you had to play into his fantasy, no matter how it hurt and how painful it was, it was necessary to gain his trust.

and you did, played right into his delusional fantasy of you until he trusted you enough to make a mistake. leaving the door unlocked. you left in such a hurry, you couldn’t breathe. the air was suffocating, it was dark, so dark you felt scared that someone would attack you again.

“oh my, miss, are you okay? you’re bleeding.” a lady called out to you, grabbing your shoulder in a soft manner, the presence of a female soothing your nerves a little.

“i– i need to make a phone call, please, could i use your phone?” before you knew it, you were dialing one of the numbers you memorised by heart.

“doctor spencer reid, can i help you with anything?” his monotonous voice rang out in the phone, causing you to sigh in relief. “sorry?” he added. you imagined him frowning, like when he tried to teach you how to play chess and you kept giggling at how frustrated he was getting, while you pretended to not know a thing about chess.

“spence.” another escaped left your lips. “i– i don’t know where i am. i know you’re in quantico, put please help me out, there’s a guy, who—” you started rambling, your vision getting blurry.

“y/n, i know.” he whispered. “we’re in new york, garcia’s tracking your location right now, please stay on the call with me.”

“spence,” you started, holding onto the woman next to you for stability. “i– he’s done something to me, i think– i think, i might pass out.” your tone was quieter with each words, almost stuttering as you felt your limbs weakening.

your world was crushing down on you, the nearby buildings suffocating you, not letting you breathe, the stab wounds overwhelming. the next thing you knew, you were in the hospital, machinery plugged into you, your eyelids heavy as you opened them.

“you’re awake.” a familiar voice filled your eardrums as you tried propping up on the bed, stopped by the ripping pain. “hey, hey. don’t move, you’re okay.” his hand was in his, holding you so gently and tenderly you wanted to cry. it wasn’t like their unsub’s, doctor reid was genuine, the way he held your hand was almost… symbolical.

you had four stab wouds on your stomach that the man wrapped into a foil to stop you from bleeding out, but it ripped when you ran away. your face was bruised, marks left by his hands visible on your upper neck and jaw.

“you’re okay.” he repeated his words almost as if spencer tried to reassure himself that nothing would happen to you anymore. definitely not on his watch. “i won’t let him do anything to you again, i promise.” he planted a tender kiss on your hand, squeezing it softly. none of you realized that the rest of spencer’s team, including your father, was standing in the doorway, observing the little moment between you and doctor reid.

the one thing that burst your bubble was derek’s laughter, after having told a joke that obviously involved you, spencer and the fact that he was the first one you called after getting out of the unsub’s place. “looks like pretty boy stole your daughter from you, hotch.” morgan’s elbow nudged your dad’s side.

aaron wasn’t dumb, and from the very beginning, he knew that there would be something going on between the two of you. hotch knew that from the way reid’s lingered on you, when you visited the bureau. how his eyes would always slip to his phone or how he had to get away from the office to make a phone call, lasting all through his lunch break, so when four days ago he told his boss about the suspicions, it all came together.

“i know it’s early, but you have to tell us if you remember everything from those days.” your dad’s tone was soft. if he wasn’t so good at this job, you’d think he tried to make you relive the moment again, but hotch has always been great and you knew it, he wanted to catch the person who did this to you.

“it was, uh.” the words coming out of your mouth was weak, which was no surprise for anyone, since you could barely have your head up to look at the concerned faces of people in your room. “a white guy, his late twenties maybe. i don't remember much beside his hands. i thought of it as something that maybe would let you catch him.”

“what about his hands, sweetheart?” morgan asked. he was standing next to prentiss and rossi, who noted all the important things you said. “did he lack any fingers? had only one hand?"

“no, no.” you shook your head. "spencer told me that, um, most of the sophisticated killers have smooth hands. his weren’t smooth at all. it was rough, like if he was working since he was a kid.” images were flashing through your mind at the speed of light. nevertheless, it didn't feel enough. “it looked like he was in the middle of psychotic break or was off meds, he kept using plural pronouns like if there was another person, but he was alone the whole time i was there.”

when the interview was done, jj stayed behind to talk to you a little. her facial expression revealing that she was interested in your friendship with the young doctor from her team. “so… spencer told you?” she lifted her eyebrows, sitting on the edge of your hospital bed.

“yeah…” your reply sounded a little sheepish. “i kind of ran into him twice, when i came to your office half a year ago, the first time i was too embarrassed to say anything other than ‘i’m so sorry, sir’, but the second time was on his break, i think and it kind of… went smoothly from there.” a blush spread over your cheeks, but jennifer didn’t comment on that.

“you’d look cute together.” her words made your brain go a little fuzzy. maybe she was right, but something in your gut told you that nothing would be happen between the two of you, spencer was the type of guy in love with his work, not a random girl he met on a random tuesday. although, his mind was an enigma, how could you be so sure of that?

“c’mon, jj.” you mumbled, looking away. “we’re friends, strictly platonic.”

the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach was there, even after the unsub was caught two days after you were free to leave the hospital. it was only growing, when you were alone with a man you weren’t exactly close with. as bad as it made you feel, being around your dad’s co–workers was almost paralysing. morgan, rossi, the cops involved in your case, who tried talking to you about the entire thing, it was making your hands shake.

“spence?” you whispered, after having knocked on the door of his hotel room, a day before they left.

he opened the door immediately, almost as if his guts told him you were on the other side. he looked like you’d just woken him up. his hair all over the place, his gaze sleepy. a t–shirt loose on his body as he pulled you inside, closing the door behind you. “hey, sorry. i didn’t mean to wake you up, thought you’d be still up.” you couldn’t bring yourself to speak louder.

“i had a feeling you’d swing by.” his words made your cheek grow hotter, because to be honest… you were thinking about seeing him, laying down on the bed unable to sleep. “what’s on your mind?” he asked, bringing his hand to your chin, causing you to look at him.

“are all the profilers doing that?” you asked, mesmerised by the way his eyes roamed around your face, a small smirk appearing on his lips.

“subconsciously, yeah.” you chuckled. “don’t go off topic. something is bothering you, you know i see it.”

“i just… wanted to see you.” embarrassment rolled off your tongue, knowing that probably lots of women had already told him that. mostly, because morgan told you about the time, when prostitutes tried hitting on him during one of the cases — spencer had his charm, but you couldn’t be sure if he knew. “jesus, you can’t look at me like that, when you’re all that.”

“all that?” reid’s laughter rang in your ears as he made a step towards you, reducing the distance between you two.

“yeah? have you seen yourself before you opened the door? man, i had four stab wounds and—” you began to ramble, but his smirk and the look on his face make you stop, before another chuckle left his lips. “what?”

“nothing.”

“reid!” you groaned, punching him slightly in the arm as he still held your face, tilting it upwards.

seconds later, his mouth were on your, his lips moving against yours tenderly. his free hand squeezing your waist gently, pushing you even closer. it was the first time you felt any type of comfort in the past few days. you were completely speechless as the kiss broke off, looking at him with big eyes.

“i– you–.” you stuttered.

“it’s funny, you usually can’t stop rambling, but now you’re a stuttering mess.” he chuckled once again, his arms firm, yet gentle on your waist as he continued to tease you with a smirk that wouldn’t get off his face.

“i thought if i did something wrong, i’d not see you again.” he whispered, his nose brushed against yours. your breath hitched in your throat at the proximity. “it made me realise how many things i should’ve done before, how important you became to me, y/n. i can’t go on without a thought of you in my mind, you’re like a plague that i don’t– that i’d never get rid of.”

“i know this job is hectic and that i’m a mess most of the time, but you’re the only one that keeps me sane after what i see.” his lips brushed against yours again and you didn’t protest.

“so… you’re saying that you can’t stop thinking about me.” it was your turn to smirk at him, your heart tingling with a feeling unknown, yet so familiar that always appeared around him. “i can’t stop thinking about you, too, you know. i, uh, had this feeling that if i get out, you’d be there somewhere to keep me safe.”

“i am, and i always will, promise.”

“is it you asking me out right now?” a quiet giggle escaped your mouth, earning a hum in return. “only if you’re gonna say yes.”

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #niki’s works 🫂

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resident-gay-bitch · 10 days ago

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🏳️‍⚧️ Trans Tuesdays 🏳️‍⚧️

3 times Eddie was shocked to find out things about his friends dating life, and 1 time he was shocked about his own. (Transfem Stevie)

“Wait, what?!” Eddie shouted, staring at Robin incredulous.

“I’m. A. Lesbian.” She repeated, clapping her hands between each word, “Do you need a dictionary definition on what that means, dingus? Because it’s not-“

“No-“ Eddie interrupted, shaking his head, hands sternly on his hips, “I know what a lesbian is, don’t worry. I just didn’t know you were one!”

“Oh… well, yeah, I am.” She shrugged, “Obviously! Whose idea did you think it was to have a Michelle Pfeiffer movie marathon?”

“Huh.” Eddie nodded, giving her a once over, “Well that clears some things up.”

“God, you’re such a dingus sometimes.” Robin snorted, scruffing up his hair, “Come on, we’re gonna be late to meet Stevie if we don’t leave now.”

☆ ★ ☆

“Wait, what?!” Eddie said, doing a double take and charging backwards, almost stacking it down the stairs to the Wheelers basement.

“No! Nothing!” Will shouted, slapping his hand over his mouth, Mike beside him groaned.

“Nuh uh, not nothing. Don’t try to lie to me you little shits. I saw you two smooching it up.” He said, his voice a harsh whisper as he stared down at them. Or, well, attempted to since they’re almost taller than him these days. “Spill.”

“We don’t have to tell you anything.” Mike sassed.

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie sassed right back, “Tell that to the three headed fire breathing dragon who has it out for you, Mighty Palladian.”

Mike groaned, “We’re not gay!”

“Well, last I checked you’re both dudes.” Eddie tutted, “So, what’s this, hmm? I’m not letting you be a little bitch and use your best friend as your experiment.”

“I’d never do that!” Mike clipped.

“Experiment?” Will asked, his face scrunched up.

“Oh, yeah, been there.” Eddie scoffed self-deprecatingly, chucking a thumb at himself, “Don’t tell anyone, but I went through half the football team.”

“Wait, you’re gay?” Mike glared at him.

“Nuh duh.” Eddie blabbered, tongue rolling out of his mouth, “I thought you little shits knew.”

“I knew.” Will shrugged.

“Why did you know?” Mike argued.

“I just knew.” Will said back.

“Hey now, little dudes, enough of that.” Eddie shook his head, “Now come on, what’s going on here? Is this some creepy weirdo exploration thing or have you gone all sweet ‘n shit on each other.”

“Don’t tell anyone, okay.” Will hissed, grabbing Mike's hand, “We’re dating.”

“He didn’t need to know that.” Mike groaned.

“Wouldn’t you rather someone know?” Will raised an eyebrow, “Someone you actually look up to and like?”

“Aww, Little Wheeler, you look up to me?” Eddie asked, a hand splayed over his heart, “I’m honoured.”

“I’m outta here.” Mike rolled his eyes, pushing past Eddie and up the stairs, “I swear if you tell anyone, I’m gonna go steal all your Dungeon Master notes-“

Eddie gasped dramatically, “You wouldn’t!”

“Watch me.” Mike rolled his eyes, accidentally letting a smile slip before he was fully turned around.

☆ ★ ☆

“Wait, what?” Eddie asked, choking on his sandwich, staring up at his uncle.

“I said-“

“I know what you said.” He shook his head, “I just… you are in a relationship?”

“Yes.” Wayne nodded, “I’m very happy.”

“Oh, wow.” Eddie breathed, “I did not expect this happening when I woke up this morning.”

Wayne chuckled at him, “It ain’t that crazy, son.”

“Yeah it is!” Eddie protested, “I didn’t think you even cared about relationships or nothing. You’ve always been just Wayne to me.”

“Yeah, cause you were a sad little kid that needed my full attention.” Wayne huffed, “Now, you’re an adult and I’d like a relationship.”

“Huh…” Eddie nodded, and began to eat his sandwich again, “So can I meet him?”

“You already have.”

“When?” Eddie asked, furrowing his brow.

“His name’s Scott, and I love him very much, and we met at your middle school parent teacher interviews and have been putting off our feelings since then.”

“That long? Wayne!” Eddie groaned, “Is he like a single dad or something?”

“No, he’s your old science teacher.”

“Wait, what!”

☆ ★ ☆

“Wait, what?” Eddie asked, scrunching his face, looking at Steve on the verge of short circuiting.

“Yeah, I just can’t do this anymore, Eddie.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I like you, so much, and I just…”

“Stevie, I’m gay.” Eddie said, now looking at him with desperation, “Steve I’m so gay, I’m the gayest any dude could ever be. Holy shit, I like you too!”

“You are?” Steve said, his eyes beginning to well up a little.

“Yes!” Eddie said, jumping on the spot, “I’m so fucking gay, Stevie. Gayer than the day is long! Please go out with me.”

Steve huffed, giving Eddie a saddened smile, “I’m not a guy, though.”

“Wait… what?” Eddie asked, scrunching his nose, “What do you mean?”

“I’m transgender…” Steve said, looking at the ground, “I’m actually a woman.”

“Wait, you’re transgender?” He asked, whispering the next part to himself, “God, everythings happening this week…”

Steve nodded her head, “Yeah, I can’t… I’m sorry, Eddie, but if you’re gay-“

“I’m bisexual, actually. I’m so bisexual, please go out with me.”

“Eddie, you can’t just change your sexuality.”

“Uh, well, apparently you can, because I just did.” Eddie sassed, “I was gay, now I’m bisexual, cause I have a big ol’ crush on you, and if you’re a woman, that makes me bisexual.”

Steve glared at him.

“So, can I take you out on a date now?” He said, staring up at Steve with stars in his eyes.

“Are you being serious? This isn’t just a joke, Eddie, it’s my identity.”

“I know.” He said, deadpan, “It’s mine too. Hell, I’m finding so many things out this week, it’s crazy. So like, do I still call you Steve or…?”

“I prefer Stevie.”

Eddie grinned, “Sick. So Stevie, about that date?”

Stevie huffed, “You realise if this goes anywhere I’d be your girlfriend, not your boyfriend.”

“Holy shit, you wanna be my girlfriend?” He beamed at her, “This is so metal, can I kiss you, I wanna kiss you so bad, Stevie, please be my girlfriend right now.”

“Oh…” Stevie muttered, finally smiling, “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Eddie just about fainted.

Stevie has my heart oh my fucking god I love her *Screams hysterically from the rooftops*

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bamboozledbird · 30 days ago

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IGNITE: A Teen Wolf S1 AU (Reader's Version) // Prev. / Chapter 6

Characters: Stiles Stilinski, fem!reader, ofc, omc Pairing: Eventual Stiles x Reader, but man are we talking slow burn Word Count: 6k Warnings: Canon typical gore/violence, parental death (rip to your fake mom), depictions of depression (apathy, dissociation, 'numb little bug' vibes) Tags: Canon has been lovingly scrapped for parts, author is a chaotic bi and it shows, prolific overuse of the em dash, the slowest of burns i fear

Summary: You can always smell ash long after the fire is gone. Perhaps, that’s why you still can’t breathe without choking on the past. It’s been four years since your mom died. Four years since she burned alive. Four years since you didn’t. You survived, but they must have buried your heart with her because most days you feel like a shadow, some horrifically sad creature caught halfway between a ghost and a lamb for slaughter.

You can’t scrub the bitter smell of hospital from your memories, not even with denial. Maybe, that’s why death and disease follows Stiles wherever he goes now. It’s been eight years since his mom died. Eight years since he didn’t. Eight years since he decided that he wouldn’t let anyone he loved die ever again. He survived, but Beacon Hills’ bloody underbelly is making it pretty damn hard for him to keep his promise.

Time never stops turning. The grief never dissipates. Children soldier on—but in a town where all the monsters under the bed are real, and old family secrets rattle in every closet, how long can two fragile, breakable humans survive?

Maybe, the real question is: How long will they want to?

Chapter Summary: You go full Charlie Kelly and start to put all the pieces together. Stiles knows more than he lets on, but for some reason you trust him anyway.

A/N: check me out on ao3 (dork_knight) for the full lore version!

Taglist: @eaterof-concrete, @m30wk1ttycat

You played and replayed the video at least a hundred times, over and over again, examining every poorly shot, grainy frame until your eyes burned. You were frantic—a rabbit, picking her den apart, ripping her fur out, searching for all the minute flaws and misplaced straw; a girl, chewing her cheek bloody, tearing at her tights, desperately looking for some kind of explanation that wouldn’t completely shatter her fragile grasp on reality.

It would be one thing if it was just the video. You could easily rationalize the video away; you’d seen enough fan-made edits of Buffy and Twilight to know that amateur editors were hardly amateurs anymore—but it wasn’t just the video. It was the video, and the gutted video clerk, and the mangled bus driver, and the severed woman with wolf fibers found her butchered corpse—all interconnected by one very furry, clawed, fanged… thing.

Rolling onto your back, you scrubbed at your eyes, fingers cruel and violent in their attempt to scour away images of blood, and death, and monsters. There had to be an explanation. A rational explanation. Your gaze reflexively drifted towards the charm bundle on your windowsill, propped up against a few of your favorite novels.

The books were old, spines creased and splitting at the corners from little fingers and a lot of love. They were your mom’s before they were yours; you read them together under the covers whenever it rained. For a long time, you kept them hidden away under your bed with all the other things that might crumble your brittle will, but the yellowing pages steeped in memories didn’t seem so haunting anymore. You were already halfway through the stack, consuming the faded ink like a fiend in the night. It was odd; there wasn’t much that had changed since now and then. Really, only one thing. It made sense, you supposed after some thought. Your childhood favorites: Nancy Drew, Sherlock Holmes, the Hercule Poirot novels, they were exactly the kind of thing a sheriff’s son would appreciate.

The largest book in the pile was your complete collection of Sherlock Holmes. You chewed on your lip, eyes tracing the elegant swoops and swirls illuminated on the spine. Words curled along your brainstem in time with the loops, breaking through the buzzing in your mind with quiet British flourish: When you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.

Your nose scrunched, bottom lip trapped between your teeth. Surely, you hadn’t eliminated all logical explanations yet. Surely.

The metallic embellishments glinted at you, taunting you with their unmistakable presence and insistent reminder of your evening’s unavoidable ending. There was only one place to go for the improbable, after all; you just had to get past your pride and everything you believed to be true.

Before you could finish putting on your shoes, your dad found his way into your room. He lingered on the border of the black cherry floor. His stance was awkward, unsure of his footing, and you froze with your shoelace in hand. After a moment of stilted silence, he cleared his throat and loosened his tie from its chafing Windsor knot, “I just wanted to let you know I’ll be out later than usual.”

Nodding, you tied your laces into neat bows and pulled the wrinkles in your tights straight, “Parent Teacher Conferences, right?”

“Mhm,” he paused and attempted a smile. The edges were stiff, as if his mouth had forgotten the movement, at least when directed at you, “Should I be worried?”

It was his attempt at a joke; you knew that. You still felt a flutter of anxiety. Despite Stiles’s reassurances, you weren't so cavalier about breaking the rules. “All A’s,” you finally said, quietly to your feet.

Your dad gave you a real smile; smaller than his previous attempt at playfulness, but this one was your favorite. He was proud. It’d been a long time since he’d looked at you with anything other than grief and unease. “That’s my girl.” He rapped his knuckles against your door frame and said, “There’s takeout money on the table. Don’t stay out too long; there’s a—”

“Curfew, I know.” You slung your bag over your shoulder and fiddled with the strap, “I’ll be back soon.”

He didn’t ask you where you were going. He never did. You weren't sure what that said about your relationship, but you didn’t want to think about it any longer than you had to. There were far more pressing things to dwell on.

Maggie was in her kitchen when you opened the door to her house. It was cozy, small; she'd inherited it from her mother when she passed years ago. There were still signs of her 70s nostalgia all over every room. The shag carpet was horrendous, but you kind of liked the color. The muted green almost looked like a bed of moss, like something out of a fairytale. You had your own key; you’d had one since you were old enough to be a latchkey kid—even though you were never really on your own for long. There was always someone around to help you with your homework, bake you brownies without getting shell in the batter, read you stories about far away places and imaginary worlds. You’d had a wonderful childhood until it ended; some people weren’t that lucky. You knew that you were fortunate to have twelve years of Rockwellian bliss; it was more than a lot of people got. Knowing, however, still didn’t make the after any easier.

“Want a scone?” Maggie’s head was buried in the oven, steam curling around her shoulders. She emerged with a tray of browned lumps in pink oven-mitted hands, “They're slightly burnt, but it’s not my fault. My timer betrayed me.”

You didn’t reply. You chewed on your lip and studied the plants hanging from the ceiling. The Angelica was in full bloom, little clusters of white fuzzy fireworks. The roots were supposed to ward off evil. You would’ve scoffed at the thought a week ago. Now, there was a lingering ‘what if’ you couldn’t shake.

You sighed quietly, the exhaustion rattling through your chest, and trailed your gaze to the next plant. Skullcaps were your favorite, not because they were supposed to induce visions, obviously; you liked the blossoms. The fluted periwinkle petals certainly looked magical. You picked a flower from the lowest stem and rolled it between your fingers, “You really believe in this shit, right?” You looked up from your hands and studied Maggie’s face carefully, “It’s not all a scam?”

The anticipated gasp carried through the kitchen, followed by the clang of a plonked baking sheet, “I resent the very implication.”

“I’m serious.” You stared at Maggie’s back, watching for any tell-tale signs of tension or rigidity, “Do you really believe that witches are real and wolfsbane can kill werewolves?”

“I will not be abused in my own home,” there was a lilt in Maggie’s voice, a flippancy that usually made your lips twitch into a smile, but Maggie's hand trembled and sent the scone on the edge of her spatula to the floor. Maggie dropped to her knees and scooped the crumbling pieces into a pile with desperate hands, oddly frantic for something as silly as a dropped pastry.

You squatted next to her and rested your hands over Maggie’s until they stilled. “Mags,” you were quiet, gentle in your sweeping, but Maggie didn’t seem soothed by the clean floor.

Maggie’s chin lifted, but her eyes zeroed in on the tip of your nose instead of your eyes. “Babe.”

You gripped your knees, clinging to the caps with ragged nails and flexed knuckles, like your bones were the only solid thing left in the room. “Can you be serious for once in your life, please.” Your tongue went heavy, adhering to the floor of your mouth, effectively sealing everything else you couldn’t bring yourself to say: Please, I think I’m losing my mind, and I don’t know how much longer I can white-knuckle it.

Maggie turned towards the counter carelessly, and her pinky brushed against the cookie sheet. She let out a sharp hiss through her teeth and shook her hand in the air. “Why does it matter?” Her words were muffled through the blistering finger in her mouth, “People buy what they want to buy.”

Your empathy was thinning and so was your patience. Your teeth gnashed, and you winced when your tongue got in the way. “I don’t give a shit about your delusional customers. You know what I mean.”

“See, ‘delusional,’” Maggie stuffed a scone into her mouth even though it was still steaming. Her eyes watered as she struggled to swallow the wad of blueberry and oatmeal lodged against the roof of her mouth. “Why are we even talking about this?” she said thickly, throat clogged with congealed crumbs and something skittish in her eyes. She bent over the sink and turned the water to cold; you weren't entirely sure if she was soothing the burns on her tongue or simply avoiding eye contact.

“There’s something happening here,” your voice trembled, much to your disdain, and you were further horrified by the stinging in your tear ducts, “and I don’t know what to do.”

Maggie’s head whipped towards you, wetting her hair and splattering her lenses with water droplets that dripped onto her nose, “You don’t have to do anything. That’s not your job.” She clutched your shoulders with desperate fingers, digging into your scapulae until it hurt, “Your job is to go to school, get good grades, and live happily ever after.”

You shook off her hands and wiped your nose against your shoulder, “Why won’t you just give me a straight answer?”

“Well, I am bi–”

“Maggie,” you struggled for words until there was only one left on your tongue, “please.”

A blank expression fell over her face, and then Maggie seemed to sink through the floor even though she was still standing. “Did you read the book?”

You could barely hear her. Your nose shriveled towards your brows, “What book?”

Her eyes shined with something; you couldn’t quite define it. There was a glimmer of remorse, but you couldn’t make out the rest. “‘Beacon Hills’ Bloodlines’.”

For a moment, you were too confused to be frustrated, “Not really.”

Confusion became bewilderment when Maggie left the kitchen without a word. She returned with a thick book; though, book wasn’t quite accurate. It was really a stack of pulp parchment barely held together with a piece of threaded twine. It looked older than the Bloodline’s journal; you could see a few pages sticking out from the others, and the spine was in desperate need of re-stitching. You reluctantly took the pages from Maggie’s hands after she shook it in your face a couple times.

Maggie was quiet when she finally spoke, “Read the journal.” She nodded towards the new book, “That too.”

You frowned at the cover and held it out in front of you like it was contaminated. “Why are you being so weird about this? Just tell me.”

Maggie looked at you, and the most peculiar sensation rolled down your spine. Maggie's eyes were so present, like a shotgun blast, like a meteor shower. Her voice wasn’t even close to loud, but it was just as piercing as her stare, “I made a promise; I have to keep at least part of it.”

Your forehead creased, “Wha...that’s even weirder. Are you fuckin’ Gandalf? Just say it.”

“Trust me,” Maggie’s gaze shifted to the floor, and you almost melted with relief, “there are some things that you’re better off not knowing.”

“Great. Thanks, Obi-Wan,” you rolled your eyes and crammed the bound parchment into your bag, “I’ll figure it out myself.”

A cool hand cupped your cheek before you could leave. You grudgingly met Maggie’s gaze, adjusting your grip on the strap of your bag.

Maggie held onto your shoulders, a breath away from shaking you. “Promise me, you won’t do anything stupid.”

You grimaced, “I–” A flash in Maggie’s eyes dried all the words on your tongue.

“Promise.”

“Promise,” you mumbled.

Maggie finally let you leave, and your feet felt heavier than they did when you walked into Maggie’s apartment. Your bag was heavier, so perhaps it wasn’t all an illusion. The guilt, however, was certainly playing a part in your sagging shoulders. You chewed on a thumbnail and slipped into the comfort of denial. It didn’t count as a broken promise if you didn’t really know what you were promising.

Your dad was still gone when you got home, and you were relieved. Solitude was your only comfort with all this dread chilling your blood. You weren't good with the unpredictable, not anymore. You tried to study it, the way you did with dead languages and theoretical physics, but the methodology wasn't clear. You just wished, for once, you were as scary as people believed.

There was one thing you could do—or rather two. One was on your desk, and the other was at the bottom of your bag.

You started with the journal, and your hair quickly became a nuisance. Every time you bowed your head to get a better look at the messy scrawl, wispy strands obscured your vision. You tied your hair back and nibbled on your lip, struggling to determine if a smudged loop was an ‘a’ or an ‘o.’ They didn’t have computers in the 1800s, you knew that, but it wouldn’t have killed Maggie’s great-great-great-grandmother to quill with a little less ink. Neat cursive was hardly as taxing as cholera.

The pain at the base of your skull was unbearable by the time you made it through half of the entries. Your impatience was rapidly fraying, with yourself and with the lack of insight. Maybe, this was all an elaborate stall—or maybe Maggie really didn’t know anything.

You flopped back against your pillows and starfished your limbs across your bed until all your joints and muscles unkinked. “Fuck me.” Your eyes flicked down your legs, and you glowered at the journal. It was goading you, opened to the middle and sprawled across your thighs, staring at you and all your incompetence.

Your thumbs dug a trench in your skull as you tried to rub the throbbing out of your temples.

One more page. You could read one more page.

You flipped the page, careful with the crumbling corner. The parchment was cluttered with names and arrows; there were a few illustrations too, sketched portraits of the people memorialized on paper. It was inked chaos, but only one word stood out to you. In a large curling script, Hale was spread all over the complicated family tree. You gnawed on your lip and bent your head closer to the small description at the top of the page: The Hale pack founded Beacon Hills in 1856, saving the town from desolation with their wealth. The pack has several branches, extending across the state. They continue to be a prevalent force in their world.

The bloodlines were difficult to follow with all the different branches and untimely deaths. As far as you could tell, the line was documented all the way to 2002. There were a few different sets of handwriting; the style changed every few decades or so, and you flipped to the end of the family line just to check for Maggie’s chicken scratch. You didn’t find her handwriting, but you did notice something familiar on the last line. Derek Hale.

You knew, of course, that Derek would likely be included, but your breath hitched when your finger traced over the notation inscribed next to almost every single one of his family members’ names: Deceased: Arson. Laura Hale was still alive on the tree, and the thought of documenting her death—of giving her an end date —it stole all the air from your lungs.

Your eyes burned, and you quickly flipped back to the start of the Hale bloodline. A few dozen county death records later, the burning in your corneas was due to the strain of one too many computer searches. Still painful, but you much preferred blue light sting to the threat of tears. You focused on it, on the ache; it was so much quieter than all the thoughts fighting you for their turn. They were so loud, a million ravenous locusts buzzing, feasting on your ear canal. You couldn’t make out what they were saying, what they were trying to tell you—what they wanted you to believe.

Derek Hale couldn’t be a werewolf because that would mean werewolves were real, and if werewolves were real, how many other monsters were lurking in the dark? How many creatures from Maggie’s stories were waiting for someone to separate from the herd, biding their time until they could sink their teeth into human flesh?

There was only so much you could find online and in Maggie’s books. Certain secrets had yet to be written.

It was disturbingly easy to find out where Stiles lived. The receptionist at the Sheriff’s station was all too happy to give you his address when you gave her your name. You finally stumbled upon the one perk of being an infamous, pathetic half-orphan: blind faith.

His house was smaller than yours, and you were jealous. All the empty space just made the silence worse, you found. You could see a few spots where the paint was peeling when you got closer, and you smiled at the shoddy patch work. You wondered who tried to fix it. You hoped it was Stiles; you could see the paint in his hair, maybe smeared across his cheek from an ill-advised attempt to scratch his nose. It was adorable.

You knocked on the door and clutched Maggie’s books tighter to your chest. You’d expected Stiles to answer the door, but he didn’t. You didn’t know why it hadn’t occurred to you that someone else would be home until Sheriff Stilinski opened the door, but you felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner. The Sheriff looked just as surprised to see you; at least, he had an actual reason.

“Oh.” You blinked and devolved into a monosyllabic moron, “Hi.”

Obviously, you knew Stiles was Sheriff Stilinski’s son, but for some reason the idea of them occupying the same place at the same time was dumbfounding. YOur mind couldn’t make sense of it. There was the Sheriff in one box, with all your grief, all your pain, and then there was Stiles. You didn’t fully know what was in his box, but you knew it was good.

“Hey, kid,” Sheriff Stilinski smiled through his confusion, “you okay? Did something—”

“I’mheretoseeStiles,” all your words were smooshed together in one big exhale.

The Sheriff looked even more confused for a moment, and then he gave you a little conspiratorial grin. “He’s up in his room. Go ahead.”

You nodded absently and followed him inside. You stopped thinking about the hefty pile of books in your arms when you noticed the slight limp in Sheriff Stilinski’s step. “Are you okay?”

The Sheriff followed your gaze and waved his hand, “It’s nothing. Barely a scratch.”

You hesitated at the foot of the stairs, looking for blood or something equally horrific. He had no reason to lie to you, but you’d gotten used to the worst case scenario. “You sure?”

The wrinkles at the corners of his eyes deepened with his smile, “You sound like my son.”

You mouth ticked up slightly, “That’s not an answer.”

Sheriff Stilinski had a nice laugh, you thought. You grinned as his head shook with another rumbling chuckle. “Now you really sound like my son. I hope he hasn’t driven crazy too.”

“Eh,” you shrugged a little and smiled, “he’s alright.” Your voice dropped a little, like you were telling a secret, “More than, actually. He’s…good.”

The Sheriff looked surprised briefly, a spasm of disbelief, and then all the muscles in his face seemed to melt with fondness. “He is,” his voice was a bit gravelly when he spoke, like it got lodged halfway up his throat. He loved his son; it was obvious. You wondered if your dad ever looked like that when talked about you. You wondered if he even talked about you at all.

“Not a lot of people are,” you said quietly, looking down at your sneakers. The white wasn’t even white anymore. They were graying from years of stepping on your own feet, kicking car doors closed, tripping over asphalt. You weren't the kind of girl who could keep shoes clean; that was one thing about you that hadn’t changed. Sometimes, it felt like everything else had, and none of it was for the better.

Sheriff Stilinski waited until you looked up, and then he smiled at you, almost as fondly as before. “You are.”

You were overwhelmed with feeling, so close to an emotion you couldn’t name, but you knew you’d felt it before. Once upon a time, when parents were parents, and children were children.

The Sheriff rested his hand on your shoulder and squeezed. You were tipping into tearful, and you’d never been so grateful to hear Stiles’s voice.

“Dad, who’s—” Stiles stopped at the top of the stairs and stared at the two of you. His jaw dangled, and it didn’t snap shut until his dad snorted. Stiles’s eye twitched, and you could see the reboot loading behind his eyes. You wholly understood the sentiment.

His brain regained function, and apparently all he could come up with was, “Hey.”

You grinned to yourself, a small secret smile at his predicament, and your hand cocked in a little wave, “Hey.”

Sheriff Stilinski cleared his throat, “I’ll—I’m going to get something to eat.” Neither of you looked at him; you were too busy playing a strange staring contest with equally stupid looks on your faces.

Stiles recovered from his stupor once you were alone. His face settled into something bitter, stony at all the edges, irritation tucked into the creases. It was hardly the face you expected to see when you finally paid him a surprise visit.

Your brow curved, and you tried not to shrink in on yourself. “You look pissed.”

Stiles snorted and drummed his fingers against the railing, “Yeah, well, you’re in a perpetual state of pissiness, so we’ve all got problems.” You must have crumpled this time, at least a little bit, because his scowl thawed and his hands fell limply by his sides. “Sorry. That’s not—displaced aggression, it’s my sweet spot.”

You shrugged and smiled slightly, a little stiff, a lot amused, “You’re not exactly wrong.”

“Still.”

You played another game of eye-contact chicken, and Stiles scratched the back of his rapidly flushing neck. Your hair, still damp from the light drizzle, fell in front of your face as you tilted your head towards the stairs, “So, you gonna invite me up, or…”

He nodded a little too quickly and definitely too fervently, “Yeah, sorry. I’m just—”

“Pissed?” you smirked and adjusted your grip on your books, trekking up the stairs. Stiles narrowed his eyes at you, but he was smiling. He had a nice smile; it was big, loose—unrestrained in a way a lot of people were afraid to be. It was the kind of smile you couldn’t help but return.

Stiles let out a profound sigh and shook his head, “It’s all Scott’s fault.” You shot him a dubious look as he pushed his bedroom door open for you. He shrugged, “If I only tell it with carefully selected parts of the story, it’s all his fault.”

Your mouth twitched. Your smile was small, but it peeled back a good deal of the person you thought you should be. So much so, there was a little you peeking underneath. “We can pretend it is. Just for today.”

Stiles’s throat bobbed with his swallow, and when he smiled back at you, slowly, fleetingly, but ever-so sweetly, you finally realized you were awkwardly standing in the middle of his room. Like an idiot.

His room was exactly what you expected, and that was…you didn’t realize that you knew him well enough to expect plaid bedding and posters of cringey emo bands that were heavily featured on most of your playlists.

His desk was cluttered with various books and papers, stacked with no apparent rhyme or reason. You recognized the bestiary he bought from Curio Killed the Cat; the burgundy and gold binding was striking against all his monochrome textbooks. There were a few papers poking out from the aged pages, printouts of something furry and familiar. Before you could get a better look, Stiles bustled past you, doing a quick but rather poor job of hiding his dirty laundry under his bed and behind his closet door.

Stiles was slightly out of breath when he finished, dropping onto the foot of his bed, “So…you stalkin’ me now?”

You rested your hip against his desk and hummed, “Seemed only fair.”

“Well,” his face split into a bright, infuriating grin, “I am flattered.”

“Shut up.” His grin widened, and you rolled your eyes, glaring at your bowed reflection in a chrome lamp on the edge of his desk. It was in grave need of a good dusting, along with most of the room. “You’re literally my only option.”

“So, you’re sayin’ I’m the one.” Stiles’s smirk was audible, and you sputtered.

Your ears were unnaturally hot, and so was the back of your neck. You meant to groan, wanted him to know just how unamusing you found him, but your throat failed you. Your complaint came out airy, huffy, and it trembled against your soft palate. Truthfully, it sounded awfully similar to a whine; you scowled at the sound and squeezed your books tighter to your chest, “I’m leaving. Right now. I’ve reached my maximum capacity for bullshit.”

Long fingers circled around your wrist before you could go too far. They were blistering against your cool skin, but a shiver shuddered through your arm all the way to your skull.

“Don’t go,” Stiles hummed softly, close enough to warm the shell of your ear. “I owe you one, remember?”

You braved a look at him through your lashes, and he was smiling at you again; this one was nervous. He had forgotten, it seemed, to let go of your wrist until now. Stiles sat back down on his bed, and you absently brushed your fingers over the lingering sensation of his fingertips.

“Right,” you looked around the room and chewed on your bottom lip, “so…what was that whole thing with Derek Hale?”

Stiles paused. You could feel him watching you, studying you like one of his puzzles. “He needed a ride.”

You set your books on his desk, and Stiles nodded towards the chair in front of him. You hesitated before sitting down, feeling a bit like you were giving up the battlefield high ground, “You’re like…friends, then?”

“Absolutely not.” If the emphatic denial wasn’t enough to convince you, the violent shake of his head was telling enough. “Kind of wish he was dead, actually. It would solve so many problems.”

“So you don’t actually know him that well,” you murmured, sinking into the chair with all your hopes and plans.

Stiles’s neck craned as he studied your face, “Why?” You just looked at him, keeping your face impassive, and his eyes went a little buggy. “I know he looks dreamy, but that would be nothing but a nightmare for everyone involved. Trust me.”

Your face twisted, lips curling around the unsavory taste in your mouth. “I don’t—what was wrong with him yesterday?”

Stiles didn’t look entirely convinced, but skepticism did look a lot like concern. “Stomach bug.”

You rolled your eyes. It would’ve made you laugh under any other circumstance, but you didn’t feel much like laughing now. You’d been a tick away from the edge ever since you realized that Lydia had been this close to being butchered by that thing.

Your fingers curled into tight fists, knuckles straining, “I’m not an idiot, okay. I know there’s something weird going on.” You looked up from your lap with sharp eyes, but if he looked a little closer, he’d see the desperation underneath, “And I know you know something about it.”

Stiles swallowed hard and twisted his fingers together, “I’m actually known for knowing nothing about anything. Ever.”

He flinched when you stood up abruptly. The chair rolled back into his desk and sent a few pencils to the floor. You glared at them, like they did it on purpose just to spite you, and your glower drifted towards the glint of citrine and garnet on the corner of his desk. “This.” You picked up the bestiary and tried to shake it in front of his face, but it was too heavy to do your frustration justice, “Why did you buy this?”

His eyes, miraculously, grew rounder, “I told you. D—”

“N’ D, I know, but I looked into it. This is real; it’s transcribed from a real Ancient Greek text.”

“...I like authenticity.” Stiles shrugged towards his fidgeting hands, “I take my craft seriously.”

Scoffing, you dropped the book on top of his bed, “So you’re saying you believe the whole mountain lion theory?”

“Well, obviously no—”

“Then what do you believe?” Your chest seethed with quick shallow breaths as you paced from one side of his room to the other, “Because I was looking through this genealogy line, and the Hales have been here before Beacon Hills was even Beacon Hills, and there’s a pattern of—hold on.”

You snatched Maggie’s journal off of his desk and flipped it open to the Hale family tree, bookmarked with the thick stack of county death reports you’d printed out. “Look, there’s a series of premature, violent deaths in their line directly after a series of animal attacks on the town, and then all of it just stopped a few generations before Derek’s mom became the head of the pa—”

You didn’t know when Stiles stood up, but he was in front of you now, stopping you in your tracks. He brushed his fingers through his short crop of hair and shook his head, “Hold on, okay. Take a breath—”

You didn’t hear him, not really. Truthfully, you didn’t even notice that he’d started talking. You shoved the pages closer to his face, and all your words rushed past your lips in one carved out breath, “And then it all started again after Laura Hale was killed, and she was found with wolf fibers on her body—”

Stiles’s brows flew towards his hairline, “How do you kno—”

“She became the head of the family after Talia died, right?” Your hair was as wild as your eyes after a series of urgent tugging, and you prayed to all the mythical gods in every game you’d ever played that you sounded saner than you looked. They might actually exist, after all. Who's to say that Selûne didn't exist in a world where werewolves did? “‘Cause she’s the oldest living, fully conscious relative, and then immediately after she's killed, the animal attacks start up again, like she was keeping something in-check.”

“Slow down.” Stiles gripped your shoulders. You were closer than either of you realized until you looked up and your noses were almost touching. He swallowed thickly and let go of you after a moment, taking a step back, “A couple of days ago you thought this was all bullshit.”

You chewed on your lip and your indecision, looking for something in his face. You didn’t know what, but you were pretty sure you found it when his mouth furrowed into a concerned frown. It was for you, you realized, not because of you. That was…a rarity in your life as of late. You didn’t hate it.

Sighing, you pulled your phone out of your jacket pocket and opened the video from Lydia’s phone. “A couple of days ago I hadn't seen this,” you mumbled, shoving the phone into his hand.

Stiles looked at you for a moment longer and then pressed play. His face was unreadable, save for the small flinch when the beast shattered the store window, and you hated it. “Where did you get this?” Stiles finally said quietly. His voice was low and infected with something dire.

You rifled through your papers, something to keep your hands busy and your eyes off of the dark look on Stiles’s face, “Someone sent it to Lydia—it was a blocked number, so don’t ask who.”

“Did she—”

“I deleted it before she could.”

Neither of you needed to say it; you both knew Lydia was clinging to sanity by the skin of her perfect teeth. She couldn’t see the proof that the monster under her bed was real. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

“Good.” Stiles rubbed a hand over his face, looking so much older than sixteen, and he flickered his gaze to your face, “You can’t show this to anyone. You know that, right?”

“Besides Scott,” you retorted dryly.

Stiles almost smiled. There was a ghost of one hiding in the corners of his mouth, but it faded before it could materialize. “Believe me, he really doesn’t need any more proof. Delete it.”

He sighed at your scowl and tried again, “Please delete it.”

You shook your head and grabbed your phone from his hands, “Not until you tell me what you know.”

“I don’t know anything.” Stiles held up his hands and took a careful step towards you, “Really. I know as much as you do.”

You stared at him. You weren't sure if you were a good judge of character. You’d like to think you were, but it wasn’t like you spent a lot of time around other people. Even before you got trapped in your head, you really only had one friend, and you used to think you’d be friends with her for the rest of your lives. Maybe longer.

You’d been wrong before. You didn’t want to be wrong again.

Stiles reached for your hand, and you let him lace your fingers together. “I know how you feel. It sucks, and it’s kind of exciting, but mostly freakin’ terrifying—and all you need to know is that it’s going to be okay. Okay?”

Your chin jerked in a rigid little nod. You softened slightly when he squeezed your hand. He wasn’t telling you everything; you were almost 100% certain of that, but you were also pretty sure he wasn’t lying. That was enough for you. For now.

“The file room,” you said quietly.

Stiles’s lips drew together into a little pucker, “What?”

“The evidence room with all the files,” you looked up at him, and the ember of hope was stoked in your eyes, “there’s probably more there.”

He bit down on his cheek, “I don’t know—”

You folded her arms over her chest, chin lifting in defiance, “You promised.”

Stiles sighed and ran his hand over his head. His smile was a little affectionate thing. He sighed and shook his head, “I promised.”

“Well, alright then.” Your shoulders relaxed, and you sat back down in his desk chair, “Middle of the night break-in, it’s a date.”

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d1onysusw1n3 · 2 months ago

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Dirty Grimes - rick grimes x reader

Tw: slight age gap (reader is 22 and rick is in his 40s) Cheating, P in V, slight bondage, rick is kind of rough. And a slight size kink. Plus squirting and creampie.

This is an AU where the apocalypse has never happened! Carl is a collage student who was a childhood friend. Lots of plot but I will give a warning on where the smut starts so if u want to skip the plot and head straight to the spice, do as u please!

“C’mon baby it’s not that bad, stop worrying about shit.” Carl huffs shaking his head in a annoyed way.

Look I love him to death Don’t get me wrong, but I dread coming over to his parents house over the holidays. My father ran out on my family when I was little, my mom was diabetic and she always had hospital bills up to her neck. So I was a bit of a problem child, until high school came and I worked my ass off for a full ride scholarship to Stanford. I’ve known Carl since middle school he always had a crush on me but I’d shoot him down and tell him when we get older we’d get married. Well I guess that wish came true.

I look down at the huge diamond on my finger. Me, Y/N summers, becoming a grimes? Who would’ve thought it. When I said yes it felt like the world stopped, but as time went on Carl got distant, stressed. He seemed easily annoyed by me. Plus that fact that I can’t help but to be scared of his father. Sherif grimes. He caught me vandalizing a classroom with spray paint once in middle school. He scared me shitless, but Carl stood up for me and helped my mom bail me out. Safe to say whenever I come over Rick always seems so, intense. The way he carries himself as if I’m a rabbit and he’s waiting to pounce on his prey. It scares me shitless, to be frank! And his marriage hasn’t been doing to good, last time I came over Lori and him wouldn’t talk or extange glances, no his eyes were too busy studying me, picking me apart as if he’s trying to read me like a book.

“Just calm down, you’re overreacting like usual.” Carl says as he brings the car to a stop, placing it in park. I scoff shaking my head at his antics.

“Overreacting? That’s what you want to tell your fucking fiancé before she tells her future in laws that she’s getting married to their son?” I scoff.

“I’m done arguing with you.” he sighs running a hand through his long hair. “It’s only arguing because you can’t have a normal conversation without acting like you hate me!” I scream frustration enveloping my body. “I should’ve never asked you to marry me then, my sincerest apologies.” He coldly says while walking out the car to the front door without me. I sit back contemplating what he just said. It broke my heart. I catch up to him wiping the tears that escaped my face, my eyes puffy and nose red, but I guess I can chalk it off as the allergies during spring break. He knocks and to my surprise Lori opens the door, yet I could see the clunky mascara and the bloodshot puffy eyes. She had been crying.

“Hiii! Oh my baby’s back” she smiles widely a genuine smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes like usual, and that glow that had once been her flame, has been burnt out into ash. It’s apparent on her hunched shoulders and the way she frowns when nobody looks.

“And look at you Y/N! All grown up and in collage.” She smiles and hugs me tightly. I always loved Lori, she was sweet to me, because she knew I grew up less fortunate than others.

“Hi lor how you doing?” I smile as I embrace her into a tight hug. I could feel her hiccup and take deep breaths.

“I’m living, at least I can be grateful for that.” She smiles tightly as she sees rick walk down the stairs to us.

“Hey, you wanna talk later?” I ask nudging her. She just nods and puts her fake smile back on as rick walks right past her and to Carl.

“Hey! My boys back.” He hugs Carl tightly while leaning back gripping his shoulders. “Man your old now! what’re you like fifty?” Rick teases as Carl rolls his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Tha’d make you what? About seventy?” Carl quipped back and rick holds his hand to his heart. “Touché.” Rick smirks as he looks over to me. Instead of his usual crossed arms and tough guy demeanor, he was cuddly today because he wrapped his arms around my waist pulling me in for a generous hug. “How’s my daughter in law huh!” He jokes.

“Doing just fine.” I smile lightly at him. Though in the inside my heart was crushed into a million pieces.

“Well common in dinners ready just in time!” Lori beams walking away, she turns around first motioning to the kicthen. “You wanna help me prepare food Y/N?” She says. I just nod giving Carl a look, he doesn’t even turn to me and ignored my presence, though rick noticed because he turned to me.

“Everything okay?” He asks.

“Peachy.” I reply glaring at Carl while turning and storming off to the kitchen.

As soon as i step in I see Lori breaking down sobbing while holding her mouth to quiet her crying.

“Hey what’s wrong?” I walk up rubbing her shoulder.

“I have been having an affair with ricks partner Shane and he found out about it.” She comes clean.

“And I’m-“ she purses her lips.

“I’m pregnant with his child.” She says sobbing as her shoulders shook.

“It wasn’t supposed to get this bad! I mean rick and I were on a break and it was one time that turned into more times then rick and I got back together and I told him no, but we still went at it anyways a-and I took a pregnancy test and Rick found it.” She spits out fast in her shaky voice.

“I’m so stupid.” She sighs.

“I agree with you on that. There’s so many different ways you could’ve handled this Lori, if you weren’t happy with Rick why didn’t you just tell him?” I frowned at her.

“What about Carl.” She gasps.

“You’re just gonna have to explain things to him, he’ll understand in time.” I say hugging her. We break off setting up the food in the table while calling the boys in to eat. The rest of the night went pretty smooth, everyone laughed a had a good time, well then there was rick, whenever I’d send a nasty look to Carl he’d tune in looking at me with those intense eyes.

“Alright I have something to announce!” I smile as fake as I could. “Carl asked to marry me.” I hold up my hand showing my ring. Out of the side of my vision I could see rick clench his jaw. But Lori gasped while clapping in excitement.

“Oh my baby’s all grown up!” She starts tearing up.

“I’m so happy for you son.” Ricks rasps. Though he looked furious. Cark just tightly smiles wrapping an arm around my waist.

As night fell me and Carl crashed in his childhood room. His walls were filled with comics and superhero’s. I change into my sleep clothes which were some panties and one of carls shirts, I didn’t bother putting on pants, it was way to hot in the summer time. Carl was dead asleep snoring an all, I had a hot flash and was sweating balls. I sigh getting up to walk downstairs and drink a cold glass of water. as I reach the cabinet in the kicthen I stand on my tippy toes trying to reach the last glass on the tallest shelf. I felt a warm calloused hand grip my waist pushing himself against my rear. I could tell it was rick, by his bulky hands and his white tee that was scented of pine and whisky. A man’s scent. Usually it would ick me out, overly manly men, but something about rick made my thighs clench and my tummy flip. I shake my head trying to ban these criminal thoughts of my fiancés father. I call his wife mom so gods sake, pull it together Y/N.

“I saw you strugllin, thought you might need some help.” His raspy voice sounded as sexy as usual, with his thick southern accent.

“Thank you Rick.”

“No problem, sweetheart.” He smirks down at me. He had me slightly caged to the counter, with my ass pressed right against his crotch. I could feel his cold belt buckle pressed tightly to my tramp stamp I got when I was 17. Apparently my shirt rode up my waist when I was struggling to reach for a cup, cause I could feel the cold ac on my bare back. I slightly moved away pulling down my shirt while walking to the fridge grabbing ice and water. I sit down on the island in the kitchen as rick pours himself a glass of whisky while leaning on the counter across from me.

“Couldn’t sleep?” He gruffly says handing me the shot of whisky he poured. I gingerly take it from his hand as my fingers brush his, it sent goosebumps down my spine.

“It was too hot upstairs, I needed some air.” I say with a tight lipped grin. I shot back the whisky quickly sliding the glass back to him, he fills up the whisky glass again but this time he take it down with no struggle, licking the corner of his mouth as some dripped down his chin. I could feel myself clench around nothing. That had to be the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed.

“Lori told you bout Shane, huh?” He chuckles shaking his head. I could see the tears brim his eyes. I couldn’t help but to feel bad for the man. His wife is pregnant by the man he called his brother.

“Yeah.” My throat suddenly felt dry.

“I’m sorry Rick.” I say chewing the bottom of my lip.

“Don’t be sweetheart, iss alright.” He huffs.

“We were arguing before that as it is anyway, it was bound to happen.” He shakes his head. While he looks down he nods over to your ring.

“So engaged huh? Carl better be treatin you well.” He swallows thickly as his intense blue eyes scan over my body. I felt like a peace of meat.

“He treats me just fine.” I clear my throat.

“Does he though?” Rick quips back. My jaw slacks in shock, not knowing what to say.

“I say you arguing in the car from the window. Seemed like whatever he said hurt?” He presses on.

“He said he wished he never asked to marry me.” I swallow thickly and slightly chuckle as tears run down my cheeks.

“Maybe I’m sensitive, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt like hell.” My wobbly lips smile at him. I look down as tears run down my cheeks. Rick slowly stalks towards me, running his calloused thumb across my cheek collecting my tears.

“What a shame. If you were mine, I would treat you better sweetheart.” He whispers.

At first I couldn’t believe his words. If I were his?

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!SMUT STARTS NEOOOW >-<!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“What do you mean rick?” I whisper back. I could feel the tension between us, so thick it was hard to breathe.

“What I said sweetheart. I could treat you better.” He slowly trails his hands up my thighs in a soothing back and fourth motion.

“Tell me to stop and I will.” He whispers trailing his hands up my shirt gripping my breasts firmly as his thumb nudges the bud of my breasts massaging them slowly.

I gasp leaning into his touch while rubbing my thighs together for friction. It’s been awhile since Carl had touched me. I was horny and deprived.

“Y/N tell me to stop, and that this is wrong.” He groans out as he feels my legs wrap around his hips bringing his crotch right down into mine. I moan slightly tilting my head back.

“Can’t, feel s’to good.” My words slurr as I could feel pleasure running up and down my spine in waves. Rick bends down trailing hot sloppy kisses down my neck into my collar bones, sucking at the sensitive spot making me grind down onto him. He growls gripping my hips pulling me back down onto him. I could feel him grinding himself down into me. His chest heaves in needy breaths. I couldn’t help but to whine, it felt so wrong dry humping my fiancés father in his childhood kitchen, but it felt so good at the same time.

“Need you rick.” I moan out.

“Please.” I frown at him showing off my best puppy eyes. I could feel his dick pulse against me.

“Don look at me like that, sweetheart.” He warns. I quickly slide off of the counter dropping to my knees. I trail my hands up ricks black jeans to his thighs and then to his belt. He doesn’t stop me, he just leans against the counter as i tug his jeans and underwear down to his ankles. His dick springs up close to my face. I could see the intricate veins and precum leaking off his pink puffy tip. I slowly get closer placing a peck on the top of his cock. He grunts as his abs contract in pleasure. I slowly take his tip in my mouth hollowing out while flipping my tongue on the base of his cock flattening it out. He groans deeply sucking in a sharp breath. I swallow more of him down my throat with ease. He moans leaning foreword on the counter I was leaned up against, I could feel his hips thrusting in my mouth. I set my hands to the side as he starts thrusting rougher. His small moans and gasps escaping his throat as I could feel him close to his edge. He quickly pulls out lifting my little body up with ease slamming me on top of the counter.

“Such a good girl huh?” He huffs. “If Carl won’t take care of my baby than I will.” He rips my panties off shoving them in his pocket. Getting down on his knees he kisses my cunt and flattening his tongue on my entrance slowly bringing it up to my clit. He begins to ravage my cunt in fast and needy licks and nibbles. It was so hard for me to be quiet as this was probably the hottest sex I’ve ever had. I felt my legs shake on his shoulders and my arms start to wiggle and give out. Rick stands up wiping off his lips that once were sucking needy at my cunt.

“Lay down baby, don’t worry, I’ll take care of you” his raspy voice soothes my nerves as he lines his tip up to my cunt. He pushes in and I almost came from the sheer thickness of his cock. The way it fills me up and stretches my cunt had me salivating. I couldn’t feel a condom though. And my heart skipped a beat.

“Rick what’re doing-“

“Shhh,” he shushes me and it drowns out all my worries. “Gotta fill my princess up? Yeah.” He starts thrusting slowly but roughly into my wet cunt. I clench down on his cock from his filthy words. “Gonna pump you full of cum” he huffs thrusting faster. My tits bounce roughly due to his thrusts. I arch my back covering my mouth to contain the erotic moans flying out. Rick rips my arms off my mouth holding them down on my stomach. “Don’t hold ur moans in.” He huffs. “Let them hear how good I make you feel.” He growls somehow speeding up fucking me into oblivion as I could feel his dick curve up and hit my G spot with every thrust. I couldn’t hold in my moans anymore and I’m pretty sure the next door neighbors heard me. “That’s my good girl, let them know your my slut.” He whimpers as my cunt clench’s tight around his cock. “You like that huh?” His raspy voice chuckles. “Knowing you’re my slut, how I’m filling you up better than he does mmmh.” My lips quiver and I feel my legs shaking. “R-rick I’m about to cum.” I complain trying to push him off. He doesn’t slow down a bit as he brings up an arm rubbing my clit furiously as he snaps his hips down onto mine. “Cmon baby it’s okay, cum for me.” I felt the buildup finally crash down in hot electric waves. My eyes roll to the back of my head as rick relentlessly pounds my cunt not faltering a second as my orgasm hits. I felt liquid spray all over him, he moans as if that was his breaking point snapping his hips one time deep into my cunt spraying my walls white with his thick cum.

“Fuck, you take my cock so good.” He growls pushing deeper into me, filling up my cunt full. He stands there inside of me as we breathe heavily. I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that I just raw dogged my fiancés father in his kitchen. Rick pulls out staring at the cum dripping down my cunt.

“Rick,thank god I’m on the pill, or else we’d be fucked” I sigh trying to slide off the counter. He pushes me back grabbing napkins while cleaning up his mess.

“Lemmie,” he says while tenderly taking care of me. He picks me up carrying my shaky legs to carls room.

“I’m sorry it got carried away, sweetheart.” He mumbled kissing my forehead. He slowly backs up staring into my eyes intensely while walking away.

After that day I didn’t mind going over to carls over the holidays, in fact, I couldn’t wait till thanksgiving hit, even Christmas.

#rick grimes smut #rick grimes #carl grimes smut #carl grimes #the walking dead #walking dead #michone grimes #lori grimes

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ichorai · 1 year ago

Text

hell, yeah ; roman roy ; part one (m).

track ten of BROKEN MACHINE.

pairing ; roman roy x f!reader

synopsis ; pain was an old friend for the both of you.

words ; 16.2k

themes ; fluff, angst, drama, slowburn, suggestive, childhood friends to lovers

warnings / includes ; drugs, alcohol, depictions of abuse, mentions of death, hospitals, a lot of sexual jokes and general foul language, reader accidentally walks in on roman jacking off, reader is logan's goddaughter, a lot of business talk, roman being an asshole

series masterlist. main masterlist.

Pain was an old friend of Roman’s. A friend of shadows and light, a simultaneous whisper and scream, a slap and a smile. It followed him throughout his childhood, where his father had beaten him with his leather belt for spilling a cup of orange juice all over an expensive carpet. It followed him throughout his teenage years, when his mother admitted to him that she never quite loved him. It followed him into adulthood, seeping into every porous crack of his being as he so desperately tried to wrangle it away. The pain was a friend, but it still stung no matter how much of a familiar presence it was.

There were very few constants in Roman’s life—there were his siblings, who were far too erratic to be considered constants. There were his parents, both of which were neglectful and abusive in their own ways. There was the pain, sure…

And there was you.

You were his father’s godchild, having been a close family friend of the Roys for as long as Roman could remember. In every one of his blotted, hazy memories of his past, he could faintly recall you always being there, a beacon of light within the desolate seas of his adolescence. Roman didn’t like admitting it, but you were the closest thing he had to an actual friend. How you’d witnessed dozens upon dozens of his beatings, and in turn, never laid a cruel hand on him. How you’d offer him sweet smiles and comforting words—words that he pretended not to listen to, but he did. He always listened.

One of Roman’s earliest memories with you was when he was seven and you were six. He had pulled his mouth open excitedly, leaning forward to show you the gap between the bottom row of his teeth.

“You lost a tooth?” you had asked, voice lilting with jealousy. He’d lost far more teeth than you.

“Yup.” He didn’t want to tell you that he’d lost this one because his father had backhanded him over his jaw.

“Can I see it?” you asked, childish curiosity dancing over your irises. He held out the small tooth in the palm of his hand, watching the way your expression melded into one of excitement.

“If I put it under my pillow, I’ll get a quarter,” bragged Roman. He knew he wouldn’t—there was never any money under his pillow when he’d lost teeth in the past. Maybe the tooth fairy didn’t care about him enough, just like his mom and dad.

Your eyes widened. “I want a quarter.”

“Lose your own tooth, then.”

You smiled, roguish and wide. “Or I could just take yours.”

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon gleefully chasing each other in the large, manicured yard, until you were both damp with sweat and your chests rose and fell in haggard, breathless motions. The tooth was long lost, abandoned somewhere in the grass, but the two of you had somehow completely forgotten about it, anyway. When the pair of you came slinking back inside, tracking mud and dirt onto the pristine floors, Logan yelled at his youngest son until he burst into a fit of hiccuping tears—but Roman tried not to think about that part as much.

Another one of Roman’s prominent memories was during a New Years party. He was fifteen, picking at his nails in a bored fashion, sipping on a drink that most definitely had alcohol in it, but nobody cared enough to stop him. Dozens of faceless people strode by, laughing and dancing the night away. It was only minutes before midnight when you approached him, a flustered wave of heat sewn over your cheeks. The two of you were practically attached to the hip, so it wasn’t at all a surprise to Roman that you’d come seeking him out.

“Hey, Romeo,” you said, offering him a gentle smile. The affectionate nickname was one that only you called him—one that Roman often pretended to gag at but really, he couldn’t get enough of hearing you call him that.

“Hey, fuck-face,” he responded, earning him an amused wrinkle of your nose. You were so pretty then, beneath all those dewy chandelier lights. “So, are you, uh, planning on kissing any of these corporate cocksuckers tonight?”

You exaggerated giving his question a long, hard think, sweeping your gaze over the mingling crowd. “Well, my options are between an old white man… and oh, look at that—another old white man. I’ll give it a pass.”

A snort fell from his lips. “Yeah, well, there’s me. I may be a pasty white, but I’m not old. I don’t look a day over forty.”

It was your turn to laugh, though it was more of a scoff than anything. He took another sip of his drink, before grimacing and setting it down by the edge of the table.

When the clock struck midnight, you leaned over to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, but for reasons unbeknownst to him, he turned his head at the very last second so that your lips fell against his. You pulled away quickly, eyes wide. Roman could feel his heart sinking down to his stomach—oh, he fucked up. He fucked up bad. He wanted nothing more than the ground to open and swallow him whole.

Though Roman had expected you to crack a joke about how gross he was, you did nearly the exact opposite. You smiled, tilting your head to the side.

“Happy New Year, Ro,” you whispered.

The two of you never spoke of the kiss again.

As the years flickered by, you and Roman were near inseparable, especially once you landed a top manager position at Waystar thanks to your godfather, Logan.

It was his eightieth birthday, and you along with the rest of the Roy family gathered at his lavish house to surprise him. He seemed none too pleased at the sight of a dozen people crowding the entrance to the elevator, but he went on to hug his kids nonetheless.

Then his gaze swung to you, and you suddenly felt like an eight year old again, cowering beneath his scornful gaze with bated breath. Unlike Roman, Logan never laid a hand on you—though you weren’t exempted from his sharp insults and ridicule.

“Hi, Uncle Logan,” you said, trying your best to smile in a way that didn’t seem unnaturally forced.

Eyes brightening, Logan wound an arm around you, catching you off guard. “Y/N, my dear, it’s been so long! You look beautiful.”

“Ah, thanks—thank you. You look great, as well.”

You glanced at Roman, who gave you a thumbs up and mouthed, cocksucker.

Once Logan pulled away to go greet Connor, you jabbed your elbow into Rome’s side, who snickered under his breath.

Soon after, Logan herded all his children off to another room, leaving you to greet Rava and her two kids with a kind beam. When Roman came slinking out of the room a few minutes later, he made a bee-line for you, a wiry smile on his face.

“What happened?” you asked, placing a hand on your longtime friend’s forearm. “What’s going on?”

“Dad fucked Kendall. He’s staying on as CEO.” Roman burst into a fit of giggles.

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s—that’s not funny, Ro. Why would he stay on?”

“I don’t know, because Kendall is a limpdick with bad ideas?”

Before you could respond, Logan burst into the room, shouting, “LUNCH!”

It didn’t go past your notice when Roman tensed beneath your touch. You squeezed his arm reassuringly, before gently nudging him into the dining room to be seated by a motherhenning Marcia.

The hospital was a cold and foreboding place. Logan had collapsed in the helicopter on the way back from the softball field, and never before had you seen Roman look so terrified.

In the waiting room, Rome paced back and forth along the seats, his large coat suddenly looking twice its size and his knuckles digging into his squeezed-shut eyes as if he were a kid all over again.

You took his hand, gentle and slow, lacing your fingers with his. There was a pause when Roman gave you a sidelong glance, the air stilling between you.

“It’ll be fine,” you whispered, voice warbling. It was clear to the both of you that you didn’t quite believe in your own words. But he leaned into your lies nonetheless, like a fly driven to honey. “Ro, it’ll be okay. It’s Logan—he’s… he’ll fight through.”

The man sucked in a breath. Instead of replying, he pulled his hand away from yours and continued his pacing.

Hours later, you were curled up on a seat, eyes drooping with exhaustion. Rome sat on the floor in front of you, the back of his head resting against your knee. You knew he was stressed, wanting to sign off the papers as per Logan's wishes, whilst Shiv and Kendall were starkly against the idea.

“He’s not gonna die,” Roman mumbled when Shiv began yelling at Kendall for discussing who would take over the business while Logan was unconscious in the other room. Then, he turned to look up at you, desperate to hear you backing him. “Right? He’s not gonna die.”

“He won’t,” you told him, brushing away a stray strand of his hair from his face. “It’ll be okay.”

Shiv’s tired eyes darted back and forth between the two of you as she huffed out a sigh. A large part of her had always felt jealous of your relationship with Roman—how you weren’t even dating her brother and yet you seemed closer to him than she would ever be with Tom.

When the doctors told the family that Logan had a hemorrhagic stroke and it wouldn’t be wise to operate, they moved him to a much larger and fancier room to keep a close eye on him. It wasn’t long before Kendall, Shiv, and Rome broke out into another large fight over who would take the company. To your surprise, Roman had even offered up himself, which was quickly shot down by Kendall.

“He was fucking playing you to get you to sign the change of trust! Do you even know what it fucking involves?”

Roman reared back, both of his hands resting on his hips. “Are you calling me a dipshit?”

“No. I love you, man, but you’re not a serious person.”

Clearly upset, Roman strode away from Kendall, making his way to you and curling up by your side, his arm thrown over your shoulders. “Fuck you, Kendall. He’s alive, and you’re not the fuckin’ boss.”

A headache began to pound at the forefront of your head. “Guys, can we please not do this right now? Please? Can’t this wait until morning, at the very least?”

A frown graced Kendall’s weary countenance. “You’re not even a part of this, Y/N—”

Roman’s grip on your shoulders tightened. “Hey, don’t you talk to—”

“Stop!” Shiv barked out. “Let’s not throw shit around. We’re right in the middle here—we just sit tight for now. No sudden moves.”

“Well, we need to move! The markets are going to want to know who’s behind the wheel. We need to control the narrative.”

Rolling his eyes, Roman scoffed, “‘Control the narrative.’ You probably yell that when you cum.” Obnoxiously, he stood up and rounded the couch just behind you, pretending to thrust into it while moaning out control the narrative!

“Ro, stop,” you gently reprimanded, which made him straighten up with a sharp clear of his throat.

“Fuck you,” Kendall hissed. “We’re in a goddamn hospital. People know. We have to say something!”

“No, actually, we don’t!” retaliated Shiv. “Nobody knows how serious it is, so we don’t have to say anything.”

The siblings burst into another round of arguments, and you finally got up onto your feet, effectively silencing them.

“I’m just gonna—I’m gonna go home,” you said, voice quiet. It filled you with hot shame when tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You were overwhelmed, tired, sick of all the fighting, and worried for your godfather. “Can one of you please just… let me know if he’s okay?”

“Oh, yeah, uhm… alright, uh, sorry if we…” Roman made an incoherent gesture before roping you into a one-armed hug. You kissed his cheek, before turning to do the same to Shiv and Kendall. As much as they all frustrated you, they were practically your family—the people you grew up side by side with.

The three siblings watched as you gingerly shuffled up to Logan on the hospital bed. He was breathing funny—tubes up his nose, chest rising and falling shallowly. Your bottom lip trembled as you fought to keep the tears at bay. Sniffling, you leaned down to kiss your godfather’s forehead, before straightening yourself and walking back.

As you made your way out of the hospital room, you could hear footsteps shuffling after you. You turned, eyes softening upon seeing Rome leaning against the wall, acting as if he hadn’t been following you.

“You okay, Rome?”

“Yeah, I’m just—seeing you off. I don’t know. Can’t trust hospital hallways these days.” There was a melancholic look to his face. A plea for you to stay was on the tip of his tongue—how was he supposed to go about pretending like everything was fine without you there to back him?

With a gentle sigh, you leaned forward to press your nose against Roman’s cheek, forehead resting against the side of his head. “I’ll see you soon, Ro. I just need to be alone for a bit. Is that okay?”

He swallowed uneasily. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s—fuck. That’s okay.”

You gave him a smile, one that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “That’s a good boy,” you teasingly said in an effort to make him laugh.

Rome stepped away from you, scratching the back of his head and chuckling nervously. “Hah, yeah, fuck off. Bye, dickhead.”

“Bye, Romeo,” you replied with a certain kind of tragic fondness, and he turned to stiffly walk back into the hospital room.

After several nights of limited, restless sleep, you found yourself back in your office, leaning back in your chair tiredly. Hundreds of emails flooded your computer screen—a large portion of them asking about the wellbeing of your godfather. It made you angry—almost irrationally so. You didn’t know. You didn’t fucking know a single thing. The constant reminders that you didn’t know anything about Logan’s fate weren’t helping one bit.

The glass door to your office was pushed open by none other than Roman, the new COO, sporting a tired grin.

“God, my back is fucked from this new trainer I have,” he announced, groaning as he sank into one of the pristine seats in your office.

“You have a new trainer?” you asked, grateful to take your attention away from all those damn emails.

He scratched at the back of his head. “Yeah—I don’t know. Just trying it out. Whatever.”

“Shame, we could’ve worked out together,” you absent-mindedly responded, getting up from your desk chair to sit next to him, burying your face in your palms. “I could use the distraction.”

Because you weren’t looking at him, you missed the way Roman’s features softened for you, his hand patting your back.

“I saw dad a while back,” he said, voice suddenly small. “He got like… tubes and shit up his nose and—” The words caught in his throat.

You leaned your head against his shoulder, shutting your eyes for just a second.

“I think I’m…”

“Scared?” you tried to finish for him when he trailed off.

There was a long pause before Roman cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“It’s okay to be scared, Ro,” you said, lifting your head to meet his gaze and offering him a kind smile. “I’m here for you.”

Abruptly, Roman pulled away from you, standing up despite his stiff back. “Ugh, fuck. Don’t—don’t make those eyes at me.”

Brows kinking, you crossed your arms. “What eyes?”

“Those fuckin’... seductive eyes—I don’t know!” he glared at you before waving the matter away entirely. “Whatever, I just—”

“Ro,” you interrupted, voice still kind despite him lashing out. “I understand you're stressed out, but don’t make things weird between us because you’re so out of touch with your emotions.”

His voice raised an entire octave as he protested, “I’m not stressed. I’m fuckin’ peachy. Peachiest fuckin’ peach that’s ever peached. Look at me!”

“I’m looking,” you said, unimpressed.

With a frown, he made his way to the door. “You know what, fuck off. I came here to take a nap but I guess I’ll go find a breakroom or something.”

You narrowed your eyes, knowing damn well that he had his own lavish office to lounge in and he was just trying to make you feel bad for him.

“I’ll come by later, Ro,” you told him. “We could get lunch?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever, fuck-face.” His words were harsh as ever but you could see right through his facade—he just needed someone to be there for him.

He disappeared out the door, and you blew out a long sigh. Two hours flew by, and you managed to answer all your emails and organize some files, constantly interrupted by people coming in asking for you to sign contracts you barely cared enough about to read.

When your lunch break finally rolled around, you were quick to dash out of your office, eager to get away from work for a bit. The atmosphere around the building was so different now—what with Logan temporarily gone and Kendall as acting CEO, Roman as COO.

You made your way to Roman’s office, eyebrows raising upon seeing that all the blinds were shut. Well, he had mentioned taking a nap. With pursed lips, you quietly pushed the glass door open, ducking past the beige-hued blinds.

Immediately, a breathy whine hit your ears accompanied by the unmistakable sound of—

Your eyes widened upon seeing Roman facing the window, both hands down his pants.

“Oh, my god—oh, fuck—” you began, hurriedly backing up against the wall and throwing a hand over your eyes. Startled at the sudden noise, Roman turned his head over to see you blindly grappling for the door, trying your best to duck past the blinds. Before he could say anything, you were blurting out an apology, rotating on your heel to quickly throw yourself out of his office.

Fuck, Roman thought. His dick was even harder than it was before. Aroused shame curled within his stomach when he resumed touching himself, this time your shocked features imprinted into his thoughts. His forehead fell against the window when he came, a string of obscenities falling from his lips, and your name tumbling out with them.

Lunch with Roman didn’t happen—you were far too embarrassed to answer any of his texts (he had spammed you nearly twenty separate messages by now). By the time dinner came around, you were just getting ready to go home when you heard a voice say, “Knockity knock knock.”

Roman came into your office without knocking.

“You’ve been ignoring me,” he plainly stated.

“I’m just busy,” you said, refusing to meet his gaze, cheeks burning.

The man across from you tilted his head. “Look, about what you saw, back there—”

“I didn’t see anything,” you quickly said.

“Okay, well, you want me to explain it to you? I had my hand down my—”

Hurriedly, you shook your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t even go to your office today.”

Roman narrowed his eyes, before smiling in a mischievous manner, patting your flushed cheek twice. “Look at you, you little liar! Come on—let’s go get dinner. My treat.”

Begrudgingly, you followed after Roman, allowing him to pull you into a car, and then into a fancy restaurant you couldn’t even pronounce the name of, and hoard you into your seat. It was nice spending time with him—even though you’d walked in on him jacking off in his office earlier, he was still your best friend nonetheless. Besides, it wasn’t often the two of you hung out together outside of work.

“So—charity gala next week. You got a date yet?” he asked, forking pasta into his mouth.

“No—”

“Easy. You go with me,” said Rome.

A frown crossed your face. “You could at least ask.”

“Why should I, when I know you’re going to say yes?”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Yeah, love you, too, schnookums,” he teased. “Eat your fuckin’ pasta before it gets cold. One noodle strand here costs, like, a hundred bucks.”

“You need to tell dad to back the fuck off,” Roman announced as he stomped into Kendall’s office, startling his older brother. “You know he rehired Frank to babysit me? I don’t need a babysitter, okay? Especially one I don’t get to fuck. I already have Y/N for that.”

Flabbergasted at the sudden barrage of information, Kendall pushed back from his desk. “Really? Frank is back?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re CEO. Can dad even do that?”

“I don’t… it’s, uh, it’s a question.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, have a talk with him and tell him to butt out because we are running the show now. Go back to bed and, I don’t know, fuckin’ eat some soup. Get some rest. Old man shit.”

The older of the two stood up, holding his hands out in a placating manner. “Hey, relax, alright? The, uh, you know… the dinosaur is having one last roar at the meteor before it wipes him out. But look—you’re doing a great job.”

Roman dipped forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his brother’s forehead. “Thank you. Thanks, man, really. Urgh—it’s actually so fuckin’ good to hear. It’s a big job.”

“I know.”

“Well, do you want some help? We can tag-team it on Dad’s speech at Sad Sack Wasp Trap.”

There was a pause. “Uhm, yeah, I guess. I mean, it is a CEO thing, so, like, I have a whole thing prepared… with jokes and stuff—”

“You’re doing jokes?” Roman snickered.

“Why does everyone keep saying that? I’m funny.”

Giggling, Roman sarcastically bit out, “Yup! Of course you are, big bro. I’m sure you’re gonna kill it out there. Who you taking?”

Kendall’s face twisted with discomfort. “Uh, no one… Rava’s busy.”

“Doesn’t wanna go with you. Got it.”

Kendall didn’t have the heart to glare at Roman. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll roll solo.”

“How’s that gonna look? CEO can’t even get an ugly sister to go to the ball? You’ll be laughed at.”

There was a pause before Kendall offered, “You know who I’d like to take? Anna Newman—blonde chick from ATN.”

Roman took a second to think about who that was before saying, “Oh, shit, yeah. No, yeah, I’d fuck that in a minute. Take her!”

“It’s not cool. I’m her boss.”

“Oh, come on. What a pathetic beta-cuck!”

“Jesus, Roman, you’re a walking fucking lawsuit.”

“No—I’m just honest. I’m like, ‘Hey, you have a nice face, I wanna fuck your face, can I cum on your face?’ Which is exactly why my face is drowning in pussy and you don’t even fuck your wife.” After a second, Roman realized he probably stepped a bit too far. “Eesh, yikes. Too far. Sorry. Them’s the facts, though.”

Huffing out a sigh, Kendall asked, “Okay, then, who are you taking if you’re always drowning in pussy?”

“Well, I’m taking Y/N, even though I’m technically her boss.”

Shaking his head, Kendall sighed. “You’re taking Y/N? Are you guys finally dating or something, then?”

“Dating? Fuck, no.” Roman blew out a breath. “Hold on—what do you mean finally?”

Kendall’s lips slanted to the side. “I don’t know. We always just thought you two… you know…”

The memory of you accidentally walking in on him jerking off flashed across his mind. Roman clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Nope. Nuh-uh. Nothing there. Y/N and I are… pals who want to fuck each other but never have, never will. Because we love each other too much.”

Because he was scared of you becoming something he could truly lose.

“You wanna fuck Y/N?” Kendall’s brows inched closer to his hairline with the question.

Roman pursed his lips. “I didn’t say that. What? Fuck you.”

“You just—”

Already, Roman was on his feet, swinging out of Kendall’s office with an elongated bye!

Camera lights, flashing everywhere. Bright and blinding, leaving faint memories of colors in their wake dancing over your irises. Roman’s hand was curled over your waist as the two of you smiled wide for the paparazzi. You had coordinated your outfits—him in a regular black tux that you went out of your way to call boring, and you in a silken black dress with a plunging neckline that he went out of his way to call slutty. The two of you laughed about it regardless.

You were well aware of the headlines you’d make. Childhood Friends Reunited! Logan Roy’s Goddaughter With Youngest Roy Son: Star-Crossed Lovers.

It happened nearly every time you were seen out in public with Roman. And now that this was a large charity event, you only expected the headlines to double in number and grow more ludicrous in nature. Especially when Roman was not one to hold back, always cracking crude jokes.

Once the two of you made your way into the event hall, away from the snapping cameras, Rome leaned close to your ear to whisper, “Can I just say, you look fan-fucking-tabulous right now. Whew, I could just bend you over and—”

“God, Ro, have some decorum,” you replied lightly. “And don’t promise me things you won’t hold up to.”

He smiled, his lips faintly brushing the golden earrings you were wearing, before pulling away.

“I gotta go talk to Dad,” he whispered, patting your hip as he slid away from you. You gave him a nod and a smile before making your way to your designated table, brushing past a frantic Connor who was murmuring under his breath about how the butter was fucked.

And as you took your seat, a handsome waiter with pretty eyes and dark curls came to your table, pouring you a drink with a smile.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

“No problem,” he replied. With a charming twinkle in his eye, the waiter asked, “So, did your date leave you here all alone or did you come here by yourself?”

“He’s off doing… business. As he often does. He’s a friend.”

“A friend, huh?” the waiter echoed. It didn’t go past your notice when his brown irises darted down to glance at your form, the slopes of your curves accentuated just perfectly by the dark dress.

It was only then that Roman came skipping back, head cocked and brows raised at the unfamiliar face.

“Hi,” he greeted, placing a firm hand on your back.

When the waiter, looking awfully embarrassed, began to scuttle away, Roman only held his hand out to stop him, tutting as if he were scolding a petulant child. “Mmh. Fill my glass for me.”

It was a power play—an obvious one. You glared at Roman, but watched silently as the waiter you didn’t even know the name of poured your date some rich wine.

“Thaaank you,” he quipped, drawing out the first word obnoxiously long.

Just as the waiter turned to walk away, Roman stopped him once again. “Ah, ah, ah. You stick around, bud.” At your dismayed countenance, he quirked a brow. “What? Was I interrupting something? If you like my date so much, why don’t you just ask for her fuckin’ number?”

You blew out a sigh. “Rome—”

“No, I mean, you clearly want to, right?” Roman placed a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N, you wanna give this guy your number?”

Almost out of spite, you nodded your head. “Yeah, I’d love to give him my number.”

You locked eyes with Roman, watching the way his expression seemed to shift and harden. He was enjoying every bit of this.

Finally, he tore his gaze away from you, looking back at the waiter. “Why don’t you ask for her number then?”

There was a long pause. Hesitant, the waiter asked, “Can I get your number?”

A wheeze of a laugh escaped Roman’s lungs when you asked for a pen, quick to jot down your number on a tissue.

“That’s actually her number. Wowie. Y/N’s getting lucky tonight, huh?” You couldn’t quite tell if the lilting tone in Roman’s voice was mirth or jealousy. Maybe both.

“Just don’t blow your nose with this, alright?” you told the waiter with a sweet smile, handing it over to him.

When the waiter turned to leave, Roman called out after him, “Fetch another bottle for us, will you?”

Once he was finally gone, Roman sat down in the velvet seat next to you, grinning like a maniac.

“I’d slap you if we weren’t at a charity event, Ro.”

“Oh, don’t talk to me like that. You’ll get my dick hard.”

“You were being rude.”

“I’m sorry, and who was the one flirting with other people when you already have a date for the night?”

You sent him a sharp, heated look. “You’re my friend, Roman. What does it matter to you if I flirt with someone else?”

The man beside you pretended to give it a long, hard think. “You know when a dog gets really attached to a chew toy? And another dog comes and tries to take it?”

“Oh, you did not just compare me to a chew toy, Ro, I’ll fucking—”

Before you could finish your sentence, you were abruptly cut off when music started playing on stage, and performers in bright orange fabrics began carrying out an intricate dance. You wrapped your hand around Roman’s tie, yanking him close and snarling into his ear, “We’re continuing this conversation later.”

You let him go just as quickly as you grabbed him, leaving Roman disoriented, giddy, and mildly aroused.

Not long after the performance, Logan came hobbling up for his speech. He congratulated Shiv and Tom for their engagements, and drawled on about his pride for his children. Roman seemed to fidget uncomfortably at his words. And for the last announcement, Logan proclaimed that he was officially back in Waystar.

You and Rome glanced at each other rather incredulously.

By the time the party was coming to a close, Kendall was being blown off by his blonde date—Anna something—and Roman had come to console his brother on his loss.

“This is our charity. How much is a plate? You gotta get a blowjob at the very least,” he scoffed. “Right, Y/N?”

With a scowl, you rolled your eyes. “She doesn’t owe you jackshit. And I’m not giving you a blowjob, you asshole. Not after that stunt you pulled back there.”

“Oh, so you would’ve given me a blowjob if I didn’t nudge that waiter’s cock right into your vagina?”

Pulling a sour face, you crossed your arms over your chest. “God, Roman, you’re disgusting.”

It seemed both of you were too caught up in your argument that neither of you noticed when Kendall slipped away, too glum to try to break you two apart.

On the ride back home, Roman had suggestively broached the idea of coming up into your penthouse with you, but you were quick to shut him down. He’d come over to your place a million times before but… tonight felt different. You didn’t think it was right to let him in tonight.

“Good night, Romeo,” you told him, kissing his cheek lightly. “I’m still mad at you, by the way.”

“Good. I like you mad.” The brown of his eyes sparkled with his admission. You had half a mind to carve them out with a hot spoon. The other half yearned to kiss them.

You did neither.

You shook your head before slipping out of the car, watching as the driver pulled away from the curb and disappeared behind a row of tall buildings.

Logan always had you over for Thanksgiving. Your parents often traveled abroad for the holidays and you were far too busy to join them on their expeditions that usually lasted no fewer than two weeks. And thus, you always spent Thanksgiving and Christmas with the Roys ever since childhood.

The holidays in your past were filled with fond memories from when you and Roman were small children playing out in the snow until your limbs began to freeze, stuffing dark charcoal down Kendall’s stockings, and exchanging silly, obnoxious gifts that had no real practical use to either of you. Of course, the laughter and the snow waned away after the years, turning more into promiscuous jokes and warming up by the fireplace together as the time drew on by. Nevertheless, the two of you were always together for the holidays.

Dinner was a large and lavish feast, consisting platters of fresh bread and butter, creamy mashed potatoes, juicy turkey meat, and so much more. Roman was stealing just about everything from your plate despite all the food laid out right in front of him.

Once the meals were polished off, Logan had taken to showing off the war medals he had bought (not earned), but it was quick to dissolve into a fight with his estranged brother, Ewan, that brought back memories you’d really rather not think about anymore. It quickly ended with Ewan cursing the family out and storming out of the room and into the elevator to take his leave.

“This whole family is a nest of vipers,” he had said to his grandson, Greg. “They’ll wrap themselves around you and suffocate you.”

Though you doubted Ewan even knew who you were, his words resounded with you more than you were comfortable to admit. This family was poison—you knew it well by now.

To ease the tension, Marcia herded everyone back into the dining room for dessert. It was a creamy pumpkin pie, with deliciously buttery crust and airy whipped cream sitting right on top of the thick filling. Roman had swiped off most of the whipped cream from your pie with his finger, licking it away before you even had a chance to protest.

“Fuck you,” you gruffed under your breath, lightly kicking at his foot beside you.

“On Thanksgiving? For shame,” he teased, forking at his own pie with an impish grin.

“Can we do what my family does on Thanksgiving?” Tom asked everybody, smiling nervously.

After shoveling a piece of dessert into his mouth, Roman guffawed, “What? Fuck the turkey?”

Shiv laughed over her glass of wine.

“Go to other people’s dinners,” Logan dryly remarked.

More prickly laughter.

“No, no,” said Tom, fidgeting with the collar of his dark turtleneck. “We go around the table and we each say what we’re thankful for.”

From beside you, Roman let out a loud retching noise. “Blegh.” This time, you couldn’t hold in your laughter, hiding your embarrassed smile behind a hand.

“I’ll go first!” chimed Marcia. “I’m thankful to have the family all together.”

“Nice!” Tom excitedly agreed, happy that his proposal wasn’t being completely disregarded.

Surprising you, Roman was the next to go. “I’m thankful that, uh, Y/N used to sneak quarters under my pillows whenever I lost a tooth as a kid. I am… four dollars richer because of that. Oh, and that I wasn’t born a Siamese twin.”

You shot him a soft smile just as Shiv said, “Yeah, I’m also thankful for that—because being attached to you would be an absolute nightmare. But, mmh, I’m also thankful for the food.”

“Yeah, yes. Good food,” Kendall agreed.

There was a soft frown to Shiv’s features. “You can’t just piggy-back off of my thanks. Have your own.”

Before Kendall could even formulate a response, Greg cut in to say, “I’m thankful that Logan’s feeling better.”

Roman lolled his head to meet your eyes as he mouthed, suck up!

“I think we’re all thankful for that. It—it goes without saying,” Tom said in a haughty manner. “I’m thankful that I’m going to be marrying into one of the most vital and interesting and… kind and loving families in the world.”

“Are you not going to marrying Shiv anymore?” asked Roman, feigning innocence. Laughter scattered around the table as Shiv flipped off her twin brother.

Clearing his throat, Connor began speaking, “I have a little announcement. Uhm… Willa and I are pleased to announce that I’ve asked her and she’s agreed that we are to… take the next steps.”

Brows raising, Logan asked, “What? You—you’re not getting, uh…?” Married was what was left hanging in the air.

“No, we’re, uh… going steady.”

Roman began giggling under his breath. “Jesus Christ. You guys are going steady? What are you, nine?” At his eldest brother’s slightly crestfallen expression, Roman shook his head. “Happy for you, man.”

Everybody else chimed in their thanks, before you were finally the last one left. With the entire family’s eyes set on you, you folded your hands over your lap and offered Logan a timid smile. “I’m just grateful to always be welcome here. My parents were never around so… it was nice to still have people I could call family. And I’m also grateful that I have the honor of being Roman’s only friend.”

“Hey—!”

Marcia abruptly clapped her hands, sensing that the two of you would’ve spiraled down into a childish argument. “Alright, everyone! Shall we play a game? Let’s gather the kids.”

As if you were cattle, she rounded up everybody into the living room, looping her arm with her husband��s, which Logan barely even was.

The game was one of memory. A cold can of condensed milk was passed around the group as they chimed in what they’d bought from the market, along with what everyone else before them had bought.

Once the can got to you, you smiled as you repeated, “I went to the market and bought… a shark tooth, a pony, a big fat hen, and this.”

You passed the can off to Rome, his hand brushing yours. “Uh, I went to the market and bought a crack pipe—”

A litany of protests burst out in the room. Rava covered her daughter’s ears and Kendall sighed out, “Roman!”

“Alright, I went to the market and bought a gimp suit—”

“Roman.”

“Oh, my God. Fine—I bought a, uh, potato, a shark tooth, a pony, a big fat hen, and this.”

Finally, Roman passed the spotlight onto his father, who seemed like he hadn’t really been paying attention to the game.

“What’s it gonna be, Dad? A hot dog? China? Immortality? Souls of the innocent?” Roman asked, draping an arm over your shoulders.

There was a long pause. Longer than what was deemed normal. Logan glanced around blankly.

Marcia gently reminded him, “I went to the market…”

“Yeah, okay. I went to the market, and I bought… local TV.”

Tilting her head, little Sophie asked incredulously, “Can he buy that?”

“Yeah,” snorted Rome. “Dad can buy whatever he wants. So? Local TV and…?”

“Huh?”

“Clock’s tickin’. Time’s running out. Local TV, and what did I say?” Rome drummed his fingers along your arm—a nervous habit. When Logan took far too long to answer, you pursed your lips, displeased. Of course he hadn’t been listening to Roman. Of fucking course.

Finally, Shiv cupped a hand over her mouth to whisper, “A potato.”

“Hey! That’s cheating!” Roman bit out, suddenly taking the game far more seriously than he should’ve. “No hints. Come on, Dad. You got this.”

Did he?

You watched curiously as Logan glanced down at the can, as if only just realizing what he was holding.

“We can skip a turn,” you said, apprehensive. “It’s okay, it’s no big deal.”

Nodding, Tom said, “Marcia, you can go.”

The wife vehemently shook her head in a defensive manner. “No, he—”

Suddenly, Iverson stood up from his seat on the couch, trying to take the can away from Logan. “You lost, Grandpa,” he said. “You lose.”

The words seemed to anger Logan, and his grip tightened around the can, refusing to let the young boy grab it.

“You lose,” repeated Iverson.

Infuriated, the can came crashing across Iverson’s face with a sickening thud, and the young boy’s head went snapping sideways with the impact. You were on your feet immediately, too stunned to say anything as shocked yells and curses flooded into the room. Repressed memories of an equally young Roman on the ground, being kicked around bloody by Logan’s expensive foot flashed across your mind. On instinct, you pressed yourself closer to Roman, fingers curling around his arm.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Kendall yelled, getting in between his father and his son.

“I hardly touched him, it was just shock!” barked the older man. “Relax, son! Relax!”

“Take your hands off him! Get the fuck away!”

Both Rava and Kendall led a crying Iverson away into another room to inspect how badly he was hurt.

Silent, you slipped out as well, letting go of Roman to turn down the hall. You were breathing rather erratically, and had to press a palm to your chest to try and get your racing heart to quell its frantic pace.

When Roman called out your name, quiet and concerned, you could feel tears prick the corners of your eyes. You hadn’t realized that he followed you.

“Sorry, I just—I’m sorry. I got overwhelmed,” you said, wrapping your arms around your stomach. You suddenly felt like a child all over again.

There was a lump in Roman’s throat as he watched you slump against the wall. He twisted his face in what he hoped was a reassuring expression. “No, yeah, it’s uh… a fuckin’ mess in there right now. I don’t blame you.”

“It just… reminded me of some bad memories. Of you. And your dad.”

The two of you locked gazes for a long while, both unsure of what else to say. Roman shifted his weight from foot to foot, scuffing the heel of his shoe against the pricey beige carpet.

“Fuck,” was what he finally came up with. “Sorry. C’mere.”

He held one arm open, and you leaned forward to just sink into him, loosely lacing your hands together around him, your forehead resting upon his shoulder. Neither of you really needed to say anything else—there was a silent understanding stretched thinly between you. You were there to witness the worst parts of him, and he was there to pick up the pieces of you that broke while watching.

“Hey, fuck-face,” greeted Roman as he swung into your office, looking a bit more weary than usual. “I have an offer to make you.”

“That can’t mean anything good, knowing you,” you responded, raising an eyebrow. The click-clacking of your keyboard halted to listen to him, encouraging him to continue.

Fiddling with his tie’s knot at the base of his neck, he pulled a grimace. “It’s good, actually. Great. I don’t know. Dad wants us to do family therapy together—publicize the whole thing to make it look like our family business is still… a family business.”

“Oh,” you said, still miffed. “That’s… manipulative. Family therapy? Have you, uhm, met your family?”

Roman leaned his weight onto your desk, staring at you expectedly. “Come with me. It’ll be fun. Sand, scorpions, and drama. Imagine it like a weekend getaway.”

The thought of sticking yourself right between a family feud didn’t sound at all appealing. “I don’t know, Ro…” You paused to pinch between your furrowed brows. “With everything that’s happened—what with Logan firing Kendall and what happened with Iverson last time…”

“You don’t have to go to the fuckin’ therapy itself. Just come down to New Mexico.” Roman reassured. With a sigh, he tacked on, “Dad wants you there. It’s good for the image. You’re his goddaughter, remember?”

“How could I forget?” you dryly replied. “Fine. But I’m only going for you, not him.”

A smile etched over his features. “Aw, you love me. You fuckin’ sap.”

“Yeah, fuck off, Romeo.”

You’d fallen asleep in the car. And, as per typical Roman fashion, he startled you awake by repeatedly flicking at your cheek until you swatted his fingers away.

“We’re here,” he said in a sing-song voice. “New Mexico, baby.”

“Ugh, stop being so loud,” you replied, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

The two of you made your way onto Connor’s ranch. It was large and spacious, undoubtedly lavish while still keeping its old history intact—Connor was especially proud to point out the church on his property dating back all the way to the 1800s. Once inside, you greeted Shiv and Willa with a hug, Marcia with cheek kisses, and Tom with a steady handshake. Logan was last, who you awkwardly embraced, patting him on the back twice before pulling away.

“It’s good to see you here, Y/N. Thank you for coming,” he said.

You knew he only wanted you here for the image. Did he even really care about you?

“It’s good to be here,” you replied with a faux warm smile.

“You’ll be here for the photos tomorrow, yes?”

Roman watched as your smile faltered ever so slightly. “Yeah—yes, of course. I’ll be here.”

“That’s a good girl,” said Logan, taking another sip of his champagne. It seemed like every time you were around Logan, you were reduced back to a little child, nothing but an accessory to be dragged along and made the family look nice.

There was a frown marring Roman’s features as he led you away from his father, to the other end of the room where his sister sat. “This is like a—like the first stages of an orgy. Kind of exciting but also super awkward.”

“And how many orgies have you been to?” you asked with a laugh, bumping your hip against his, knowing full and well that the answer was none.

“I’ll invite you next time.”

The atmosphere between Roman and Shiv was statically tense. They bickered for a few minutes about how Roman had left Shiv in the dark about the vote of no confidence. Your eyes darted back and forth between their argument until it finally ended with Shiv punching him in the arm.

“Ow,” Roman moaned, clutching his bicep. “Fuck you.”

Finally, the two of them begrudgingly smiled at each other.

“I bet Dad’s gonna try winning at therapy,” said Shiv.

“Well, he hasn’t done therapy with me yet. I’m an expert,” Roman quipped.

Both you and Shiv glanced incredulously at each other. “Really?”

“Mhm. This—” Roman pointed at himself, “—is what it looks like when you resolve all your issues.”

“Uh-huh,” Shiv skeptically said.

With a smile, you teased, “I don’t think someone who’s resolved all their issues would use humor as a deflecting mechanism.”

“Ugh. Shut up. You’re just jealous I’m funny,” Roman fired back. “Don’t even deny it. I see you giggling and hoo-ha-ing at my jokes all the fuckin’ time.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Shiv said, “You know, my guy says that if Dad had had therapy, I wouldn’t need so much.”

You scoffed. “My guy says I have two father figures who didn’t really father me and left lasting impressions—which is just a nice way of saying they’ve fucked me up bad.”

“My guy’s surprised I got through it at all,” Roman chimed in.

“I don’t think you got through it all,” snorted Shiv.

The two of them burst into another round of mocking imitations.

Finally, Roman said, “I will have you both know that I’m very well-adjusted. You guys are just good at hiding it.” Then, as if to prove his own point wrong, he turned to tap Connor on the shoulder. “I just wanted to let you know that I think I’m going to reveal to him that you sexually abused me when I was a child.”

“Excuse me?” said Connor, baffled.

“Yeah, you just would not stop.”

You scowled. “God, Ro, that’s not funny.”

“You are one sick puppy,” Connor agreed.

“You’re the one who kept trying to fuck me!” said Roman through a fit of giggles.

“Why would you say that? Stop saying that! You don’t really think that, do you?”

“Mmh, no. I’m fuckin’ with you. Like the way you fucked me as a baby.”

Connor frowned. “What is wrong with you? You’re exasperating.”

Both you and Shiv shook your heads.

“Good luck with family therapy,” you told her. “Looks like it’ll be interesting.”

“Thanks,” she grumbled. “Really gonna need it. Ten bucks on someone running out before it’s finished.”

With a humored hum, you nodded. Though none of the siblings really wanted this to happen (well, Connor was up for debate), you doubted any of them would actually flake. “You’re on.”

When the therapist finally arrived, he went around the room, shaking everybody’s hand. Logan went up to the center of the room to acknowledge everybody present. “Right. Family. Mmh—we’re all gathered here in this beautiful home because there are things to address… and I believe we should address them. I think I explained all around that we’ll also have a small celebration of our coming together with photographs, tomorrow. Nothing fancy. Just a few simple, candid shots. Anyway, without further ado, Alon Parfit.”

The therapist stepped up next and gave his little speech about the courage it takes to go to therapy. Rome rolled his eyes to the side. It’s not like any of you were really given the choice.

“Thanks. This family is broken, and that has consequences,” said Connor. “A missed phone call today, and a couple dozen kids lose their jobs in China. Butterfly wings, but bigger. Huge wings—like a pterodactyl. Or the Smithsonian. So… let’s fix our wings.”

Both you and Roman glanced at each other, trying your best to smother down your amusement.

“Barely comprehensible,” retorted Roman, and you couldn’t help but laugh.

You strode out of your bathroom in your pajamas, having just brushed your teeth and done your nightly routine before bed. It didn’t at all surprise you that Roman hadn’t moved from his spot, eagle-spread over the mattress, playing a little game on his phone.

“Move over,” you said, shoving at his legs to climb on beside him. “You have your own room, you know. Why are you here?”

Ignoring you, Roman asked, “Why the fuck is it so cold in here? We’re in the goddamn desert. My nipples are so fucking hard—feels like they’re going to fall off. Touch them!”

“Ew, Ro, I don’t want to touch your nipples—”

Roman took your hand anyway, pressing it against his chest.

“Wow. Hard nipples,” you dryly remarked, fixing him with an unimpressed stare. “Thanks for showing me. Good night.”

As you began clambering beneath the comforter, Roman kicked off his shoes and unbuttoned a few top buttons of his shirt. Despite your half-hearted protests, he slid into the space beside you.

“Just like when we were kids,” you whispered, staring up at the ceiling with a faint smile. “I swear we slept in each other’s rooms more often than in our own.”

“You talked in your sleep,” Roman snickered.

“Yeah? You snored way too loud.” You began mimicking the way he snored in between giddy laughter. “Honk shoo. Hoooonk shoo—”

Prodding a finger into your side, Roman retaliated, “You moved around too much.”

“You liked to be the small spoon.”

“You would kiss your stuffed animals before going to bed.”

This time, you let out a loud laugh. “God, I forgot about that. I miss them. I missed this.” Your hand found his beneath the blanket, lacing your fingers together.

“Don’t draw anything on my face while I’m asleep,” he warned, turning on his side to face you.

“Shut up and go to sleep,” you replied, eyes already closing. “G’night, Ro.”

“Nighty-night, bitch.”

He was nervous. You could see it in his eyes. The therapist had already called for the siblings and Logan to gather in the church for their session, but Roman lingered behind, scuffing his shoe against the sand.

“Behave yourself, okay?” you told him, trying your best to give him a reassuring smile whilst buttoning up the top button of his dark blue shirt that was still hanging open. “Do it for Con and Shiv. I know this must be tough on all of you.”

Grateful for your tender comfort, Roman seemed a bit less nervous to head inside with the rest of his family. “Yes, mommy,” he teasingly bit out.

With a roll of your eyes, you shoved him away with a snort of indignant laughter, and watched as he slunk off to follow after his sister. Though Marcia and Willa and Tom offered for you to sit with them while waiting, you politely declined, needing some time alone in your room with your thoughts and a good book.

Not even half an hour later, Roman slipped through the doors of your bedroom, appearing slightly trodden on, scratching the back off his head in an anxious fashion.

“Ro?” you asked, sliding a crumpled receipt between the pages as a temporary bookmark, turning your full attention on him. “How’d it go?”

He gave you a smile—a weary one, full of secrets and doubt. “It was bullshit,” he whispered. For a moment, you wondered if tears were pricking his eyes, but that could’ve just been a trick of the broiling New Mexican sunlight.

“You wanna talk about it?” You shifted on the bed to pat the spot beside you. With a small sigh, Roman crawled beside you, tugging his knees up to his chest, as if he was a child all over again.

“No. Fuck. Maybe later.”

“Okay, Rome. Are you okay?”

The man beside you rested his cheek against his leg. “Yeah, just… I don’t know. I fuckin’... I just clammed up.”

Without another word, you pulled him into a side hug, your nose pressing against the side of his head affectionately.

“That’s okay,” you whispered, shutting your eyes as you leaned into him. “It’s okay to clam up sometimes.”

A hum, followed by a sigh. “Shiv is leaving. She has a meeting.”

“Lucky her. Will she be back?”

“I don’t know.” His voice was so quiet. Your heart ached for him. “Therapist wants us to reconvene this afternoon. If it’s just Connor and I with Dad… I don’t know. Doesn’t sound all that fun anymore.”

“Was it even fun in the first place?”

He gave you a half-hearted shrug.

You rubbed a comforting hand along his back. “We can always just bail.”

Pulling a grimace, Roman replied, “Dad would kill me.”

“Shiv bailed?”

Snorting, Roman shook his head. “Shiv doesn’t give a shit. Dad loves her anyway. Whatever fucked up version of love that is.”

A hesitant pause. “Well… if you’re staying, I’m staying.”

Your friend smiled loosely. “Don’t you ever… get sick of me?”

“Yeah, all the time, Ro,” you replied with no hesitation. “But I love you anyway. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

The two of you laughed quietly, before you slipped your hands away from him, heading over to your bag to fish out a swimming suit.

“C’mon—I saw a pool out in the back. How do you feel about going for a swim?”

The two of you were sitting side by side by the pool’s edge, legs dangling in the lukewarm water. He would flick water at your face every once in a while, taking great pleasure in the way your nose would wrinkle and how you’d lazily tell him to knock it off.

Just as you were about to sink into the pool, the therapist came up to the water, shedding his fluffy white robe onto a chair.

“You coming in for a swim?” you asked with a sweet smile. “The water’s nice.”

“Mmh, yeah, don’t be afraid of what’s down there. Pretend it’s our subconscious and just go for it,” Roman chimed in.

Parfit hummed, stepping closer to the edge. “Yeah, I know how to dive.”

“You gonna jump?” you said with a laugh, not really being serious.

“You want me to jump?” asked Alon.

Both you and Rome grinned at each other. “Jump, jump, jump!” the two of you chanted.

“Jump, you fuckin’ pussy!” exclaimed Roman, though he was quick to shut his mouth when his therapist flung himself into the pool face-first.

“Oh, my God,” you said, flinching back as a wave of water drenched the both of you. It was all a blur, really. One moment you saw the pool water darkening with blood, and the next you were jumping in to help Parfit out. Roman was yelling for help as you dragged him up over the edge, eyes widening.

He was conscious, which was a good thing, but when he parted his lips to croak out a question, you noticed with horror how the entire front row of his teeth had been knocked out. Unsure of what else to do, you wrapped a towel around him and told him to put pressure on the wounds.

When Connor and a few cleaners came asking what had happened, Roman told them, “He just dived in and hit the bottom!”

“Did you hit your head?” asked Willa in concern.

The therapist said something, but it was muffled behind the towel.

“He hit his teeth?” said Connor.

“Well, his teeth are in his head—kind of a central feature there,” said Rome, wincing as he saw all the blood pouring out of Parfit’s mouth. “I didn’t think he’d jump in head-first!”

“Yeah, well, just don’t let him go to sleep,” you said.

Parfit’s eyebrows pulled together. “I don’t wanna go to fuckin’ sleep!”

As they checked out his mouth, Willa told him that he should go to the hospital, despite Roman’s half-hearted protests that he looked okay. Eventually, it was agreed upon that Connor and Willa would take him.

“Fuckin’ great!” you heard Logan grumble. “And I was about to take advice from a clown who dives head-first into the shallow end of a pool! And now everybody’s fucking off!”

Marcia rubbed a consoling hand on her husband’s shoulder. “No, no, Roman and Y/N are still here. They’re here for the photos. Right?”

Subconsciously, you stepped closer to Roman just as Logan swung his gaze onto the both of you. The last ones standing.

“Sure,” Rome reluctantly said with a shrug. “I give good cheekbone. You?” He turned to look at you with pleading eyes.

You pursed your lips. “Yeah, uhm, yes. I just gotta go wash the therapist’s blood off of me.” With a half-hearted grin, you shook your head. “That’s a sentence I never expected to say.”

With that, you scuttled off upstairs, Roman following after you, the both of you leaving a trail of pool water in your wake.

The photoshoot went as well as it could’ve gone, considering both you and Roman were treading on thin ice around his father. You stood idly by the cameraman as Roman and Logan slowly treaded through the yellowed grass, discussing business matters beneath their breath. It wasn’t long before you were called forward, dressed in a smart white blouse and black slacks, to stand beside Logan while it was Roman’s turn to be benched.

The fucked up godfather-goddaughter duo.

“So, uh, how has New Mexico been treating you, Uncle Logan?” you asked as politely as you could, walking alongside him.

The older man shot you a sidelong glance. “Hot. Dry. Sandy. What else?”

“Ah, I, uhm—”

“Listen here, Y/N.” He stopped striding, and so did you. “You’re a good, dependable woman, with some wits about you. My son seems to be just the opposite.”

You frowned at his words, not overly fond of the way he always belittled your closest friend, his own son.

“I need you to guide him. Keep his head on his shoulders. I’ve just told him to call Japan, as COO, and handle a rocket launch. He’s in a big role now—we can’t afford him to be… easily swayed.”

We? you thought.

“What are you asking me, Uncle?”

Logan resumed walking, taking your arm to gently tug you along for the photographer to snap more shots. There was a tight feeling in your chest.

“I’m asking you to keep him by my side. Deter him from any of my enemies, which have already corrupted his brother and sister. You’ve always been a loyal member of our company, and I see you as a daughter, more than anything. With you, Romulus will be a much more formidable force.”

You swallowed hard. Why did his words feel so hollow? “I…”

“Smile for the camera,” he said.

You nodded, smiling stiffly.

Finally, the photographer asked for Logan to step away so he could get a couple shots of you and Rome.

“So…?” your friend asked, immediately winding an arm around your waist. “Spill. What did pops say to you? You looked like you were about to shit yourself.”

“Shut up,” you told him. “I’ll tell you later.”

The cameraman waved his arm to catch both of your attentions. “Can you guys move closer?”

Obnoxiously, Roman tugged you towards him so any remaining space between the two of you was effectively gone. He smushed his cheek to yours with a wide beam, your heads bumping against one another. “This close enough for you?” At the photographer’s thumbs up, Roman retorted under his breath, “This guy probably has a kink for nonconsensual filming during sex. Bet he has an entire USB filled with this shit in his mom’s basement or something.”

You couldn’t help it—you bursted out laughing, clutching onto Roman’s forearms as you grinned so large it was a wonder your face didn’t split into two. Whether you were laughing at Roman’s crude predictions, or the ludicrous nature of the way your faces were pressed up against one another, you didn’t quite know.

The photographer snapped a couple dozen photos of you genuinely laughing with Roman grinning like a fool before finally saying he had gotten plenty of pictures. More than enough to appease the press, that was for sure.

Kendall was in New Mexico, much to both your and Rome’s surprise. And, to worsen it all, he was high.

“Uh, can you drop me a pin so I know you’re okay?” Roman asked over the phone to his giggling brother, most likely coked up and inhaling several lungfuls of secondhand smoke. From your seat beside him, you could hear Kendall’s faint voice murmur something unintelligible. Growing frustrated, Roman spoke again, “Just drop me the fucking pin. I’m not going to come get you.”

He gave you a glance. You knew what he was asking almost instantly. The two of you were going to go get him.

“Just do it, Kendall. Do it now. Are you doing it?”

Another pause. Then a notification popped up on Roman’s phone.

“Alright, Y/N and I are coming to get you, man. Just, uh… sit tight, okay?” With that, Roman hung up.

His father, who had overheard the entire conversation, furrowed his wispy white brows. “Are you doing the call with Japan?”

Of course, he had just overheard that his son was out there, possibly on the brink of an overdose, and he was worried about a fucking business call. You squared your jaw and turned away from the both of them, shrugging on a coat to get ready to leave in search of Kendall. Though the two of you had a strained relationship at best, he was still more of a brother to you than anything.

“Uh, yeah… yes, I will,” Roman finally said. “But, um, I’m gonna go get Kendall. He’s here and he’s not great.”

A tense silence. For a moment, you wondered if Logan would tell his youngest son to stay and leave his older brother to fend for himself. His eyes darted to you for a brief moment as you grabbed a set of car keys out of the dozens laid out.

Kendall dying of an overdose would do Logan’s company no good. With a nod, he beckoned for the both of you to leave. Limbs suddenly unfreezing, Rome jolted towards you, ushering you out of the house to one of the cars.

The drive was tense and quiet, occasionally interrupted by Roman nervously drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and asking you an absentminded question. You’d reply with a two-worded sentence, before the two of you lapsed into more worried silence.

The house Roman pulled up to was dingy and dark, looking as if it were somehow sunken into itself. The flimsy metal fences were wilting and rusted. Roman knocked on the door with faded yellow paint thrice.

“Kendall?” he asked. “Kendall! Hey, open up!”

Abruptly, the door rocked open on its squeaky hinges, startling both you and Roman. The stench of piss and weed hit you like a shockwave. You lingered by the doorway, studying the room with narrowed eyes. Kendall was near the door, with a few other men smoking nearby.

“Oh, wow,” said Roman, shifting his weight from his toes to his heels. “Hi. You guys gonna offer me a cup of tea?”

High out of his mind, Kendall took another hit from a bong before slurring out, “Yo, Chang, show them your wolf tattoo, c’mon.”

With a greasy smirk, the man leaned forward and pulled his shirt down to show you a shoddy tattoo that only barely resembled a snarling wolf, howling obnoxiously. “You like my wolf, pretty lady?” He was getting far too close for your taste, so you stepped closer to Roman.

“Very nice,” you dryly said. “Hey, Kenny D, can we go now? It’s, uh, it’s getting late—”

Ignoring you, Kendall began introducing the rest of the men in the ragtag group, “Yo, this is, uh, Chang, Tanner, and Mac.”

“So great to meet you guys,” Roman quickly replied, scratching the back of his head in a fidgety fashion. “Let’s get out of here. C’mon.”

Another hit. More smoke filled the room and you wrinkled your nose with distaste. Kendall drawled out, “You know, I was thinking I probably shouldn’t talk to you, given the, uh, ongoing situation apropos of my legal action against you as a board member, for your failure to fulfill your fiduciary duty and breaching my employment contract. Then I thought about it some more and was like—who the fuck cares?”

Snapping his fingers, Roman pointed at the white powder Kendall was lining up to snort. “What—what is this? What is that? Fuckin’... crank?”

Snorting, Kendall retorted, “We’ve been having a lot of fun, Mom. Seriously, you should try this.”

Heaving out a dry laugh, you spat out, “No, thanks. Roman and I aren’t looking to kill ourselves tonight.”

“I hear that shit makes you crash like an airbus full of eggs,” said Rome, eyeing his brother surreptitiously.

“Not if you stay high,” chimed one of the other druggies.

Kendall snorted. “Tanner makes good points.”

“Tanner is too fucked up on thirty different kinds of drugs to make good points,” you haughtily said. “Kendall, please, let’s just get the fuck out of here.”

The older brother tried to click open his lighter, but it seemed to be out of gas.

“Oh, hey, I can fix that,” said Roman, plucking the little prism out of Kendall’s hands and chucking it across the room with a clang. “Great. Problem solved. Let’s go.”

“Fine, fine,” Kendall begrudgingly said. “Alright, I’m coming. Family therapy n’ all that.”

One of the other men blew out a stream of smoke before saying, “Hey, man, your friends fucking suck.”

“Not my friend,” slurred Kendall. “Brother. And his girlfriend.”

Neither you nor Roman had the heart to correct him.

Kendall clapped the both of you on your shoulders as you swung the creaky door open. “You know what, guys? They’re actually pretty okay. Pretty chill.”

The high group yelled a bunch of farewells as you rushed out of the house, the two brothers in tow. The returning drive was much louder than the journey on the way to get Kendall, because he kept turning on the radio to play music obnoxiously loud, and giggled and laughed and made crude noises as Roman took a work call about the launch in Japan. He so desperately didn’t want to disappoint his father, you felt sorry for him.

By the time the three of you made your way back onto Connor’s ranch, you were dead tired and in dire need of some sleep.

Kendall was still excited and giddy, banging his fists against the windows and flinging the door open to yell, “What up, motherfuckers!” to everybody gathered in the kitchen. “Sorry I’m late. What are we arguing about?”

Shifty eyes darting to both you and Roman leaning against each other by the edge of the room, he barked out, “What the fuck’s wrong with him?”

“I’m off my nuts, folks. Off my fuckin’ nuts!” exclaimed Kendall, making for the fridge to touch everything inside, eventually grabbing an unopened bottle of beer.

Roman cleared his throat. “Uh, Dad, just so you know—everything’s good with the launch. I talked to the guy, and—”

“He doesn’t fucking care, Rome!” interrupted Kendall. “He doesn’t even notice. Dad—give him a high five, or something. C’mon. He’s waiting… with those fuckin’ puppy dog eyes of his. Fuck.”

“Stop it, Kendall,” you said with a frown.

Kendall only parroted your words with a mocking tone, which made Roman bristle beside you.

It seemed that Logan had no interest in putting up with any of his sons’ bullshit, instead placing all his attention on a sour Shiv behind the kitchen island. They argued more, Logan angry at his daughter for leaving their family therapy to go meet with one of his enemies. It was until Kendall made a distasteful joke about Logan being a high-class hooker that Willa abruptly stood up, bidding everyone a goodnight and storming upstairs. You felt bad for her, having half the mind to follow her up. But you stayed by Roman’s side, trying your best to swallow around the lump in your throat as Logan argued with Connor now.

Arguments after arguments. That’s all it was with this family.

Shiv was quick to turn tail and leave when Logan called her a coward, Tom hot on her heels. You buried your weary face within your palms. Just as you pulled your hands away, Logan was storming towards Kendall for cracking another distasteful joke—this time about his father’s abusive uncle.

Your stomach lurched with the possibility of witnessing Logan hit another one of his sons, and Roman let his hands slip away from you as he struggled with whether or not he should help Kendall. But before he could decide, Logan called Ken a fucking nobody and staggered off with Marcia in tow.

Kendall pulled a grimace before taking another swig of his beer. He didn’t seem all too affected by his father’s harsh words.

“Good night, Con,” you quietly said as you slipped past him, going out of your way to ignore Kendall.

“Night, guys,” Roman whispered to his brothers, crestfallen.

The two of you wordlessly made your way upstairs and into Roman’s room, which was closer than yours. You didn’t bother changing—simply crawling beneath the cold bed’s blanket, making space for him to climb in after you. Roman dug his knuckles into his tired eyes.

“I clammed up,” Roman whispered, pressing his nose into the base of your throat as you wound your arms around him. “Again.”

“That’s okay, Roman,” you said, repeating the very same words you had said to him only hours before. “I like clams, you know.”

“Yeah? I’m more of an oyster guy, myself.”

“Mmh. Those are good, too.”

“Mhm.”

Faintly, you felt his lips brush against your neck just before you fell into the gentle clutches of sleep.

You’d honestly expected Roman to ask you to be his plus one for Shiv’s wedding. But, to your surprise, he’d found himself a girlfriend at Tom’s bachelor party—a beautiful blonde woman that had sucked the groom off and made him swallow his own load.

When Roman told you, you really thought he’d been joking at first. Nevertheless, you were happy for him, even if he was just with Tabitha to spite Tom in his own twisted way.

By the time Shiv’s wedding rolled around, you decided to go without a date, more than happy to enjoy the night on your own. You stepped out of the car, thanking the driver with a smile, before heading into the venue, your eyes bright and wide as you took in the intricately decorated space.

You caught sight of Roman with his date by the entrance, his mother on his other side.

“Hello!” she greeted you with her lilting British accent. “Y/N, darling, how’ve you been? I don’t think I’ve seen you since you were a little doll—I remember your pigtails like it was yesterday. How you and Roman tracked mud into the house, covered in twigs and bristles.”

Leaning forward, she pressed kisses to both your cheeks and gave you a loose hug. “Hi, no, yeah—I’m, uh, I’m doing great.”

“Where’s your date, darling? Is he running late?”

For a moment, you let your eyes slide over to Roman, who gave you an apologetic shrug.

“No date today,” you told her, smiling tightly. “Just me.”

“Splendid, splendid,” she said, and began to prattle on about how marriages were a miserable affair anyway.

As politely as you could, you moved away from Caroline to hug her youngest son, your oldest friend.

“You look nice, Ro,” you told him, patting his freshly-shaven cheek twice.

“Me? Look at you!” he replied, whistling obnoxiously. Then, in a ridiculous British accent (in an obvious mockery of his mother), he crooned, “Give us a spin, love.”

You didn’t spin, but you rolled your eyes fondly. The dress you wore today was a deep shade of violet, with a tight bodice that criss-crossed over your chest and flowed loosely down past your hips. Your hair was up and away from your face, which effectively took the option for you to nervously fidget with it off the table.

Finally, you turned your gaze to Roman’s date. “Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to finally meet you,” you kindly told her, holding your hand out to shake hers.

To your surprise, she pulled you into a hug instead, smiling widely. “Yes, likewise! God, Roman’s told me all about you.”

“He has?” You arched a brow to him just as he glanced away, scratching the back of his head. “All good things, I hope.”

“Mostly, yeah.”

With a laugh, you shook your head. “Well, I do look forward to talking to you some more—enjoy the party and the company. Bye, Rome—Caroline.”

The first few hours flew by in a breeze. There was a whole commotion with Shiv being upset that Logan was planning on coming, despite her wishes for him to stay well away. Rome had quietly asked you if you thought he was coming because he was worried about the launch. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that Logan could really care less about it, which is why he handed the job over to Roman in the first place.

Then the party came next, filled with mingling socialites and expensive wines and drinks, food that tasted like it cost a hundred dollars a bite. You floated through, speaking to dozens of people who knew your name, but you didn’t know a single one of theirs. It felt lonely, in a way.

Finally, you were able to find Shiv amongst the packed throng, congratulating her on the marriage.

“You’re tethered to Tom now,” you joked, wrinkling your nose at the thought. “You’ll certainly have your hands full with him.”

The both of you grimaced at your wording.

“Listen, Shiv, just know that I’m here for you if you ever need anything, okay?”

With a hum, the redhead took a drawn-out sip of her drink. “You took the photos with dad in New Mexico.”

“Yeah?”

“You with him, then?”

You blinked. “No… I mean, he’s my godfather, sure—”

“Yeah, well he’s my dad, but that seems to mean very little to him.” She regarded you over the rim of the champagne flute. “I can’t get a read on you, Y/N. You’re so obviously not happy with my dad. Why do you keep taking his side?”

Before you could respond, Roman came sidling up to both of you.

“Hey, dipshits! What’re we talking about?” he asked in a sing-song voice.

“Nothing,” you quickly responded. “Where’s Tabitha?”

Waving away your question, Roman responded, “Eh. Off mingling. You know her.”

“Not really, actually—”

It was then that Caroline came up, having just asked two strangers how long they thought Shiv and Tom would last. She’d been asking just about everyone at the wedding that question, making them deeply uncomfortable as they were forced to stammer out a hasty protest that it’d last forever. Or, at the very least—a long time.

“I like your girlfriend, Ro,” she told her son.

“Oh, thank you. I met her at a sex party where she was giving the groom a blowjob.”

You did a double take, not expecting him to be so abrash with his words to his mother, right in front of the bride. To your relief, neither Shiv nor Caroline seemed to take him seriously.

“Funny, Ro. So funny,” you said, trying your best to play off your reaction.

With a nod and a hum, Caroline chimed, “You should marry her.”

This time, it was Roman’s turn to be shocked. “Excuse me?”

For some reason, you felt a sick feeling curl within your stomach. Caroline’s eyes burned into you, but you refused to meet her gaze.

Finally, she turned to her daughter. “Shiv, stop taking everything so seriously. I’m trying to sparkle. When people ask me how long I give it, I say forever. Or—at least, it’ll feel like forever.”

With that, Caroline hurried off, calling after a waiter carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

“She says she’s being impish,” Roman said.

“Well, we know where you get that trait from, then,” you dryly remarked, earning you a flick to the ear, which made you smile and swat Roman’s hands away.

With a tired sigh, Shiv pinched the space between her brows. “She’s being a stone-cold bitch.”

Roman snickered. “Freud is having a field day right now.”

“Fuck off,” Shiv spat, before taking her leave to find her husband.

“How’s socializing been? I saw you nearly fall asleep on a business associate a while ago,” leered Rome, mischief dancing amongst his molten irises.

“Trust me, you’d fall asleep, too. He just kept talking and talking about the future of cybertechnology—I already put up with enough of that from Connor.”

Clearing his throat, Roman patted your shoulder firmly. “Hey, listen—you heard what my mom said, right? That I should propose to Tabs?”

It felt like static started playing in your ears. “What?” you asked, baffled.

“She said I should marry her.”

“Rome… you’ve known her for less than a month.”

“And?”

“She’s—” You stared at him for a moment, incredulous. “Ro, she’s not going to say yes. You guys barely know each other.”

The way Roman’s features contorted into genuine disbelief made you pull your brows together. He scoffed, “Well, just because you said no, doesn’t mean she will.”

Again, you parroted, “What? What are you talking about? When have you ever proposed to me?”

“Oh, don’t pretend like you don’t remember.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “No, Romeo, I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

With a sigh, Roman scratched at his head. “We were like, fuckin’ sixteen or something—I asked you if you wanted to get married, and you said no.”

Suddenly, the faint memory of Roman joking about marriage and the white-picket fence life came to the forefront of your mind. The two of you had found an abandoned playground and sat side by side on the creaking, rusted swings. They were clearly meant for children a decade younger than you, but neither of you cared. The night was cold, and Roman’s nose was red, his breath misting with each sigh he took. A wave of nostalgia overtook you.

“Ro, we were kids. And you didn’t actually ask me. You kind of just… told me that we should. You can’t—ugh. I didn’t know you were being serious.”

It ached within your chest when Roman drew himself away from you.

“I wasn’t being serious.”

“Then why are we having this conversation?” you asked, hating the way your voice broke under the weight of your words. “You’re a grown adult, Roman. If you want to propose to Tabitha, you do that.”

With an unnecessary amount of hostility, Roman spat out, “Fine. I will.” But you saw right through him. He was putting up a front because of how hurt he was, just like he always did.

“Okay.”

“Fuck you. When she says yes, you’re not invited to the wedding.”

There was so much you wanted to throw back at him. The sentences lodged in your throat—too many, all at once. With a sharp inhale and the familiar sting of tears in the corner of your eyes and the bridge of your nose, you turned away and stormed back into the party, your dress fluttering in your wake.

She was brushing her teeth, and Roman was lounging on the bed. It was a tender moment of domesticity that was rare for the both of them. But her mind was on what she was going to do when she returned home, and his mind was on you. How you’d looked like he’d slapped you when he told you that you wouldn’t be invited to his wedding. If it was even happening. Which it would.

“You know, you’re fucking great,” Roman called out to Tabitha, face smushed against the mattress.

“Thank you!” she said, smiling around the foamy toothbrush.

“You’re not a head fuck. Or a bitch or a leech.”

The blonde rinsed her mouth. “You say such pretty things.”

“Hm. You never once asked to stay over, or how it works with my dad, or the trust…”

Clearing her throat, Tabitha made her way from the bedroom to sit in front of the vanity table beside the bed. “I’m just pathologically incurious.”

A beat of silence. Roman scrutinized her reflection in the mirror, as she busied herself with rubbing moisturizer into her cheeks. “What if I was prepared to marry you?”

Her hands halted in their ministrations and she locked eyes with him through the mirror. “Hello?” she asked, holding the same incredulous tone you had a few hours ago.

“Hi.”

She laughed as if it was a joke, and Roman shrugged.

“What? Shiv’s getting married. Kendall got married, too—”

The woman nodded emphatically as she pushed away from the table and moved to sit beside him on the bed, “I see. So how about you come down from Mount Olympus and propose to a mere mortal?”

“Yeah, what if?”

The two of them stared at each other for a moment longer.

“No,” she said.

“No?”

Giggling, she shook her head. “You’re crazy.”

“Why is this crazy?”

It took another prolonged second for Tabitha to realize that Roman was being genuine. “Because this isn’t a normal relationship, Roman.”

“What? Why?”

Tabitha chewed on the inside of her cheek. “Well… for one thing, we never fuck?”

A flicker of insecurity flashed across his face. “Yeah, we do,” he protested.

“Mmh, no, we don’t.”

“C’mon, Tabs. We do—we’ve just been busy, is all.” Roman slid off the bed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable in his own skin.

Shaking her head, Tabitha replied, “No, you, like, kind of jerked off near me once. We didn’t even make eye contact!”

“Yeah, alright, there’s no need to be disgusting.” Shame coiled hot and heavy within his chest.

“To be honest, Roman, I’ve had way more sexual contact with the groom than I have with you.”

Groaning, Roman pulled at his face. “Ugh, c’mon, I asked you not to talk about that!”

“Look, I’ve slept with a lot of guys, Roman Roy, and if that’s gonna be a problem then you’ve gotta say—!”

“No, it’s not a problem. It’s Tom’s issue, not mine. I just—I don’t… look, do you wanna get married or not?” He finally locked eyes with her.

Tabitha smiled again, though this time it was distant and sympathetic. Tilting her head, she asked, “Babe… do you think this is how to get someone to stay?” Another long silence. Roman swallowed hard, and looked away from her. “Are you sure you’re not projecting on me? That you’re not overcompensating in this relationship for another one?”

You. It was clear she was alluding to you. She wasn’t mad about it, either. She could tell that Roman’s heart was given to another since the moment she met him, even if he didn’t know it just yet.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Roman stiffly said. With that, he stood up. “I’m gonna go. Satellite launch shit. Bye.”

Tabitha watched him practically scramble out of the room, uncharacteristically somber.

Three knocks on your door. They were soft and hesitant, only barely there. You’d only just gotten out of the shower, toweling off your hair, clad only in a loose white tee and your underpants. When you hastily slid on a pair of sweats, you made for the door, pulling it open just a sliver to see who it was.

Roman was on the other side. His hair was disheveled to no return, as if he’d been endlessly carding his fingers through the strands.

“Are you sucking someone off in here, or can I come in?” he asked.

With pursed lips, you stepped aside to give him space to amble through the doorway, and you gently shut it behind you. Roman was a mess, you could see it clear as day.

“You okay?”

“Yeah. Why would I be? My sister’s officially getting married tomorrow. Woohoo.” He pumped a limp fist into the air.

“I see right through you, Roman Roy,” you said. The faux confidence in his composure seemed to slip right through the cracks of his fingers with each second.

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tentatively spread your arms. Relief flooded his features and he surged forward, embracing you tightly. His nose found your neck as he inhaled your familiar scent in, and his fingers curled within the fabric of your shirt.

“I asked Tabitha. She said no.”

“I know, Ro. Or else you wouldn’t be here.” You held him all the closer. “I’m sorry.”

“Shut up. Just… just hold me.”

And so you held him for what felt like hours, until you drifted off into unconsciousness. Roman stayed awake beside you, watching you, observing all your relaxed features he had already memorized for years by now. By the time the clock on the wall read three in the morning, he gently slipped away from your grasp, and made his way back into his room.

Tabitha was deep asleep, and his side of the bed was left untouched. Roman bit into his lip so hard it began to bleed, before heading into the bathroom. He laid down in the cold bathtub and fell asleep there, as if he were a dog shunned out by his owners.

Shiv was beautiful in her wedding dress. Granted, she was beautiful in her salmon-hued outfit the previous night, but she seemed to glow on this particular day. When you had told her of such sentiments, Shiv merely rolled her eyes and scoffed, before tugging you into a hug.

“I wish I had sisters,” she whispered when she pulled away. “My brothers are so… eugh.”

“I know. Eugh.”

The two of you laughed, and linked arms when the photographer asked for the both of you to smile and look at the camera. Several snaps later, you were ushered off to the side so the families could take pictures with the bride and groom. Finally, when it was time for siblings and their respective partners, it left a dull ache in your chest to see Roman and Tabitha leaning all over each other, as if what Rome had told you yesterday hadn’t actually happened.

“Y/N, get in here,” said Shiv, beckoning for you. “C’mon!”

Hesitant, you scooched into the other end of the group, where Connor and Willa were leaning against one another. You smiled for the camera, and took great relief when you asked to see the picture later on, noting how your smile looked passably genuine. You’d always been good at masking your emotions. It was just a trait you had to adopt, growing up around the Roys.

Once the ceremony took place, the party took off in full-swing. You flitted from group to group, enjoying the amicable atmosphere and all the free food.

It was when you were in an engaging conversation with Stewy about money laundering schemes did Roman finally rush up to you, a phone held up to his ear. Without even letting you say goodbye to Stewy, he was grabbing onto your arm and rudely dragged you away, despite your surprised protests.

“Shh—I’m on the phone, here!” He glared at you for a moment before speaking into the device again, “Sorry, yeah. Lemme get to some place more quiet. Yup, yeah, I got it—it’s streaming. Connecting.”

“Ro, is this about your little satellite launch thing?” you asked, allowing him to shove you into a ridiculously lavish gilded bathroom, squeezing in after you.

With a frown, he replied, “It’s not little. I reorganized this shit and pushed the launch for today as, like, a fuckin’ wedding gift to Shiv, or whatever, but she’s being a stuck-up carbon-neutral bitch and doesn’t even wanna bother watching it. So you’re gonna watch it with me.”

You jumped onto the sink, and he leaned back so that your knee was grazing his side. You peered over his shoulder to look at the screen, which was still frozen on the livestream’s loading page.

“If nothing comes up in the next two minutes, I’m leaving.”

“Just shut up and give it a second—oh, there. Rocket.”

The two of you intently watched the shuttle prepare for takeoff. Plumes of smoke filled almost half the screen. That was normal for a launch right?

Then, before either of you could say a word about it, a large explosion tore through the entire spacecraft, angry shades of orange and ochre filling the screen. That definitely wasn’t normal for a launch. The blast looked so severe that it’d be a miracle if any of the billion-dollar equipment survived at all.

Dead silence stretched thin between the two of you. It was broken when Roman sharply inhaled, turning the power off and shoving the phone into his suit. He turned, brows furrowed, meeting your worried eyes. You were still far too shocked to say anything.

He cleared his throat and began to wash his hands beside you, arm grazing your thigh in his haste. Neither of you said a word. Once he toweled them dry, he patted your knee, checked his reflection, and strode out of the bathroom as if nothing had happened.

It took you a few seconds to get over your frozen shock and follow after him, meandering through the crowd. You murmured a hasty apology when you accidentally trod on a man’s shoe, calling after Roman, who was intent on disappearing behind everyone.

When you finally found him again, he was downing strong drinks that he had asked Tabitha to go fetch, having just listened to Gerri tell him that he was looking at potential corporate manslaughter.

“Roman…?” you asked, which startled him into sitting up straight on the couch. You fumbled for your words. “I, uh… are you okay?”

“Good. Great. Yup, yup, yup—I’m doing fantastic. C’mon, it’s time for dinner! Let’s go, mom’s probably going to make some shitty toast about how much of a slut Shiv was in high school. Don’t wanna miss that, do we?”

Pursing your lips, you put a hand on his shoulder. “Romeo, I just think we should, I don’t know, talk about this—?”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he stressed, stepping away so that your hand fell back to your side. “Gerri’s gonna take care of it. It’ll be fine.” Judging by his petrified countenance, he seemed not to have faith in his own words.

You watched as he walked off, taking Tabitha’s hand and leading her to the dinner tables. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you found your own seat at the end of the family longtable, downing the water in the glass in front of you in one go.

One by one, the Roy family gave their speeches for Shiv. Their words mostly flew over your head—you couldn’t really concentrate on the repeated sentiments when you’d just witnessed an explosion that Roman caused—which he refused to talk about with you. After dinner, it was time for more dancing, which you were really not in the mood for. But when Logan asked for your hand halfway through a song, you couldn’t find it in yourself to say no to your godfather.

You wondered if he knew about the launch. If he cared, even. Probably not.

“What’s wrong, dear?” he asked. “You look down. Did Romulus do something?”

“No,” you hastily said, a beat too soon. “I’m just a bit tired, is all.”

“Well, you know who to come to if something’s gone… awry.”

“Of course, Uncle Logan.”

The rest of the dance was spent in comfortable silence. Or, as comfortable as you could be around your tempestuous godfather. You thanked him for the dance once the song ended, before rushing off to go find a bathroom to lock yourself in for a quiet moment to yourself.

Half an hour later, when you psyched yourself up to slip out, you immediately bumped into Tom.

“Hey, Y/N, enjoying the party?”

“Yeah, uhm—yes, it’s been great. Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks, thanks.” He rocked back on his heels awkwardly. “So, uh, you heard about Kendall, right?”

“What? What about him?”

Surprise etched over his features. “You don’t know? He planned a takeover. Yeah, Shiv is furious about it. He’s disappeared for a while now, I don’t know where he is.”

Your mouth dropped open as you struggled for words. “Sorry, excuse me, I have to go.” You brushed past the groom, off to find Roman to ask him what the hell was going on.

When you finally found him, he was just beginning to call Gerri over.

“Did you hear anything yet?” he asked her. He gave you a glance once you came up to his side, and he slung an arm over your hips—which was his way of nonverbally apologizing for being an asshole earlier today. He needed your comfort now more than anything.

“About?”

“Japan. Like, how many died—how many bodies they found?”

Gerri blinked. “Yeah, you didn’t hear?”

Dread filled your stomach.

“No?”

“None,” said the woman.

“None? Like—none none? None at all?”

Shrugging, Gerri said, “Two guys lost their thumbs, and there might be an arm that they can’t save but… they might.”

Instant relief lifted the weight off your shoulders. “So no casualties?”

“No, but it’s still tragic how—”

“Oh, my God,” Roman interrupted. “So—you’re—you fucking kidding me? This is amazing! Just an arm and a couple fucking thumbs? Jesus, this is great!” He burst into a fit of laughter, which made Gerri roll her eyes and walk away, clearly busy with the entire Kendall situation on her plate, as well.

Roman grabbed at your shoulders, shaking you with his excitement. “Did you hear that? I’m not a murderer!”

You took his hands, squeezing them with a warm smile. “Congrats. The bar is in hell, but congrats.”

With a strange noise emitting from his throat, Roman surged forward to hug you, squeezing you so tightly that you had to tap his shoulder repeatedly to remind him to loosen up.

“Do you wanna go dance? Let’s go dance!” he exclaimed over the surging music, pushing you to the dance floor. “C’mon, we’ll dance with Tabitha, let’s go, move your ass!”

For a moment, you let yourself forget about business and the takeover, smiling and laughing as you shuffled along to the beat with your best friend and his girlfriend. You let yourself believe that things were going to be okay.

Kendall joined the dance floor with his children an hour later. There was a haunted look to his eyes, but you chalked it up to his guilt for the company takeover without telling his siblings.

The next day, when you learned of the caterer who got high off his mind and crashed into the lake not too far from the venue, you never put the pieces together that Kendall was in the car with him.

It wasn’t Roman who became a murderer at his sister’s wedding. It was Kendall.

#roman roy x reader #roman roy fanfiction #roman roy fluff #roman roy series #roman roy ff #roman roy smut #roman roy angst #roman roy x you #roman roy fanfic #succession roman x reader #succession roman #roman roy #succession fanfiction #succession x reader #roman roy imagine

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heyidkyay · 7 months ago

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Three

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors Note: Another update this week?? I'm as shocked as anyone else, but hopefully this one will make up a little for the last! It's longer and a little less, um, idk, I can't say emotional?? because that would be a lie:/ Still, there are some developments! Also, it'll make sense a lot later but the 2nd image and the use of a Ride song are used in this one!

Hope you enjoy! Also thank you for all the love on this current series, it means a whole lot and keeps me writing xx

Warnings: similar to that of the last post! so pls look back there if you'd like to know!:)

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

“I said no.”

Stressed was a feeling beyond words at this point. The past couple of days all I’d had was press hounding at me, calling and texting, emailing at all hours of the fucking day. They wouldn’t let up, even after I’d stayed silent. Adi reckoned it was mostly down to Teddy’s involvement in the whole thing. I didn’t want to think much more about it, although I knew she wasn’t wrong.

“Give me a reason at least?"

I shot a scathing glare over my shoulder before turning back to the filing system I’d taken to reorganising. It was my first morning back at the studio since... yeah, well Finn had Teddy- another factor to my current load of stress- whilst Adi was off doing something or other. I hadn’t asked, fearful of putting more of a strain on her current friendship- relationship??- with Ross, so instead I’d just chosen to tidy and rearrange the entire setup we had going on here. Because that was perfectly normal. And not a fucking way to evade talking or thinking about the mess that was my life. Okay?

“I don’t need a fucking reason, I just don’t want to.” I retorted, hissing slightly when I suddenly cut my thumb on the edge of a document. I withdrew my hand quickly and raised it towards my mouth, letting my eyes slip close for a moment when I heard a footfall step closer.

“Let me see.” Jamie sighed, probably thinking I’d done something worse to my hand than just a papercut. To be fair, the cabinet was old. One of them filing types from the ninety’s that we’d gotten for a score down at some boot sale, so I wouldn't be surprised if one of us did eventually end up losing an arm.

I shook my head and pushed the cabinet drawer closed, “It’s fine, just a papercut.”

Jamie huffed an amused chuckle before settling down on the edge of the desk nearby. It was Adi’s, you could tell from the sheer amount of shit she had accumulating it.

“One thing after another with you.”

My head tilted towards him with a deadened expression, “Ha ha.”

The older man raised his hands up in a mocking surrender, showing he hadn’t meant any real harm. “Too soon?”

I kicked at the toe of the leather boots he wore in retort as I moved towards the kitchenette, aware that he was just trying to lighten my horrendous mood but not really in the right mind for it.

“You want a brew?” I asked, not bothering to give him an honest reply to that question of his. Too soon? Yes, that was all too fucking true.

“Have a coffee if there’s one going.”

I dipped my head in a slight nod, filling the kettle and setting it to boil before snagging the coffee often reserved for guests on the show from a shelf nearby.

Jamie moved to better face me on Adi’s desk as I did so, wearing that same expression he’d turned up in, all concerned and weary. It bothered me a bit, seeing as though it was all I had garnered since the press had had their field day with my life, but I could also understand why. They all just seemed to feel for the idiot stupid enough to fall into another of Matty Healy’s traps.

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” He wondered around a light chortle at my demand, hands falling to rest between his thighs.

I gestured towards his face whilst I poured a splash of milk into my mug, “Looking at me like that, like I’m gonna break or something.”

With a sigh, he pressed his lips together. “You know it’s not like that.” I rolled my eyes in return but he just bounded on, “You know it’s not, I just care is all.”

I forced out a breathless chuckle, “That why you’re here trying to get me to hear him out then?”

To be fair to him, Jamie had come right out with it when he’d first popped by, having messaged me asking after my whereabouts earlier this morning. I’d told him, having spoken to him quite a bit over the last couple days, and then found him on the doorstep.

Jamie had been good with everything. He’d let me vent, rally against one of his friends and clients, question his own motives- and hadn’t even complained one bit. But now he was here asking me to give Matty a chance, a lot like he’d done that first time around in that small cafe all those months ago.

“I know you’re angry, you have every right to be.”

“Of course I’m fucking angry!” I immediately shot back at him, the rattle of the teaspoon ringing out as I dropped it into a mug, “I wouldn’t care if it had just been me he’d gone and fucked over! But he brought Teddy into this shit, Jamie. My son! So tell me, how am I supposed to hear him out after he’s done something like that and then lied about it? For weeks, mind you.”

Jamie looked back at me, wearing that ‘this meant business’ mug of his. I slumped at the sight, pressing my knee against one of the lower cabinets to continue stirring the drinks. I didn’t care, I didn’t care, I didn’t care.

“There’s a lot you don’t know, Mouse.”

My eyes slipped closed at his words and I took a second to just breathe. Because I wasn’t angry, not really. I was hurt and humiliated, and just so fucking sad. Fed up with it all, if I was being honest. Enough so that I knew that Jamie was being truthful here- and not just because it was a fact that I hadn’t spoken to Matty since things had fallen apart, but also because I hadn’t had the heart to ask Teddy about things yet. Or if ever.

The kid was four. Four, and asking after a man every night before he fell asleep and then as soon as he opened his eyes the next morning.

He knew something was up, he was smart like that. But what was I meant to do- to say? When I was just as confused as he was.

I’d ended up leaving him with Finn today, having had no other choice in the situation because the nursery was closed for an inset day, or some shite like that, and it seemed I had no other friends than the few around me.

Could quite literally count the lot of them on one hand.

But still, Finn and I’s relationship had still been rather rocky after that whole incident with him and Matty, and hadn’t improved since. In fact, he’d been a little unbearable about everything, always one to toot his own horn whenever he was right about something. But it was always slyly and I couldn’t help but feel as though it was a constant dig, like even when he wasn’t commenting on it he was still thinking it whenever he looked at me.

Which felt so horrible to think, let alone say out loud. He was my best friend. So I’d kept my mouth shut and just dealt with it, like I did everything else in life.

“He’s messed up about it.” Jamie then spoke, his voice having startled me a tad, breaking me out of my musings. He was watching me again, only when he did it, it didn’t feel as condescending as everyone else's. Like he understood my position. And I guessed that he probably sort of did.

“I bet.” I scoffed quietly, an airy titter escaping through my nose, and then I turned to toss my teabag away.

“It’s true.” Jamie shrugged, then nodded in thanks when I pushed a coffee his way. “He’s been ‘round Ross’s ever since shit hit the fan, hasn’t left the flat. Driving the lot of us mad, but he’s torn up, Mouse.”

Tongue in cheek, I wrapped my hands around my cup and propped my hip up against the counter, staring into the still swirling liquid. “Serves him right, I guess.” I replied with a soft shrug of my own, though we both knew I didn’t quite mean it.

Jamie looked over towards one of the windows to the right, most of them were either way too long or too tiny for the space, an odd build, but this particular one gave way to the skyline lying over the remainder of the city. I often wondered what the lower levels might look out at, thinking it was probably the majority of the surrounding buildings, and couldn’t help but feel a little thankful that we’d managed to snag this unit.

When he glanced back over at me, I took a sip and let him speak.

“A lot went on, that much I know, and it’s your choice how you deal with it. But, I saw the two of you. I saw him change. Which is stupid to say, I know, but it doesn’t stop it from being true. He was different with you, he actually tried in other aspects of his life and not just with the band and the music. He looked genuinely happy.” He smiled softly at the eye roll I gave, but it didn’t appear to deter him. “Don’t get me wrong, I know you didn’t fucking cure him. Don’t work like that, does it? But you helped. You and Teddy both.”

I looked away then, back towards the window, unable to really help it, and instead allowed my eyes to trail over the clouds which powdered the dusty blue sky.

“It was different. Things were different, and I know that there was love there. There couldn’t not have been. The way he looked at you…” Jamie shook his head ever so slightly as he breathed out, unaware of just how deeply his words had cut. But then he peered over at me and I found myself already looking back, air caught somewhere in the swell of my lungs.

“Don’t.” I choked out, the grip on my mug having tightened tenfold. “Just,” I shook my head.

Jamie put his coffee down on the desk and moved to stand, hands raised to convey he wasn't a threat. “I’m not saying this to hurt you more, love. Just telling you how I saw it.”

I licked at my lower lip, casting my eyes downwards. Our silence stretched and all could be heard was the odd car horn and chirp from beyond the walls of the studio, until-

“Anyone here?”

I blinked back the tears which had started to well in my eyes and sniffed, head shooting up just in time to spot a familiar giant ducking their head under the beam of the doorway, limbs following right after.

George entered but then stopped short when he spotted his manager stood by me, and I laughed to myself at the way the pair of them seemed to eye one another, before stepping in, “Didn’t hear you ring the buzzer.”

Kind eyes darted over to find my soft smile then, welcoming him in, and so George finally moved in closer, laying the jacket he wore to rest over one of the armchairs.

“Yeah, someone was just leaving and let me in.” He answered my unasked question, shrugging as he added, “Dunno whether they recognised me or if they just let anyone up.”

“Probably the second,” Jamie piped up, seemingly having broken himself from his previous bout of surprise, “This lot ‘round here don’t give much of a shit about crap like that.”

I rolled my eyes, but was glad to have a reason to smile slightly. “Or they spotted the BFG making his way over and wanted to avoid pissing him off.”

Jamie cackled whilst George just shot me a narrow-eyed look, “Hilarious. That pot just boiled?” He asked me as he wandered over. I nodded in turn and moved to grab him a cup, only faltering when he lowered my hand with his own and shook his head. “I got it.”

I dipped my head slightly, blinking before taking a step back to let him work. He made a quick go of it, rummaging around the cupboards briefly to find what he needed and only asking for the spoon I still held for some odd reason when he was near done.

Jamie appeared to have been watching him too, a calculating glaze to his eyes, and he chose that next moment to speak up, “How you been anyway, George? Not seen much of you lately.”

Something unspoken passed between them when George glanced over at him, but I couldn’t tell what.

“Good, busy.” Was what the taller decided on, throwing Jamie a quick smile when he crossed to toss his own teabag in the bin before settling on the counter to the left of me. “You?”

It almost sounded sarcastic, not how he said it but simply because he’d asked it at all, knowing everything that had recently occurred. It must have been a right nightmare for Jamie these last few days, what with him being the band’s main man.

Jamie just laughed though, goodnaturedly, though it was apparent that he was still trying to suss out what was going on, what with George’s sudden appearance. Seeing as I’d never once mentioned him to Jamie.

See, things with George had all started after that studio session Teddy had attended, followed by my wishing him a happy birthday just before Matty had gone and done what he did best. Wrecked it all.

Teddy had become all too smitten with the drummer since he’d first been introduced to the band and their many songs and music videos. He enjoyed the guitar he’d been gifted an awful lot, often playing with it and practising, but each time any sort of song played on the tele or the radio, or even in the car, it wasn’t hard to note the way Teddy instantly mimicked George’s swift movements, pretending to drum along to whatever beat heard.

George had messaged me on Instagram later that same day, seeing as how apparently Teddy’s appearance at the studio had stuck with him, and asked after him a little. It seemed strange worded like that, but George reckoned that Teds had a real streak of a musicality about him, even as young as he was, and wanted to see if Teddy would be up for learning some more.

Which had been a Godsend, honestly, what with how the next couple of days had gone down. I’d given him my number via dm just before the storm had started and then the afternoon that had followed the plethora of articles he’d called.

He’d asked how I was at first, almost consoling me in that easy way of his, so full of little words, which had been all too refreshing in truth.

I’d had texts and calls off of practically everyone I knew, even Ronan, the utter prick. And none had managed to soothe me quite like George’s had, seeing as the man had been there too. Not quite in my position, sure, but near enough. He’d even let a little of it slip when he’d popped on over that same day, bringing a bag of takeaway and a roll up drum mat as a gift for Teddy, who had been cooped up with me on the sofa for most of the afternoon.

The two of them had bonded over it rather quickly, Teddy having been caught off guard by George’s sincerity almost as much as I had been. But then I'd found myself getting to know the drummer too and very much appreciating the unnecessary gesture he’d made for me, even with the pair of us not knowing one another as well as we could have.

I had no idea what was going on between him and Matty, I hadn’t had the balls to ask, but he’d mentioned he hadn’t heard much of anything from him since the night of his party, as well as the fact that his girlfriend, Charli, had been just as annoyed with everything that had gone down.

I knew he’d be stopping by at some point today, we’d made plans to get lunch once he’d heard I was back at the studio on my own, but not recording. I reckoned he was concerned and this was his way of showing it, but it was hard to tell with him most of the time seeing as he’d made it out as though I was doing him a favour here. An effort I came to find I much appreciated.

“Work, you know how it is.” Jamie replied after a long pause. He was still standing in the same position he’d been in since George arrived, but seemed to move then, picking up what was left of his coffee and pouring what remained down the sink. “But I’d best be going, got a couple calls to make. You gonna be at the studio tomorrow?”

George hummed around his next sip, pulling away with only a dip of his chin. “Should be.”

Jamie smiled, nodding, “Good, I’ll let the rest of them know then.”

I caught George’s slight wince at that, though he didn’t protest his manager's comment. It made me wonder.

Jamie turned to me then, shucking on his jacket. I perked up, not having realised that he really was rushing to leave now. “Remember what I said, alright?”

I blinked, but then nodded. How could I forget? I wanted to ask, but instead said, “You don’t have to head out so quick.”

He sent me a reassuring grin as he flipped over the collar of his coat. “You won’t miss me much,” He then teased before roping me into a hug, “Weren’t lying when I said I had a couple calls though, so it’s best I get out of your hair whilst I still can.”

I smiled softly at the sound of his lighthearted chuckle and nodded before following him over to the door, “Stay safe.”

Jamie rolled his eyes, all too used to my typical parting now, though amused by it all the same. “Can’t promise anything.” He retorted with a smirk, shuffling over the threshold whilst his eyes flickered back to where George still stood once more. “So, about before?”

I inhaled shakily, though Jamie didn’t seem to notice, fingering the pockets of his jacket in search of his mobile. “I’ll think about it.” I told him.

He flashed me a grin at that, pleased, then let his heel trail over to meet the top step of the metal grating. “Talk to you later then.”

I nodded and watched for a second as he descended the staircase, head bobbing down the first set before he turned and disappeared from view. Sliding back inside, I shut the door quietly behind me, taking a second to steel my nerves before facing the room again.

During that time, George had seemingly gone and made himself comfy on the settee, his mug settled on a coffee table coaster. I moved to join him after putting both mine and Jamie’s cups under the tap to rinse before just leaving them to soak.

George was fiddling with something when I sat down beside him but shuffled over a tad to allow me to get more comfortable, “So what was that about?” I questioned.

“With Jamie?” He asked and I nodded, even though I reckoned he already knew what I was on about.

He shrugged slightly and I noted the way his finger trailed over a slip of folded paper, it was creased as though it had been played or fiddled with a dozen times too many. My brow seemed to furrow at the sight of it.

“He tried phoning a few times but I’ve not been too keen on answering, learnt that I’ll just get dragged into the drama if I do.” George finally answered, and for some reason I felt a wad of guilt pool in my stomach upon hearing it, even though I hadn’t been the one to cause this mess.

Or maybe I was just kidding myself.

“Sorry.”

George huffed as he turned to peer over at me, elbows resting on the tops of his knees. “Nothing to be sorry for.” He told me and then gifted me a sweet smile, “None of this is on you. Just thought we were in the clear, you know?” He looked away at that and his smile dimmed into something smaller, almost sadder. “Figured I wouldn’t have to go dodging my mates calls anymore, or be roped into cleaning up everyone else’s messes.”

He reached a hand out to settle on my knee then, probably having noticed the way I was chewing on the insides of my cheek, or maybe the fact that my lip was now trembling. I’d never felt so shitty. So at fault for something I hadn’t really seen coming, nor could I prevent.

“Not your fault, remember?” He reiterated to me, squeezing my joint softly before pulling away. I sniffed before looking up at him with a tiny smile.

“Promise I don’t usually cry this much. Just been a shitty week is all.” I told him, laughing pitifully as I toyed with the hem of the jumper I’d put on earlier that morning when I’d purposefully avoided the hoodie that had been left on my desk chair, as well as the cupboard full of clothes that didn’t belong to me.

I felt the settee dip slightly before I found him sitting right beside me, lifting an arm to wrap me up in a hug. His cheek came to rest on the side of my head and I felt my heart break that little bit more, because it reminded me that in a second, or two, I wouldn’t have that sense of protection he now offered, shielding me from the rest of the world.

“You’ve been put through the wringer.” George murmured and I had to laugh just a little bit, he laughed too, the sound of it reverberating through his chest to where my head rested. “Fucking cry if you want to, alright? No judgement here."

I spluttered a little on my next chuckle, smiling as I wiped at my eyes. George’s arm just tightened its hold by a fraction, as though he knew it would make things that little bit easier. We both sat there like that for a while, and I appreciated the fact that he was okay with a bit of quiet. That he didn’t run scared from it or try to start up an awkward conversation simply to fill it.

Silence was something I’d come to realise that George often favoured. Because sometimes that was all you really needed.

I don’t know how long we continued like that before he shuffled and pulled that same piece of paper from earlier back into view, holding the corner of it between his forefinger and thumb. I pulled away slightly, looking down at it and then back up at him with a small frown.

“What?”

George merely blinked, staring down at the paper with an odd look before he finally placed it in the hand I had resting on my thigh. My frown only deepened.

“What is it?” I asked him, finger trailing over an edge just as he had done when I’d first spotted it. When I went to unfold it from the opposing corner, he stopped me.

Confused, I turned to raise a brow at him, only to find him already looking back at me. He bit into his lower lip and then flattened his mouth into a stern line, “I found that when I was last in the studio.”

My chest tightened for some reason, but I was still so baffled. “Okay?”

We were sitting up better now, George’s arm having slipped from my shoulders to come to rest in his lap, fingers trailing over his left hand’s rigid set of knuckles.

“I figured you should see it.” He added in his usual drawl, though his eyes flickered up from the paper to catch mine then and I realised it must've been important. He seemed wary enough to warrant it.

I went to unfold it once again, but then his hand really reached out to stop my own, “I don’t know if I should be here when you do.”

That alone made me even more curious, although there was an edge of caution that now warred at me. “Why?”

George gifted me a gentle smile, the hand that still laid over top of my own squeezing kindly. “I’ll go grab us some food, alright? If you want to open it then do, if not. I won’t mention it again.”

He moved to stand then but my hand shot out to grab at the sleeve of his arm, “George.” But I didn’t know what else to say, I knew I was fearful though.

His fingers moved to meet mine, resting there for a short moment, “It’s your choice. Just, I couldn’t keep it from you.”

I swallowed thickly as he pushed to his feet, the scuff off his heavy boots bouncing off the hardwood floors. Slowly he moved to grab his jacket, giving me time to say no, to deny his offer. But I couldn’t, I couldn’t do much of anything really.

The door shut behind him with a soft click a minute later and the quiet of the studio suddenly consumed me. When I glanced back down at the paper I held once more I saw the slight tremble of my hands. I forced myself to exhale, but even that was shaky.

I was careful as I unfolded it, listening to the rustle it made before scrawled lines that had bled through to the other side caught my attention. Pausing, I took a moment to just look at them and then thoughtlessly hurried to reveal the rest of it, taking in its full form. My throat tightened at the sight of familiar scribbles.

You had me from the start Pulling all the stops out On the down low, secretly But I think you knew your psychology Was working on me Infatuated And doing this all wrong You've got My number and my name And you've got me going Yeah, you've got me going Can I see you every day? Do you love me Like I love you? Ah, you've got me going Yeah, you've got me going

(Song: Ride - Future Love)

It was as if something in me had shifted and then turned, sparking itself its very own flame on a bone too sharp and growing and growing until its singed edges burnt and blackened every part of me.

I must've sat there staring down at it for ages. Crying silently and alone in an empty room, something I’d been avoiding doing since this had all started. Though I supposed it had been inevitable.

His words. His thoughts. Bared to me on a single page. Him none the wiser to any of it. Probably having not even realised it was gone, or missing. And George had read it. He’d seen it and still, after everything, had given them to me.

A tear dropped from my chin then, blotting the page and I could only watch on as the dark ink appeared to cling to it, seeping further and further into the paper. Smudging the ‘Do you love me’ enough so that my breath stuttered and I was suddenly moving all too quickly for my mind to catch up with my thoughtless actions.

Not even a second later my phone was in my hand.

Messages now To: Jamie O (glasses!) When can he meet me?

–

Matty had always had a thing for Sundays.

There was just something about them. Not all that Godly shite that people preached about it being holy and the first day of the week, ‘cause to him Monday would always hold that title- and Monday’s fucking sucked dick.

No, it was because there was just something peaceful that settled on Sundays, it took him back to simpler times, of days when he’d just been a kid and roast dinners were spent ‘round his nana’s house. Or when Newcastle would play on afternoons and his dad would finally be home to watch with him.

There was just something about them, you know. He didn’t much believe in luck, typically only the bad sort. But if someone held a gun to his head and told him he had to claim a day which would forever work in his favour, it would just have to be Sunday.

Still, he was unsure on where he currently stood with that sentiment as of late. Seeing as how he was currently in the backseat of a cab, jittery hands clinging onto shaking knees whilst rows of houses, broken up by hues of green and blue, rolled on past him.

It hadn’t been a last minute thing, but it felt much like it. The anticipation was getting to him, he knew that much, sweat licking at the back of his neck whilst his shoulders worked their way up to the lobes of his ears.

Jamie had somehow managed it.

Called him up late last night just before Ross had headed off to bed to tell him that she would finally see him. Jamie’d asked if he’d be alright going alone or if they’d prefer a buffer there, but Matty had immediately declined. So he was doing it alone. Though he couldn’t help but wonder if that had been a misstep on his part, if it would have made things easier on her having someone there, or maybe just given him some semblance of relief as the car slowly drove its way over to her house. The very place he hadn’t stepped foot in since the night of George’s birthday party.

But he hadn’t earnt that reassurance. Felt wrong to bring somebody else along either way. So he was stuck, toying with his phone, hoping or praying that a text wouldn’t come through saying that she’d gone and changed her mind.

It had been just under a week since he’d last seen her. But it felt as though time had dragged out slowly, mocking him or maybe even torturing him for all of his many wrongdoings.

He fretted over what she might say when she caught sight of him, he himself having only spotted the state he’d worked himself into when he’d been getting ready that morning.

There were heavy bags set beneath his eyes from where he hadn’t really slept and his cheeks were hollowed in that way that they used to revert to when he’d have a particularly hard weekend way back when. If the papers caught wind of him he already knew what the first articles would say, what they would so obviously claim. But he knew the truth, just hoped that she would know it too.

He was startled from his mind at the jerk of the car pulling up onto the nearest curb. His eyes widened in sudden alarm when he realised just what that meant and then caught the look of dismay that crossed the driver’s face when the bloke looked back to announce that they’d arrived. If the man didn’t already think he was on something, then now he definitely did.

Matty swallowed stupidly and then tried for a smile, struggling to undo his seatbelt with the kickstart of shaking that overtook his hands. The driver took pity on him though, turning away to fiddle with something up front that probably didn’t need fiddling with, and finally Matty’s thumb managed to catch the button.

Releasing himself from the confines of the car, he paused just before the door could slam close behind him, handing the man a couple notes in tip, if only to apologise for his edgy behaviour or buy himself a little more time if the driver had somehow managed to suss him out even with his hat, hood and scarf. “Cheers.” He said.

The man blinked at the onslaught of cash and then nodded repeatedly, “Yes, thank you.”

Matty exhaled shakily and then dipped his chin in another goodbye, stepping back onto the curb and watching the cab pull away before he found himself alone once more.

This was it, he supposed.

The street hadn’t changed much in a matter of days but his mind made it seem as though it had. As though suddenly he didn’t belong. The odd man out.

He shoved his hands into the confines of his pockets, pivoting on his heel to face what he’d come here to do. But nothing had prepared him for the way his stomach suddenly bottomed out at the sight of her front door.

The sound of a car horn a way away spooked him, causing him to jump, but did eventually force him forward off the curb and onto the cracked pavement. He stared down at all the dips and curves they had to offer him the entire way up the path until finally, he reached her front steps.

If anyone asked, Matty would tell them it was as though he’d been working on autopilot when he pried the silver knocker up from the wood and let it rap twice. Though that would be an utter lie. His head screamed at him the whole while and his fingers blurred before him when he’d raised them up to grasp at the chilled metal.

He’d never felt so sick, just standing there, the seconds slowly trickling into minutes, or perhaps even hours. It honestly felt as the day was slowly growing colder the longer that he stood there, staring at a coat of familiar paint, before finally hinges creaked and the door opened, revealing a sight that would’ve surely cured sore eyes, if only it hadn’t gone and broken his heart first.

It wasn’t immediate, the effect the past couple days had had on her. It was more in the way she held herself, the sadness which clung to her every fibre, the way she wouldn’t quite look him in the eye.

She stared, caught in a standstill, and for a long moment did nothing before silently and slowly she withdrew enough to allow him through.

Matty didn’t dare utter a word, let alone breathe. Careful to avoid brushing against her or stepping on her toes as he slowly crossed over the threshold to get in, though the hands he’d hidden in his coat pockets curled into fists to keep himself steady.

The first thing he noted upon first entering was the significant state of the flat, it wasn’t messy or untidy by any means, but looked nothing at all like a house typically inhabited by a child should, or at least a monster as chaotic as he knew Teddy to be. It was almost as though Mouse had been expecting a letting agent to pass through with a couple dozen couples, what with how clean it was. He almost reckoned that if he were to crouch down right there he’d probably be able to make out the seam of his jeans in the reflection of the floors.

“You can just hang your-”

“I know.” Matty whispered, not intentionally meaning to cut her off but unable to help himself anyway.

It hurt, feeling as though he was just a guest in a place he had practically considered home not too long ago. He coughed lightly and shrugged off his coat to do so anyway, hanging it up where he usually did, something which made him pause for a split second, wondering whether this could possibly be the last time he’d have the privilege of doing so.

“Right.” Mouse murmured somewhere behind him, snapping Matty out of his thoughts. She stepped on by him just after, eyes trained on the end of the hallway until they reached the living room, “Erm, I’m just starting on a brew. You can wait here if you want.”

He wanted to follow after her, to fall down onto his knees and fucking sob there at her feet, but he was scared he’d dirty her floors or more than likely end up looking like a total knob. He would. Fucking felt like one just from thinking it. So he did as instructed, moving towards the sofa, taking note of everything and anything the room had to offer him.

Matty’s eyes flickered over to the kitchen doorway when he realised she’d stopped there, fiddling with her nails before she caught him looking and dropped her hands. “Just realised I didn’t ask if you wanted anything.”

God, it was so fucking strained.

He took a short breath in and attempted to smile, “Tea sounds good.” Was all that he said, and watched on as her brow wrinkled, head tilting with it.

“Uh, I still have that coffee you like. The one you brought over, if you’d prefer.” She told him and he recognised her confusion for what it was, or maybe it was just her weariness over letting him know that his stuff was still where he’d left it. Or, maybe, just fucking maybe he was reading way too much into everything.

“Tea’s good.” Matty murmured, feeling a little less tense now that he knew that she was sort of sitting in the same boat. “But thanks.”

Her chest rose and fell with her next breath and he watched her nod with difficulty at him, still not meeting his eye. “Right, just be a sec then.”

She disappeared past the door with that, whilst he simply stood and listened to the run of the tap and then the flick of the kettle, feeling stupid for having missed something he hadn’t even realised he’d taken note of before.

But that was just typical, wasn’t it? To miss something so mundane now that it was no longer expected.

Once he heard the clink of mugs Matty allowed his gaze to roam, trailing over the bundle of neatly folded throws settled on the wicker basket by the sofa, ones he knew that if Teddy was here would still be scattered all over the floor before the tv.

There were a couple of coasters laid out on the coffee table, though the fruit bowl had since been removed, something he knew Mouse did whenever there were only a few pieces left or none at all. There would probably be grapes or something of the sort in the fridge though.

She had a couple of receipts left out on the shelf below the mirror she’d hung up on the wall when she’d first moved in, and the picture frames beside them were still the same. Only one was missing, and he knew which.

He noticed that the candles over by the lamp were new though, expensive if he remembered rightly because he was sure that he’d spotted them round someone else’s place recently. He wondered briefly over who could’ve gifted them to her, knowing that she much preferred her usual scents, only ever splurging on the larger Yankee Candle jars they had to offer in the local Debenhams.

He found himself smiling at the thought.

It was then that she shuffled back into the room though, stalling his observations. She carried two mugs in her hand and a small plate loaded with biscuits on her forearm. Immediately Matty moved to help her, taking the plate from her even with knowing that she had it handled.

“I could’ve managed.” She murmured, though not unkindly, and then thanked him quietly once she’d gone and placed the mugs down.

Matty followed her lead, settling the biscuits near the edge of the coffee table, between the two coasters, before fumbling for a second over where to sit. Squeaks seemed to take to one end of the settee so Matty perched on the other, though closer to the middle crease than the arm.

“You got hobnobs?” Matty finally asked, breaking the silence again, eyes flicking over to the plate he’d just held before shooting back over to find her.

She blushed faintly at his comment, then shrugged. “You like them, don’t you?”

Matty scoffed lightly, a soft smile limning his lips, “Yeah, but you hate them. Once claimed that they were like digestives only after being shat out.”

She wrinkled her nose at that, though Matty was quite sure he could spot the mirth that flickered across her face. “Want them or not?”

Rolling his eyes in fond exasperation and knowing not to push it, he picked one up and settled in a little more comfortably into the sofa cushions.

The silence would’ve been almost unbearable if she hadn’t had the foresight to have turned the tv on low before he’d arrived. So whilst a documentary played on one of the many BBC channels, Matty struggled with himself to find the best thing to say. Though he needn’t have bothered, she was always one step ahead.

“So, I think I should start by saying that I um, I know I held a lot of expectations.”

Almost simultaneously, Matty frowned.

She just wrung her hands together once before thinking better of it and laying them flat in her lap. Matty merely wished to reach out and take them in his own. “And I get that it must’ve been a struggle for you, to basically go from like one end of a scale and then jump right off the other side. But, I-”

“What are you on about?” Matty interrupted, unable to help himself in truth, so beyond baffled by the sudden speech she’d started. She stopped and blinked over at him, finally looking him in the eye. At last.

“What do you mean?” She retorted with a pinch between her brows, “Listen, I planned this all out, alright? So can I just get out what I want to say?”

Matty stared, then forced out a breath of air. “Squeaks,” She shuttered at the name, closing off slightly, enough so that Matty took quick note and wished he hadn’t said a thing, but yet, he still carried on. Desperate to save any blundered attempt he’d make. “Look, this weren’t on you. None of it was, okay?”

Her eyes trailed back over towards him at that, though her expression was almost unreadable. Matty struggled with that bit the most, he’d always been able to read her for the most part.

“So, this crap about expectations and me struggling with whatever idea you’ve made up in your mind is stupid.” Her eyes narrowed then and he watched her work her jaw, obviously none too happy about his retort. He withheld a heavy sigh, “I’m not- Look, I’m not trying to be difficult I’m just saying that- What I’m trying to say is, that every relationship has goals or expectations, that’s normal. But nothing you ever did forced me do what I did. That shit? It was all on me. It was me being insecure and scared, yeah? So, don’t go trying to excuse it. Because I’ve had people do that for me for far too fucking long now and hearing it come from you...”

He sort of felt himself slump at that, a little bitter and resentful over the fact that she’d since come to think of it that way. As though his mistakes were all just down to her and her inability to do right by him. He realised though, belatedly, that if anyone else had done exactly that, or even attempted to, in any other scenario he just might have taken up the offer and ran with it. But this was her, this was Squeaks.

She was quiet for a time, then she picked up her mug, eyes trained on the movement of it before, “What then?”

“What?” Matty frowned once more, shuffling forward in his seat in an attempt to catch her eye again.

“Why did you do it then? Why’d you lie, why didn’t you tell me about Teddy?”

That knot he’d been feeling for weeks now. The one at the very end of his tongue, all tied and tangled in the back of his throat, suddenly shrivelled up and slackened, leaving a bitter aftertaste and a plethora of guilt behind.

Matty’s gaze wandered over to the window, to where Teddy’s guitar sat in its stand just before a heavy set of grey curtains. He withheld the urge to pick at his nails as he searched for the right words to give her, wanting so honestly to tell her the truth, to give her a play by play of what had happened in detail, as well as every thought that had gone through his mind.

“It wasn’t what it looked like for a start.”

Mouse scoffed a little at that, and Matty couldn’t be mad at it. If he was sat on the other end of this he’d been doing more than just that, he’d be up in arms, tossing shit about and raving to all who would listen.

Still, his eyes trailed down to where his hands now laid in his lap and he pressed his thumb to his palm. “We were on the highstreet, on the way back here.” He started, voice quiet as his stare tracked the faint lines of his hand, “The guy you saw in the pictures came out of nowhere really. Me and Teds had just been at that ice cream shop a way down, I didn’t even spot him until he was there, in my face.”

Matty wet his lower lip, mouth suddenly going dry. Mouse just waited.

“Teddy was quick to hide behind me, you know? The loudmouth didn’t even really notice him until the last minute. But you have to know, all I wanted was to get him out of there. To avoid staying too long and attracting the wrong sort of attention. Okay? So I’d said I had to get going as soon as he'd spoken, told him I didn’t have time to stay and chat.”

He took a quick breath with that, eyes still centred on the deepest groove of his palm. “But then he, then he brought up Luke. Said something about the funeral he didn't go to and wanting to celebrate his life.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Squeaks’s hands still from their previous bout of fidgeting. “But I told him I was clean. He didn’t believe me at first, which,” Matty huffed out a self-deprecating laugh, “Well, I can’t blame him for that, what with my track record.”

He heard her inhale then and looked up, it seemed as though she was going to say something but thought better. So Matty bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from asking before he exhaled slowly, digging a nail into that groove.

“He got a bit aggy, started calling me a toff and whatnot, because I 'spose I was just a rich boy who bought him a couple grams of coke every now and then.” He clucked his tongue thinking about it, but eventually shrugged. “Then I don’t know, he must’ve looked down or something ‘cause that’s when he,” Matty paused and his gaze shot over to her, then away again, “That’s when he spotted Teddy.”

Mouse wrinkled her mouth, then tried to nod, obviously wanting him to continue. Though she kept her eyes trained on the rim of her mug.

“That’s when he said some shit and I reacted.”

“Said what?”

Matty startled a little at the sound of her question but was hasty in his attempt to answer. “Just, he reckoned that Teddy was mine and that I had to have knocked someone up. So now they were just using me for the money.”

Her eyes slipped closed and her fingers tightened their grip on her cup.

Swallowing thickly, Matty went to continue, “I shoved him and told him to do one- that’s what they caught in those photos. I didn't take anything he offered, I didn't even look back after. Just walked away, thinking of Teddy, trying to get him out of there. The bloke, he kept on shouting, saying some crap about this and that. But I carried on walking.”

Matty was proud of that fact, even with everything that had happened since. Not too long ago, a different version of him would have handled it all too severely. It was a step, a tiny one, sure, but it was progress.

“Then what?” Mouse voiced, prompting him along with just a look.

“Then we walked home.” Matty replied, feeling that familiar cloud of shame dawn over him. “We didn’t really speak, I- I was a bit of a mess, trying to figure out what to do next, what to tell Teddy, to say to make it right again. But Teds, he,” Matty hauled in his next breath, all too fucking close to bawling, that he could admit. “He called for me and I looked down at him. All I could say was sorry, Mouse.”

She nodded tightly, the knuckles she had wrapped around her tea cup had whitened.

“He,” Matty felt the corners of his mouth lift as he remembered the bittersweet memory of Teddy trying to soothe him, “He told me it was alright, that we were okay, but I just kept on saying sorry. He said that the bloke was just a bad man, and I assured him of that. Wanting him to know that we were okay, that the guy was long gone. But then he-”

Matty stopped altogether then, a picture of Teddy's little face coming to the forefront of his mind, and Squeaks immediately took note.

“Then what?”

Her eyes were so full of emotion, but which ones he wasn’t too sure. Still, the sight tightened every muscle in his chest as he forced himself to finish what he’d started. “He said we couldn’t tell you.”

Matty knew he couldn’t have imagined the sharp inhale that sounded from her then, as though she'd just received a blow to the chest. And he so desperately wanted to reach out, to wrap her up and just fucking hold her. But he couldn't. It wasn't his place.

He watched on as she licked at her top lip though, blinking back the wetness that shone in her eyes, “Why?” Her voice cracked on the question but she did not cry.

It was a simple answer. “He didn’t want to hurt you.”

Mouse stood then, placing the cup down with some force before she hastily made her way over to the front window. Matty stayed seated, unsure if he��d be welcome near her.

“It fucking broke me, Squeaks.” He admitted after a moment, his lips now tingled with the sheer amount of effort it took for him to not let his emotions get the better of him. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You should have told me.” Was her reply, sharp and cutting, enough that it fucking wounded. Because Matty knew that she was right.

“I know.” He answered.

“You should have fucking told me, Matty!” She repeated, turning then to face him. He saw the tremble of her shoulders, the curve of her mouth and how it quaked. He stared, couldn't bring himself to look away.

“I know.”

He swallowed, throat almost aching as much as the hole that made up the majority of his chest.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

“I don't know.” He murmured, mostly to himself.

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