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luimagines · 3 years ago

Note

Coul I request the chain reacting to meeting the reader who is Wild's sibling? (If background is needed shrieks science and them whatever purchase did so the reader is just sorta- 15-28 )

Masterlist

I don't understand the second sentence but I think I can infer what you're trying to say. And even then, I came up with a backstory that more less fixes it regardless so yay!

Wild is everyone's favorite chaotic creative sibling!

And I went for older sibling because reasons and just assume that sibling! Reader is in their early twenties.

Content under the cut!

You woke up one day in Hateno village, quietly aware of the silence that echoed through your house.

You miss your brother.

Not that he was here often with his Goddess given assignment nor did he even know who you were for the first half of it.

What a day that was.

Your little brother back from the dead, scars and all and then some... but he had no idea who you were.

It hurt to say the least. But you were told it would happen once the news reached you. He would wake up one day to finish his duty but he would not remember anything regarding his past life.

Even when he found you again, after he somehow remembered you, you didn’t know where to begin.

You just knew that you were so happy to be together again after so long that you hugged him as tight as you could and told him that your door was always open.

To say you both cried is the understatement of the century. It was wet and ugly and messy and neither of you really talk about it but it felt good that day.

And while you both knew he couldn’t stay for long with his adventure being no where near complete. He did come home for the night after he set that travel medallion of his by the front door.

But that was then- before the Calamity was defeated.

Now that it’s gone- so is your brother. Again.

On a different quest this time, it seems.

You don’t understand why your baby brother of all people has to be the one to do it and you would like nothing more than to wrap him up in a blanket and shield him from anything else that comes to hurt him- but he never let you do that as a child- let alone now.

You begin the day like any other and try to get as many mundane chores done as you can before you finally try and get the stable in the back fixed up.

You noticed Link had an affinity to horses and had checked in with the nearest stable to see that he had some lodged under his name.

There’s a place at the house, darn it. Lodge them here. It just needs to be fixed.

With your goal in mind, you lose yourself to the work and the time passes effortlessly.

It’s around noon by the time you hear it.

The familiar sound of activation that gets your heart pounding in relief and unbridled joy.

You drop your hammer and run to the front of the house with the largest grin on your face. “You’re back, you Rug Rat! Come here!”

You single him out instantly amongst the group and tackle him in a hug.

He’s long stopped trying to fight on you on this and has also returned your crushing hug with one of his own. “I’m back.”

“You brought friends too.” You grin and give the group a two fingered salute. “And here I was afraid that this loner child would end up dead in a ditch somewhere and I would be none the wiser. Thank you for looking after my little brother. I’m aware he’s a handful.”

“Ok thanks.” He says.

“Little brother?” Someone from the group asks. They’re lost amongst the sea of head but you nod regardless.

“Yup. I remember the day he was born like it was yesterday.” You grin and put your hands on your hips, introducing yourself right after. “Any friend of Link’s is a friend of the family. Come in, come in. Make yourselves at home. It’s not much but it’s ours. Been in the family since before the calamity struck. Let me wash up a bit and then we can get some food going, yeah?”

“I’ll start up the stove.” Link says and you’re about to disagree. After all, he just got home and should rest while he can but he ahs the most unburdened smile on his face that you can’t bring yourself to deny him.

“Alright.” You sigh and head to the back where the shower is. It’s always been small and a bit cramped and the door stopped fitting correctly about ten years ago but now that’s it’s not just you anymore, you can go around into the giving the house the TLC it deserves.

But you’re starting with the stable in the back.

When you’re finished and you’ve dried yourself off, you get into the house to find it in a delightful array of colors and chaos.

Each of the boys seemed to have made themselves completely at home in the time you were gone and you leaned against the door frame, watching them all interreact.

Your brother didn’t waste any time with getting the stove up and running. You can smell the beginning of lunch getting cooked and it appears that Link has wrangled two of the boys to be his helpers. One appears to be the youngest with bright wide eyes and a similar blue tunic to that of Links and the other looks to be slightly more timid in the process. He’s around the same height as Link but darker hair and a long white cape still clasped around his shoulders.

You recognize the Master Sword strapped to his back.

Making a note of that you look around the room again. Three of them have made themselves comfortable at the table. One is easily the biggest guy of the group, red and blue tattoos on his face and scar over his eye as he watches the others go about the admittedly small house. The other two look to be the same size and you’re sure you can look them in the eye if you needed to. They’re talking to both each other and the group that’s cooking. One has a wolf pelt on his shoulder with more tattoos on his face and other is a knight if you’ve ever seen one with a bright blue scarf around his neck.

You’re not one to judge your brother’s friends but you make a mental note to watch him in case he tries anything.

Two of the boys- one with pink hair and the other have the most solid brown mane of the whole group have made themselves spares and are talking quietly to each other and not making a fuss.

The final one looks to be the smallest but he’s got an older glint to his eye that recognize well. He’s wearing arguably the most color tunic of the group with those four patches sewn together. He’s tucked himself away into a corner with a book out, not interacting with either of them outright but he has been looking up and adding his two cents to the older’s conversation at the table.

They don’t notice you’re back which is a testament to how tired they all must be.

They’re an interesting bunch.

But Link did always surround himself with interesting people.

So you’re not really surprised.

“Sooo...” Pinky starts off, calling your bother’s attention. “You have an older sibling?”

“Yup!” He answers, not looking up from the pot. “They were waiting for me the whole time, and even manage to keep the house. Up keep still needs to be done but we’ve been working on it together.”

“But they’re older.”

“Yes. We’ve established this.”

You have to hold back your snort.

“You were asleep for one hundred years.” Four Patches speaks up, closing his book silently. ”Shouldn’t they... ummm...”

“Be dead?”

“Or at least really old?” Mr. Brunette hops in, trying to lessen the blow of the sentence.

“You’re like one hundred and seven teen right? Wouldn’t that put them at being one hundred and twenty something?” Wolf boy offers.

“I guess so. Yeah. They were old at some point.” Link stops stirring and you can see him try to run the numbers in his head. “I know that much. The village talks about them being really old sometimes, but I guess that was years ago because it’s only from the older folk that live here.”

“But they lived through those one hundred years, didn’t they?” Blue Baby Face speaks this time.

“That’s what they told me.”

“So....” The knight tilts his head and tries to put his hands out as if that would help answer the question. “They’re like the Old Man then? Old in their head but young on the outside.”

“You can say that, yeah.” You say and take extreme satisfaction at the way most of the jump at your voice. “Unlike Link, I was alive the whole time he was asleep. I’ve got grandkids in Lurelin and they visit from time to time but someone had to at least keep the house up and running, might as well have been me.”

“I...” Link starts as he takes the food off the burner. “I never asked you how you stayed young, did I?”

“Nope.”

“Oh.” He looks away and deflates a little. Link looks a little disappointed with himself and that won’t stand in this house.

“I didn’t realize it was that important. And I’m going to assume you’ve explained most of the situation Rug Rat.” You laugh a little with a raised eyebrow. “You can blame Purah. You know she wanted to find a way to keep the old from aging, right? It’s why she’s in the body of a little kid again. But when she tried the second formula she realized that if she tried it on herself that it might as well but poof her back into a baby and she wanted to contact Robbie but he’s too far and too old to make that trip. I volunteered.”

“Really?”

“It still didn’t really work, I was transformed into a teenager instead of a child- a horrible time to exist really. But I suppose it was a blessing in disguise. By the time this one-” You step into the house fully and ruffle Link’s hair. “-came back, it left us with the same age gap as before. So in the end I can’t complain.”

“Why’d you volunteer?” Cape guy leans on the wall. “There’s only so many times you can test it, right? Who’s to say it wouldn’t have been worse?”

“Yeah, what if it did transform you into a baby again and you forgot everything?” Four Patches stands up and comes to stand by the table, putting his book on top of it.

“I wanted to take the risk.” you shrug and pull your brother into a hug. “Is it a crime to want to see my baby brother again not matter the cost?”

“Get off.” He whines.

You laugh but do as he asks. “It was never said when he’d be back. Only that he would. I was willing to buy as much time as needed to be there for him.”

“I didn’t remember you...” He mutters to himself.

“You now, don’t you?” You punch him gently. “We’ve talked about this. It’s ok. I knew it was going to happen. It wasn’t going to stop me. Ganon himself couldn’t properly get rid of me. I’m not leaving your side anytime soon.”

He smiles and turns to hug you.

“Now where’s your wolf friend?” You ask. “Are you still traveling together? There’s something I wanted to give him.”

Wolf Pelt shimmies in his seat for a second but you don’t think much of it.

Link shakes his head. “Not right now but he has been coming by every now and then.”

“Well it’s good he’s still around to look after you then in my stead.”

“We have a horse though.” Link tilts his head up to grin at you. “It’s not the same but her name is Epona.”

Familiarity stabs you in the heart and you know it’s something that Link even remember even if he lives another one hundred years.

He was too little when she passed.

“...Like dad’s old horse. Can I see her?” You say with a light constriction in your throat. “How crazy would it be if they looked alike?”

“Dad had a horse?”

“You wouldn’t remember her, you were too little. I barely remember her as it is but yes, he did.” You take a step back and motion back towards the door. “Maybe after lunch you show me. We can bring her to the back and measure up how the stable is. I’ve been fixing it up.”

“Really!?” Link blinks, an excited glint appearing in his eyes.

“Yes. That’s what I was doing when you first came in. But let’s eat first.” You put your hand to the small of his back and push him gently in the direction of the table. “And then you can tell me about your friends and this new adventure of yours.”

#linked universe x reader #linkeduniverse #lu wild #it's a bit longer than the other one shots #and yet i think it's the most uneventful #let me know what you guys think #linked universe

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greensaplinggrace · 3 years ago

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So you mentioned in another post that you have some strong thoughts on Baghra, especially about how the story frames her as one of the good guys. I would love to hear about it.

@youremotionallystablefriend: I would love to hear you rant about Baghra if you feel like it (and haven’t already)! Personally I don’t think she gets enough constructive critique in the fandom for being the one that brought Aleks up and for the way she treated her pupils and especially Alina :/

Anon: Hello! I love your thoughts on the grisha books. I'm actually interested to hear your take on Baghra

@misku-nimfa: If you are up for it, I would love to read your thoughts on Baghra or your full critique of society in the Grishaverse. Your analysis is really well structured and interesting! ^.^

Anon: Hi! I saw your recent post and was wondering if you'd share more of your thoughts on Baghra?

---

Hello everyone! I was honestly very surprised to see so many people interested in my thoughts on Baghra? I'll share what I can, but please know that this is by no means a full breakdown of her character! It’s just some Thoughts I’ve had, and they’re mostly centered around show Baghra because that’s how I was first introduced to her character. Although IMO book Baghra might actually be even worse.

I’d like to preface this by saying that many of my issues with the treatment of Baghra as a character in fandom come from the wild double standard there seems to be regarding her and the Darkling. Darkling Antis and a vast majority of the people in this fandom who don’t like his character have a disturbing habit of absolutely ripping into the Darkling for all of his faults and then turning around and treating Baghra as some sort of pristine mother figure for the exact same shit.

They’ll talk about how badass she is, how strong she is, how they sympathize with her past (although they’ll continue to dehumanize the Darkling and refuse to sympathize with his own past) and sympathize with the fact that she has to deal with the Darkling (who’s always referred to as a monster she must corral or control, as if he is inhumane and beastly. These particular comments always take on the very distinct tone of victim blaming as well). They’ll laud her for all of these “powerful girlboss” moments as if they aren’t carbon copies of the Darkling’s own behavior - as if they aren’t things Baghra herself taught him. Which is why this is the wildest double standard of all to me, because every horrible action they praise Baghra for is something she taught the Darkling, and something they cannot stand to see in him as well.

It’s as if there’s a disconnect between their consumption of the literature when it comes to the two characters, and I’m of the opinion that it’s largely because Baghra is a woman and a mother and therefore infantilized in the fandom quite a bit. In fact, Bardugo herself often infantilizes many of her female characters in her writing. This is mostly through the process of excusing their terrible deeds, not allowing them to do anything remotely dark, or brushing any morally grey actions under the rug without ever touching upon them. Which puts me in the strange position of knowing I’m supposed to sympathize with Baghra for having to deal with the monster she’s created, and instead feeling resentful of the fact that this bitter woman is held up as this wise old strict teacher instead of the abusive mentor/mother she should have been.

Now, here’s what I said to make so many of you send me asks:

Last note, in reference to your first line, and also probably a pretty unpopular opinion. I do not like Baghra. And it legit has nothing to do with the Darkling or with Alina, I just don't like her "I'm going to hit you and berate you and emotionally abuse you and manipulate you and act like the good guy at the end of it" vibe she's got going on. At least Aleksander is acknowledged as the villain within the narrative. Idk wtf Baghra is on but it's absolutely wild to me that people aren't more critical of her actions. Which is, rather fortunately for you, another rant I will save for another post if anybody ever wants to hear it lol. (but like kudos to Baghra's actress. I loved the character as a character, I just don't like the way she's framed as a good guy. Weird. Uncomfortable. She literally set bees on the kids she was teaching).

This basically summarizes most of my thoughts on Baghra as a character and how she’s portrayed. I touched on it a bit above, but the way she’s able to get away with so much and not suffer under heavier critique is honestly baffling to me. There should be a lot more criticism of her out there in the fandom. This is the woman who abused her students and neglected her son. Although to be honest I don’t even know how to quite describe the emotionally neglectful yet unhealthily codependent bond she fostered in him from a young age. IMO, Baghra’s behavior around Aleksander is creepy, and I know she has a history that makes it more understandable, but it’s still incredibly disconcerting to witness.

But let’s get back on track! First of all, her students. Whom she physically, emotionally, and mentally abuses. She’s derisive, she’s insulting, she’s belittling. She works hard to strip them of any self confidence they may have. She uses pain as a means of triggering powers. And the strict teacher excuse doesn’t fly. The “it’s only a training method!” excuse is even worse. This is literal abuse she’s heaping on her students and it’s wretched.

The first thing she does to Alina when they first meet is insult her. Then she hits her. Then she kicks her out.

Second time they interact is a montage. Baghra hits Alina multiple times. She shames her. And then when Alina actually calls a light she tells her it’s not nearly enough, effectively wiping the smile off of her face and every sign of self confidence that had been building. Then we see the door to Baghra’s hut shut in Alina’s face. So now she has been bruised, battered, berated, stripped of all self confidence, and then banished again. As training methods go, this is not only entirely ineffective, but it’s also just abusive.

Then we get this interaction between Alina and her friends:

Marie: One time, Baghra released a hive of bees on me. Nadia: Worst part is, it worked. Marie: It really did. I could summon at will after that.

Which is fucking horrifying and not talked about nearly enough. That goes beyond hitting your students. Baghra used a fear tactic on a young girl to activate her powers. She literally tortured Marie to make her powers work.

Alina throughout this conversation is looking very disheartened. She’s lacking in any self confidence and the comment about the bees has clearly affected her. For someone who’s first words to Alina were “Everyone believes that you are the one. Come back when you believe it too,” Baghra doesn’t exactly seem keen on Alina actually believing she’s the one. If she did, she wouldn’t be stripping her of every positive emotion associated with sun summoning.

Let’s not forget that Baghra demeans Alina multiple times for her status as an orphan. How she utilizes what she knows of Alina’s emotional weaknesses to provoke her and discourage her and make her angry.

And then Baghra drugs her without consent. To take advantage of any information Alina gives her in that state. To use the way Alina reacts for her own ends.

Because why else would she say this?:

Alina: We planned to run away together. Baghra: You had plans. Perhaps he never did, because where is he now?

Which is, strangely enough, the same sense of isolation and separation from Mal and her past that Aleksander is attempting to foster. Weird how mother and son are both using the same manipulation tactics.

In fact, why does Baghra never tell Alina about the letters until she’s already engaged with Aleksander? Baghra must have known he was taking them. Alina talks about it enough. Baghra must have known he was isolating her from Mal. How could she not, when it’s revealed later that she has spies in the Little Palace collecting information on him? How could she not, when she knows he’s the villain from the beginning - when she knows he’s manipulating Alina?

Baghra knows, and yet she keeps the same lies Aleksander does and furthermore uses that information to make Alina feel even more isolated and weak. Baghra literally just piggy-backs on Aleksander’s manipulation and then exacerbates it. She wants Alina to feel no attachments to her past because she wants to use Alina as well. But for some reason, because this manipulation and treatment of Alina as some sort of tool is done by the woman who opposes the Darkling, it’s suddenly okay. As if it still isn’t the same terrible shit but with a different perpetrator. I mean damn, at least Aleksander feels something for Alina. Baghra’s just cold.

So, point by point. Baghra mentions how Mal doesn’t care for Alina, she mentions Alina’s failings constantly, she mentions Alina being an orphan, she constantly hits her, she guilts Alina about orphans dying, she works to instill a sense of isolation from her friends and her family.

And when Alina finally comes to Baghra, having decided to abandon her attachments to her past and her attachments to Mal, the words that ring in her head are Baghra's words - “needing anyone else is weak.” Which is honestly just a horrible sentiment in general, but an even worse one when considering how hard these people are working to detach Alina from anybody who can help her or give her an outside perspective.

Strangely, it’s also similar to this line:

The problem with wanting, is that it makes us weak.

...which is spoken by Baghra’s son. You know, the Darkling? Our big bad villain? The one Baghra raised?

Which gives me the impression that Baghra’s teaching methods with her students are really not that far off from the teaching methods she used on him as he was growing up. It’s a horrifying thought, and leads into my problems with her relationship with Aleksander.

First of all, show wise. What the fuck.

Aleksander: They’re punishing us for being Grisha. Baghra: Punishing you. You made him afraid. Now he wants you to fear him. Aleksander: I won a war for him. Baghra: And in doing so, started a war on us.

I get that she’s trying to convey how the king feels here, but it still feels incredibly victim blamey from a narrative standpoint. It isn’t Aleksander’s fault the king fears him when he used his powers under the King’s banner to help him win a war. Aleksander trusted this man who betrayed him and then betrayed his people, and we get a line from his mother, entirely unsympathetic, talking about how it’s his fault all of these people are dying.

Baghra: Where’s the girl, your healer? Aleksander: Dead. She died because of me. Baghra: She died because they always do. They’re not as strong as you and me.

Baghra’s use of the term ‘girl’ and ‘healer' here instead of Luda is pretty telling. She either doesn’t like Luda or doesn’t care for her. Either way, this is the woman her son loves, and Baghra talks about her so dispassionately. Then he comments on Luda’s death and there’s no reaction except to say that they always do.

Like, her son is literally broken up over here. Grieving. Desperate. Run ragged. Caged and hunted. Feeling guilty as hell. Mind running through a million different ways he could possibly save all of these people. And Baghra offers him nothing except a paltry “people die, get over it, we’re better than that, she didn’t matter anyway.”

Honestly, how is Aleksander even still functioning at this point? He has no support system and he’s working against a king and his army to protect a group of civilians he could easily abandon to save himself. The sheer amount of responsibility and mental strain keeping track of a group alone entails is already monstrous, but adding in every other factor? The recent death of Luda, the fact that they’re cornered and they’ve been hunted down while fleeing across the land, the fact that he was just a couple hours ago forced to his knees and entirely at these men’s mercy, begging for Luda’s life. And here his mother is, if anything a negative support system. Offering no other ideas, telling him to give up hope, not even offering the barest smidgeon of emotional support as he grieves, putting everything on his shoulders.

It pisses me the fuck off.

Aleksander: You’re the one who taught me how to kill, mother. Their blood is on your hands as much as mine. Baghra: I taught you so you could protect yourself. Not them.

Once more, Baghra highlights how he needs to protect himself. How he should abandon the people he’s protecting. How he shouldn't help others and only ever himself. Once more, she says it’s my way or the high way. There’s zero effort to work with him. Zero effort to sympathize or compromise. She’s constantly pushing him to take the one option she knows he won’t take. The hell did she think was going to happen?

Also, Baghra taught him how to kill. Not necessarily great parenting, but understandable given the circumstances of his upbringing. But the level to which she takes it is honestly concerning. Like, look no further than this woman to see where Aleksander got it from lol.

Baghra also forbids him from using Merzost. Which is great and all, she gets to claim the moral high ground. But she doesn’t offer a single alternative except to flee and let everybody die. There was legitimately no other option to Merzost except for torture and death. If there was, Baghra sure as hell didn’t help Aleksander come up with one. Aleksander, who - by the way - is in no fit emotional state to be making any kind of decision right now.

So anyways, that’s just my tv show grief regarding Baghra, and it’s not even really all of it. I don’t want to make this an hour long read though lmao. But I’ll go over a few other things.

First of all, Baghra’s whole “We’re the only two that matter. We have to do whatever we can to protect ourselves,” mentality is one that she actively touts to Aleksander on a regular basis when he’s incredibly young. It’s honestly a wonder he grows up to care about other people at all. But the mentality itself is something Aleksander still heavily internalized in regards to protecting himself and those he deems worthy at any cost.

There’s a moment in the books when Aleksander is attacked and nearly drowned by some kids who wanted his bones (one of which was a close friend of his). He uses the cut in self defense and then blames the nearby Otkazat’sya village. Baghra knows he’s lying, and yet she allows an entire village to get slaughtered for harming him. This is a disproportionately violent act that Baghra approves of, and Aleksander as a kid is definitely internalizing that mindset.

Also, Baghra’s behavior around Aleksander has always been weirdly possessive and controlling. Especially when it comes to the people he loves. Her actions often come across as her trying to isolate him in order to keep him by her side, even when the relationships he has are clearly intimate. Which... is especially strange for a mother to be doing to her son.

She was also an extremely emotionally neglectful mother. Based on the show and what I gathered from her actions there, I’m actually half convinced she was physically abusive as well, in that “I think I’m being a stern, good parent figure when in reality I’m actually harming my child” kind of way. She fosters codependence with her son and then refuses to provide for any of his emotional needs. She drives it into his head that everybody dies, that he’ll always be alone, that love is useless and power is everything. She denies him the opportunity to be soft and works to harden him at a young age. She tells him he must never allow people to touch him, except she doesn’t work to supplement those physical needs in any way. She essentially abuses him.

Honestly, I could go on. But in reality the simple fact is that I just don’t like her. I think she’s a hypocrite. I think she’s abusive. I think she’s a terrible mentor and an even worse mother. And I think the fandom and the books are willing to brush aside so many of her faults simply because she opposes the Darkling.

I’m sorry if this isn’t what you guys were looking for! It sounds like a lot of you wanted a more of a sophisticated breakdown, but my thoughts on Baghra come with a heap of emotional baggage lol. It feels weird to say this now, but I actually do like the character as a character, I just,,, don’t like her in every other aspect. My feelings on Baghra are just a bit personal, to be honest. But hopefully this was at least comprehensible??

#shadow and bone #sab #grishaverse #anti leigh bardugo #anti baghra #baghra critical #sab spoilers #demon in the wood spoilers #aleksander morozova #sab meta #the darkling #fandomcourse #myramblings #leigh bardugo critical #mymetas #anti darklina bs #please dont hate me for this #aaahhhh now im worried #Yikes

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cherienymphe · 4 years ago

Text

xoxo (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, roofie use, Stark!Peter, snobby rich people, Peter’s an ass (I believe @opheliadawnwalker3 coined the term “baby Ransom”)

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: Peter Stark, the adopted son of the playboy philanthropist Tony Stark, has been a pain in your ass for years. Ever the womanizer, you always brushed off his flirtatious behavior as part of his personality, unaware of just how deeply his feelings ran.

You leaned against the bar with a grimace, nursing the strong drink in your hand as the annoying sound of high-pitched laughs and fake compliments drifted up from downstairs, swirling around you. You glanced over your shoulder to look down at the rest of the guests before rolling your eyes at this soiree that was nothing more than a pissing contest for the rich and snooty.

You truly hated being the daughter of a wealthy CEO more often than not. You’d grown up with the kind of lifestyle that more than half the world would never taste, ignorant to not only reality, but the true inner workings of the business that funded your lifestyle. It wasn’t until your junior year of high school when the rug was ripped out from underneath you, exposing the dark truth.

Now, you detested everything about this lifestyle. From the preferential treatment to the fancy parties, you hated everything that came with it. Despite the fact that you were an adult now, your father still had an iron grip on you no matter how much you pretended he didn’t. It was why instead of going on a humanitarian trip with some friends from college for winter break, you were back in the big apple, the upper east side to be exact, surrounded by a bunch of brownnosers.

“Another please,” you murmured, setting your empty glass down onto the bar.

The bartender was quick in giving you a refill, but before the glass met your lips, a finger slid in between to gently push it away. A sigh escaped you before you even turned your head, the familiar smell of his cologne reaching your nose.

“You’re always off by yourself at these little gatherings…”

You turned towards the voice, eyes meeting his dark ones as a playful smirk danced along his pink lips. His brown hair was neatly pushed away from his face, suit fitting him to perfection. He looked so put together and very much like a gentleman. Too bad that you knew better.

“Someone like me might take it as an invitation to approach you.”

You fully turned in your seat, leaning your elbow on the bar to gaze at him, unimpressed, cheek resting on your hand. He too was leaning on the bar, signaling for the bartender to get him a drink, already sliding into the seat in front of you. You could’ve protested, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Peter Stark was the bane of your existence. Adopted by the great Tony Stark when he was just a toddler, a big ordeal that made the papers apparently, the dark-haired male grew up in the same environment you did. The same circles. You went to the best schools together, often times having the same batch of friends. He always had the teachers and just about every other adult fooled, but everyone else knew better.

Peter’s charm was notorious. Those soft brown eyes and boyish good looks could have any girl swooning at his feet. He was so good that most girls didn’t even mind being one of the many. As long as they were a number, they didn’t care. Let them tell it, he had a way of making every single one of them feel special. You probably would’ve been one of them had you not seen his behavior firsthand all those years ago. How he’d tell one girl one thing and say something completely different to the next.

Peter’s constant flirtations with you and your absolute refusal to ever even entertain him had made your relationship…interesting. Could you even call yourselves friends? He flirted with you, and you rolled your eyes at his antics. That was the gist of it. His behavior had only gotten worse once you’d denounced this lifestyle the minute you left for college, a non-Ivy League college at that.

You remembered the surprise you felt that Peter had seemed to be genuinely upset with the 180 you’d done with your lifestyle. You had rolled your eyes as he’d called you all sorts of ‘wannabe’ this and ‘wannabe’ that, biting your tongue as he insulted your ‘low rate school’. Even now, after a little over 2 years, he still sneered whenever he brought up your new life.

“Color me shocked you even showed up today. Last I heard you were going to build houses for children,” he said, nursing his drink.

You smirked at him, fighting back a laugh.

“Last you heard? Keeping tabs on me, Stark?”

He returned your smirk, dark eyes trailing over you, gaze lingering on whatever skin your short dress exposed. You weren’t fazed by his conspicuous onceover, more than used to it.

“Of course. I have to make sure my best girl stays out of trouble,” he told you, leaning in.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you downed your drink.

“Your best girl,” you dryly repeated, standing. “Yeah, okay.”

Peter hurried to stand with you, whistling at the bartender as you walked away. It wasn’t long before you felt his arm being thrown over your shoulder as he pulled you against him. He waved an expensive bottle of champagne in your face as he walked down the hall with you.

“You may have switched up and hate me now-.”

“I’ve always hated you,” you deadpanned.

“…but you can’t deny that I know how to throw a party within a party,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Ned and I are having a little get together in the penthouse suite.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you sighed as you thought about how angry you’d been to be forced back home for the break instead of doing what you wanted to do. You could honestly use the distraction, at least for a little while until you had to be in your father’s presence again. You sighed again, and by the grin on Peter’s lips, you knew that he knew that he had you.

“Fine. Lead the way,” you said with a flourish.

His grin widened, and he pulled you closer as he took you to the elevator. You leaned against the mirrored wall once inside, staring at your reflection with a frown.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he said, pressing the button. “It’ll give you premature wrinkles.”

“Why are you so concerned with how I age?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, approaching you as he swung the bottle of champagne in his hand.

“I want you to age as gracefully as me when we get married,” he teased, pressing his free hand onto the wall beside your head.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’d never marry you, and you… Well, you’d never get married,” you said with a shrug, shaking your head.

His grin dimmed a bit as his eyes met yours.

“I’d marry you,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, head leaning back against the wall as he moved closer, pressing his forearm to the wall, face suddenly serious as he eyed you. It was his turn to sigh now, the sound heavy and drawn out.

“When…are you and I finally going to get together?” he slowly asked, voice low in the quiet elevator.

Your eyes widened just a tad, nose brushing his as he leaned in. Peter hadn’t asked you that for some time now. It was a recurring question of his that you always brushed off, and even though this time was no different, something in his voice made you blink. There was a yearning that had never been there before. Something new lingering in his eyes.

You laid your hand on his chest, pushing him away, and he let you.

“Seriously, Peter? You know the answer to that question,” you said.

He huffed, his grin returning as he shook your rejection off.

“You know I always have to ask…just in case you change your mind,” he replied, quickly scanning your frame.

The elevator dinged, and the doors parted behind him, the low hum of a small party reaching your ears.

“I’m never going to change my mind.”

Without a second glance, you brushed past him to exit the elevator.

“You need to start getting serious about your future, Y/N.”

You stared out of the tinted window, watching the city fly by as your father’s car weaved in and out of traffic. He was giving you yet another lecture on what he thought you should be doing with your future. After all, it wasn’t like you had already decided on a major and knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, so you could understand his- oh. Wait… You had!

“Dad,” you sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Humanities isn’t a real major,” he argued for the umpteenth time, tone laced with contempt.

You cut in before he could continue.

“First of all, it is. Second of all, it’s my minor-.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me to forget that- what is it? International relations? That’s the major, right?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ll never understand you kids. So fickle with your goals-.”

“Dad, I’ve had the same plan since before I even went to college. You can’t call it fickle just because at 17 I told you I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps. I’ve known what I wanted since then. Its literally the opposite of fickle,” you huffed.

You heard him sigh.

“I don’t understand what happened here, Y/N. I really don’t. Ever since you were little, you wanted to follow in my footsteps-.”

“…and now I don’t. Things happen,” you told him. “I don’t want anything to do with this lifestyle.”

You’d told him this a hundred times. You were so tired of having the same discussion, and you knew that he was too.

“Why can’t you be more like Peter?”

You frowned, finally looking over at him. This was a new tactic. The older man had his eyes focused on the paper as he continued to speak.

“He’s following behind Tony swimmingly, a real successor in the making,” he praised.

You fought the urge to groan and sink down in your seat like a child. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your father would be comparing you to Peter Stark of all people.

“You’re comparing me to Peter now?” you scoffed.

The paper ruffled as he turned it, humming.

“I’m just noting that the two of you came up together, but you somehow deviated so far off track.”

“Well, since you love Peter so much, just pass the company onto him when the time comes. God knows he’ll appreciate it way more than I will,” you grumbled.

Your father hummed at that.

“I actually have hopes that, in some way, the company will be his one day,” he replied.

Your brows furrowed, confusion filling you as you fought to understand what he meant. Your father’s eyes finally met yours, a serious look on his face.

“Peter’s exactly the kind of man you should be considering when you finally get ready to get married.”

Shock poured over you like a bucket of ice water, his words having been the last thing you expected to hear. Marriage? Peter? You blinked a few times, fighting to clear your head enough to articulate what you were thinking.

“You…you can’t be serious…?”

He fixed you with a stern look.

“As a heart attack. What is there to oppose? Peter is young and handsome and well brought up. He’ll be taking over after Tony one day, and you really can’t do much better than that. Unless you’re aiming to be the next Meghan Markle, but no offense sweetheart, you don’t strike me as the type,” he elaborated.

You pressed your hand to your forehead as your mind spun.

“I’m not telling you to marry him or anything. I’d never go so far to participate in something as archaic as an arranged marriage. I’m just telling you to consider it. He’s a good match for you, and I’d like you to be open to it…”

You couldn’t begin to believe how sharply this morning had turned.

“It’s why you’ll be seeing a lot more of him over the break. Just keep it in mind when we meet with them,” he said.

He must have noted the confusion on your face because he continued.

“We’re meeting them for brunch. Tony wants to run his latest idea by me, and we figured it would give you and Peter more time to catch up,” he explained.

The car had finally stopped just as he finished, and you didn’t have time to process anything before you were being ushered out of the car. The brisk air whipped around you as you followed your father into the fancy restaurant.

Your father wanted you to marry Peter? The idea was so absurd that you actually considered the possibility that your father was playing a joke on you. You felt like you were having an out of body experience as you and your father sat down, you across from Peter. As always, he looked absolutely tickled to see you, while you simply returned his grin with a withering stare.

Brunch was a taxing affair. Tony Stark greeted you as politely as he always did before he and your father got right down to business. That left you and Peter with no one but each other to look at. You did your best to ignore the annoying brunette sitting across from you, barely speaking with him no matter how many times he tried to engage you in conversation.

You supposed that your behavior towards Peter was a bit unfair. After all, it wasn’t his fault that your father wanted you to marry him. Although, as you thought back to your conversation in the elevator the other day, you had to wonder if he knew, or at the very least, had some idea. And that was exactly what you asked him once you were alone.

Your father and Tony had gone back to Tony’s office in a hurry to remedy some oversight that had been missed. You’d been left with your father’s car and driver, and you eyed Peter, waiting for his answer, as you made your way outside.

“Not really, no.”

You slid into the backseat, thanking the driver before scooting as far away from Peter as possible as he joined you.

“Not really or no? Those are two different answers,” you told him.

A smirk danced along his lips as he leaned his head back, turning it ever so slightly to gaze at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I had an idea. The great Mr. Y/L/N never came outright and said it, but little things he’d say here and there started to add up,” he explained with a chuckle.

He apparently found this funny while you did not. You crossed your arms over your chest, anger bubbling within you at the thought of your father playing matchmaker behind your back. Peter reached for your hand, attempting to pull it away from your chest, but you jerked it away as soon as his fingers brushed yours. He sucked his teeth.

“Come on. Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You turned to fully face him, not a hint of humor on your face.

“Yes,” you answered, voice steady with conviction.

He simply rolled his eyes, lips twitching, and you shook your head with a scoff.

“Is your father in on this too? God, I bet Tony Stark is just eating this up,” you complained.

The tone of Peter’s chuckle gave you pause, and you eyed him as he grinned at you.

“Quite the opposite actually…”

You frowned, and God help you, because you found yourself…offended.

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you or something?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

You didn’t want to marry Peter, but you knew that you were more than good enough for a guy like him. The truth was that Peter wasn’t good enough for you. He shook his head, picking at a piece of lint on your shoulder as he hummed.

“No actually. In fact, he’d dare say that you are out of my league, and I’d be forced to agree,” he told you with a shrug. “He thinks you’re too much of a ‘wild card’.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, nodding as you understood what that meant.

“I see. So he wants you to marry a meek and submissive little thing who will do everything you say and conform to the Stark image. Got it,” you replied with a smirk.

He returned it, finger trailing along your collarbone now as he eyed you.

“He thinks that you march to the beat of your own drum…and you do…,” he said, smirk growing as his gaze met yours. “…but I think I can handle you just fine.”

You slapped his hand away, disgust filling you just as the car stopped.

“We’re at your place. Get out,” you sneered, looking away from him.

“Care to join me? No one’s home…we’ll have the whole place to ourselves…”

You opted for ignoring him and the way his voice lowered, the hidden meaning in his question loud and clear. When some time passed, he finally sighed, and you heard the car door open. When it didn’t close, you turned to see Peter standing outside, one hand pressed onto the top of the car door while the other rested on the hood of the car as he leaned down.

A dark strand fell out of place and brushed along his forehead, dark eyes somehow darker as he trailed them over your tense form. His smirk slowly fell, and you blinked at the less than humorous expression on his face. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d seen Peter so serious.

“You really shouldn’t try so hard to show your dislike for me…”

You frowned at him, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards just a tad.

“…someone might think you’re playing hard to get.”

Before you could process that, he’d closed the door. He didn’t go inside right away, instead opting for standing on the curb to watch your father’s car drive away.

When your father said that you’d be seeing a lot more of Peter over the break, you underestimated just how determined the old man was to get you and the Stark heir together. Every innocent gathering turned into a run-in with Tony and his wife, Pepper, and Peter. Whether it was brunch or dinner or a shopping trip. Hell, even an innocent day at the park had you coming face to face with who you now liked to refer to as ‘the pain in your ass’.

Had you known that this is what your winter break would entail, you would have fought tooth and nail with your father on it. You felt like this was such a waste of time, one big joke that you’d walked into and you were the punchline. You had no idea how much worse it could get.

You were currently in the hallway of the home that belonged to none other than the Starks. You were killing time by fleetingly looking at the artwork that was hung up on the dark walls, a half empty glass of some brown liquor in your hand. You could hear the voices of Tony, Pepper, and your father drifting to you from the lounge, and you rolled your eyes.

When your father had told you that you’d be joining them for dinner, you thought it’d be in their apartment in the city. Some place that you could easily escape if need be. You never would have agreed if you’d known you’d be in upstate New York hours later, conversing with them in one of their many secluded vacation houses. Dinner was long over, and you had no desire to be privy to anymore of their business talk. Peter had scurried off to only God knows where, and you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Perhaps you should have.

Your mood soured even further as you felt an arm slide over your shoulders to curl around your neck, pulling you back into a firm chest. Peter hummed, and you sighed. The story of your lives.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he wondered, gesturing to the painting. “I picked it out. I thought it would brighten the place up a bit.”

You threw his arm off of you, and he chuckled.

“Don’t look so glum, Y/N. The grownups are knee deep into stock market talk, which means they won’t even think about us for another hour at the least…”

You looked to the ceiling as he slipped an arm around your waist, praying for some higher power to strike you down. Or him. You’d be happy either way.

“Surely we can find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” he murmured.

You turned to face him and turned your head again just in time for his lips to brush the skin of your cheek. You pushed yourself away from him with a frown, backing up until your back rested against the opposite wall.

“Whatever happened to MJ?” you suddenly asked him, a faint smile on your lips as you took a sip of your drink.

Peter smirked, leaning against the other wall as he stared you down, raising an eyebrow at you, dark suit hugging him nicely.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hardly,” you snorted. “My father likes to bring up you and your personal life every chance he gets. Of course, now I know why. I was shocked to find out that you had a girl in your life who stuck around for more than two months.”

“She was too much like you,” he dismissively said. “She wanted to travel and see the world and make a difference. There’s only room for one girl like that in my life. Anything more, and things would start to get a little…dull.”

You hummed, pushing away from the wall to walk past him. Peter followed, and your mind spun.

“What exactly are you going to do when I finally meet a nice guy to get serious with? Surely, this behavior can’t go on forever, Peter,” you wondered.

He grabbed your elbow and gently pushed you into the wall. His other hand was beside your head, dark eyes narrowed and inquiring. You sharply inhaled, unintentionally breathing in the scent of him, and you blinked.

“What nice guy could you possibly meet at that sad excuse of a school you call-?”

“I don’t know how to break it to you that an Ivy League education isn’t exactly the picture of intelligence you think it is,” you sneered at him.

His own face grew taut as he glared at you, tilting his head to the side.

“Is that why you turned down your acceptance to Princeton? To prove some silly point?”

“For your information, Peter, I turned down my acceptance because I learned that the main reason I got in was because of my father.”

“So what? What is the point of our parents working their asses off for years if not to give us the opportunities they didn’t have growing up? When are you going to drop this holier-than-thou wannabe Mother Teresa act?”

“It’s not an act,” you spat, shoving him away from you. “This world? This way of life and everything that comes with it? I hate it. I despise everything about it. Its sickening that we live like we do while people down the street struggle to keep a roof over their heads. What is it to you, anyway?”

Peter ran his hand through his hair, huffing as he stared you down.

“You and me?” he started, gesturing between the two of you, his other hand on his hip. “We could’ve been unstoppable together. We were supposed to go to Princeton together. We were supposed to leave our mark on that campus together, create a legacy, and make a name for ourselves on our own, and instead I’m doing that by myself while you go off galivanting down south-.”

“Is that what this is about?” you demanded, incredulity filling your voice. “…some fantasy in your mind that we’d be some power couple who’d go on to take over after our fathers and rule the upper east side? Seriously? That’s a new one, even for you.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he glared at you, nostrils flaring as he ran his eyes over you with the nastiest look you’d ever seen on his boyish face.

“You can run all you like…reinvent yourself all you want…”

His voice lowered as he approached you, and you stood your ground, glowering at him.

“…but you will never escape this life,” he threw at you, and you flinched at his harsh tone.

“That may be true…but I can still try,” you whispered.

The corner of his lips lifted into a mocking smirk.

“Try all you want. Hell, jump into a relationship with the next guy you have some anthropology project with for all I care. We both know that the only guy to give you the life you deserve…to give you what you need…”

He reached to fix a stray hair that had come out of place, smirk smug and eyes smugger.

“…is a guy like me.”

You stumbled away from him with a frown, arms folded over your chest.

“Screw you, Peter.”

You turned away from him to go find your father.

Peter had always been an annoying thorn in your side, but his behavior tonight had reached new heights. It amazed you, really, how far he was willing to go just to finally get you into bed. He had never had any problem being an asshole, but there was a shift in him tonight. His tone was harsher, words meaner, eyes just a tad bit icier than normal. In fact, it almost seemed like it wasn’t his usual cruel teasing.

When you finally neared the lounge, you frowned at the words that reached you.

“She’ll probably be a bit bitter about it at first, but I’m sure Y/N will grow to love it. This will be an amazing opportunity for her.”

You recognized your father’s voice, and you slowed just before finally entering, listening in.

“I was surprised to hear that she’s transferring, which is why I had never initially considered her for the internship. I was under the impression that she wouldn’t be here to do it.”

Your frown deepened at Tony Stark’s words, a sinking feeling in your gut, and although you wanted to hear more, something in you prevented you from staying still and doing so. You stepped into the lounge, greeting them all with a smile before resting your gaze on your father.

“I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m feeling a bit ill,” you lied.

Perhaps it wasn’t a complete lie. Peter’s harsh words didn’t exactly leave you feeling the best, but your father believed you anyway. The two of you said your goodbyes to the Starks, even Peter who had slithered his way into the foyer eventually. He’d sent you off with that stupid smirk on his face, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The ride home was quiet. Your mind was too stuck on the snippet of conversation that you’d heard. You knew that it was about you, that much you had heard, but the talk about internships and transferring had you confused. Again, there was that sinking feeling in your gut, and it wouldn’t go away. You wanted to bring it up to your father, but he’d spent the entire next day in the office.

Your paranoia got the best of you though, and the next evening, you found yourself in his study, mind going a mile a minute as you poured over the papers you found. Shock coursed through you at every reveal, hands shaking and heart sinking in disbelief. That was how your father found you that night, perched in his desk chair, tearful eyes glaring up at him as he walked through the door. He sighed as soon as his eyes landed on the papers scattered all over his desk.

“Tell me this isn’t true,” you quietly pleaded.

You knew that it had to be, but you needed to hear him say it.

“You’ll be going to Princeton for your senior year. All of the paper work has been done and whatever needs to be transferred has been transferred,” he breathed, stepping into the room.

You shook your head in disbelief, tears spilling over. You were shocked to find yourself…shocked. You knew that your father didn’t approve of your new lifestyle and your plans for your future. You knew that it ran deep, and yet it had never occurred to you that he’d do something about it. You had foolishly thought that he’d let you make your own decisions.

This was the main reason you hated this world you were born into. The things that people could buy, could do, if they had enough money to do so scared you. It shouldn’t be allowed.

“…and the internship?”

You didn’t even care that you had revealed yourself to be eavesdropping last night. Your father stepped further into his study.

“You’ll be interning with Stark Industries immediately after graduation…”

You were out of his chair and stomping out of his office before he could even finish. He didn’t even call for you to come back, and why would he? His word was law. You both knew that this was going to happen, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The night air was cold, and you wished you’d grabbed a thicker coat before stepping outside. After all, the only thing you had on underneath was a flimsy dress. You’d had plans to meet up with some old friends from high school tonight after your talk with your father, but you had never imagined that the talk would reveal this.

A lot of people were out in the city. It was a Friday night, after all. There was some light snow falling, but you could hardly even see it because the tears had finally spilled over. You couldn’t remember a time where you were so angry that you’d cried. You were grateful to be in New York of all places, right now, because a girl crying on the sidewalk was the most normal thing someone would probably see.

You crossed the street to a less crowded sidewalk, still trying to wrap your head around what your father had done, when a sleek black limo slowed beside you. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it had the window not rolled down to reveal none other than Peter.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing he asked you.

Fed up with this night and having no patience for Peter Stark and all of his glory, you sneered at him.

“No,” you snapped.

You huffed when the limo rolled slowly along the street in time with your steps. Peter called to you, but you ignored him. What was he even doing out, right now? It was a Friday night. Shouldn’t he be at someone’s party participating in at least 2 illegal activities?

You sped up when you heard his door slam shut, but you weren’t quick enough. His firm hands grabbed you and turned you to face him, shaking you just a little as he ran his eyes over you, gaze lingering on your tearful one.

“Hey…”

“Go away, Peter,” you said, fighting to get out of his grip.

His hold tightened, and he stepped closer.

“It’s late. Why are you out here on the street like this? What happened?”

You snatched one arm out of his hold and shoved yourself away from him.

“Did you know?”

His brows furrowed, frowning slightly at your question. His cheeks were red from the cold, giving him a cherubic aura that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. Did you know that my father was getting me transferred to Princeton behind my back? That I’m supposed to be interning with your father as soon as I graduate?”

You registered the shock on his face, and he slowly shook his head, thrown by what you’d told him.

“No,” he softly said.

You crossed your arms over your chest, more tears falling.

“If I had known…I would’ve told you, Y/N.”

“Would you?” you scoffed.

His face hardened at your insinuation, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I would have. Look, I may hate this 180 that you’ve done with your life just as much as your father, but even I know that you’re going to do what you want anyway. You always have.”

He whispered the last part, and your gaze reluctantly met his. He pursed his lips, running his eyes over you as he reached for you.

“Where are you headed?” he wondered.

It hit you that you hadn’t really had a destination in mind. Your eyes widened, and you were sure that the panic and confusion was written all over your face. You shrugged, a few tears escaping.

“I…I don’t know,” you pathetically answered.

Peter softly sighed, pulling you towards the limo.

“Well, I was on my way to a party-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head. You didn’t know where you wanted to go, but you knew that a party was not it. He pulled on your jacket, and you stumbled towards him in your heels.

“Hey,” he softly said when your eyes started to stray, and you looked at him. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of champagne in the limo, a full tank of gas, and a driver who’s getting paid by the minute. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

You glanced away, thinking it over. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being near your father right now, and although Peter had shaken you last night, in the end, it was just him being his usual self. Your uneasiness from his words last night you wrote off to sensitivity and overthinking. You suddenly let out a humorless chuckle.

“You promise to get me really, really drunk?” you teased.

You were joking, but you honestly didn’t want to even remember your conversation with your father right now. That familiar smirk of his graced his lips as he threw an arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the car.

“I promise to get you anything you want,” he purred.

The inside was warm, and you had almost forgotten how roomy limos could be. The L-shaped seating could easily fit 4 more people. True to Peter’s words, there was indeed two bottles of champagne on ice, and he reached for one as soon as the vehicle continued down the dark street.

You leaned your head against the window as he popped it open, getting you a glass. You felt defeated, and you were sure your face showed it as you took the offered drink from him.

“So what are you gonna do?”

You shook your head at Peter’s question.

“What can I do, Peter?” you quietly wondered with a shrug. “I mean… If my father is willing to go this far to get me where he wants me to be…? What’s stopping him from doing so again and again and again?”

Peter leaned back in his seat, eyeing you as you sipped on the bubbly alcohol.

“I’ll never be free of him,” you said, more to yourself than Peter. “God, he really is going to get everything he wants. Looks like I’ll be seeing you in 3 years at our engagement party, after all.”

Peter slid along the seat to get closer to you, rolling his eyes.

“Come on,” he dragged out. “Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You almost choked on your drink, and you incredulously eyed him.

“We’ve been over this before, and the answer is yes. That’s if we can even get you to walk down the aisle.”

Peter sighed, sitting his drink down.

“I would marry you,” he argued, looking at you.

“Come on, Peter. You’re just saying that!”

You took another sip, thankful for the liquid courage.

“It’s all a game to you. It always has been. The minute you finally get with me, it’ll be over. Hell…,” you said, thinking. “…maybe I should sleep with you so you’ll finally leave me alone.”

Peter laughed, resting his arm behind you on the back of the seat.

“If I had you, I’d never leave you alone,” he replied, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you barked a laugh. “Okay…”

“I’m serious,” he said, tone matching his words, and you fought to hold his intense gaze. “When are we finally going to get together?”

You glanced away.

“You’ve asked me this probably a hundred times, and the answer is always the same,” you murmured.

“When are we finally going to stop playing this game?”

Your eyes met his again, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game-.”

“I want you,” he whispered so quietly that you weren’t sure you heard him right. “You know that, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you.”

There was a frown on his face, and you swallowed.

“You want everyone,” you quietly replied, suddenly feeling very odd.

You scooted away from him just a tad, but he followed.

“When I have you, Y/N, I won’t treat you like those other girls,” he told you.

“Ha! How reassuring,” you sarcastically replied.

His hand rested on your arm, and you squirmed, head feeling a bit light.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, hand trailing upwards to brush along your shoulder before resting on your neck. “You’re my best girl…”

You blinked at him with a frown, and he tilted his head at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why would I treat my best girl like the rest?”

You shook your head, moving away from him some more.

“Maybe…maybe I should just go home after all. I’m not feeling so good, right now,” you told him, alarmed at how slurred your words were.

You watched as Peter reached to take another sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” he calmly said, taking your drink from your trembling fingers and setting it aside. “That would probably be the Rohypnol.”

You slowly blinked at him, trying to clear the fuzz from your head as you processed his words. Did he just say…Rohypnol? As in…?

“Roofie is the common term, also known as the date-rape drug.”

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt like you weren’t sliding away from him fast enough.

“Peter, this…this is a joke, right? You’re kidding…?”

He snorted, and even without his confirmation, you knew that he wasn’t kidding. Your head had been spinning for minutes now.

“Come on, Y/N. When have you ever known me to be a huge comedian?”

You fell against the door as you tried the handle, but it was locked, and that was when you really started to panic.

“Y/N.”

You ignored Peter as he called your name, opting instead for hitting against the partition. You heard Peter heave a sigh from behind you before his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you back. Your movements were sluggish and futile, but you fought against him anyway. He pulled you down onto his lap as he leaned back into the seat.

“Peter…”

Your words died in your throat as his hands clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you down until his lips met yours. The kiss was hungry, Peter a man starved as he moaned into your mouth. He was panting when he pulled away, chest heaving before he kissed you again.

Your hands were pressed against his chest, trying in vain to push yourself away from him. You gasped against his lips, heart stuttering when he flipped you, your frame now between his and the seat. He settled against you easily, fitting perfectly in between your legs as his fingers danced over you.

The buttons of your coat flew as he yanked it open, and you shivered. Peter paid no mind, running his hands over your exposed skin before sliding them under your dress. You felt like you were barely hanging onto consciousness, not even realizing when Peter had started to drag your underwear down your legs until they were already to your ankles.

You feebly kicked against him, but he simply grabbed your legs, spreading them to settle in between them once more. You could feel him hot and hard through his pants, and more tears kissed your eyes. How on earth had you missed this? You cursed yourself for not taking his behavior more seriously. For not listening to yourself last night.

Confident that you could not fight him off, one of his hands worked between your legs while the other worked to release himself. He was right to be confident, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your arms to work right. You felt like you were underwater, weighed down by sand.

“Peter,” you quietly pleaded again, and he shushed you.

You squirmed beneath him as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, hating how easy it was because of how wet you were. He pressed his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue past your lips, and you trembled as you felt him line himself up with your entrance.

A high-pitched yelp left you as he filled you with one thrust. The moan that climbed out of his throat was low and long, and he cursed as you clenched around him. Your hand pressed against the back of the seat as he pulled back before snapping his hips into you again.

“You feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth.

One arm locked around your waist as he pulled you both into a sitting position, his throbbing cock still inside of you as he held you onto his lap. You pushed against him, but your arms buckled when he lifted his hips up into you.

You whimpered, falling against him, and both of his hands fell to grip your waist, tightly holding you as he fucked you. Your body couldn’t support itself, and you sagged against him, forehead pressing against his as your eyelashes fluttered. Your jacket was barely hanging onto you, and with one hand, he pulled it all the way off. He gripped the bottom of your sequined dress before bunching it around your hips.

You tried to push yourself up, push yourself off of him, but not only was his hold firm, your body was too under the influence of the drug he’d given you. You pathetically whimpered as you fell against him again, a sob caught in your chest. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, the strap of your dress falling, and you shuddered.

He pulled you into another kiss, the taste of your salty tears seeping into your mouth. Your head was light, mind spinning with the pleasure being forced onto you. You pressed your hand against the seat, attempting to push yourself away again when Peter spun you both, your back connecting with the seat as he laid you down, his clothed hips slapping against yours. He moaned into your mouth as you fluttered around him, and with a start, you realized that despite your unwillingness, an orgasm was creeping up on you.

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks as he kissed you again and again. His dark hair was falling into his forehead, sweat coating the strands, and your skin fared no better. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your stomach clenching, shamed and disgust coursing through you.

“Look at me,” Peter quietly demanded.

You shook your head but yelped when one of his hands reached to pinch your nipple through your dress. You peeled your eyes open, tears blurring your vision, but your gaze met his all the same.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured just as you clenched around him with a choked moan.

Your climax triggered his own, and he pushed into you a few more times before falling against you with a groan. You were both sweating and panting, and you felt the flames of sleep licking at the corners of your vision.

There was so much that you wanted to say to Peter, to scream at him, but you couldn’t form the words. You could only lay there as he kissed you again before pulling out of you, leaning back against the seat as he fixed himself. Sleep was just in your grasp, but you were scared to close your eyes. Scared of the man you thought you knew.

He spread his arm over the back of the seat, the other pulling your dress down, that annoying playful smirk dancing along his lips.

“I think a winter wedding would look absolutely beautiful.”

tags: @bamposworld @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi @lokislastlove @notyourtypicalrose @hurricanerin

#dark peter parker #Dark!Peter #dark fic #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker

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theepisceswriter · 4 years ago

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CRYING OVER SPILLED MILK — TOJI FUSHIGURO *insert cute edited picture of Toji here that I don’t have*

Synopsis: After a long stressful day of work, you come home to a bratty Toji just begging to get punished by you.

A/N: To the bestie that sent me that request for more of Sub!Toji with a sugar momma, you really messed up because I don’t think I’ve gotten to work on a request faster than yours and I’m positive this isn’t the end of this saga. also shoutout to @killerbananas for helping me with the title !

TW: Whew..... first off not proofread so probably a bunch of typos, glimpses of that sugar mommy lifestyle, sub!Toji, Dom!Reader, Fem!reader, light bondage, overstimulation, teasing, mommy kink, use of ‘sweet baby boy’ as a nickname, a whole lot of mature things, but I think those are the main warnings, 18 plus, MINORS DNI or I’ll eat your ankles like corn on the cob

WC: 3.7k, told you I got carried away !

“Toji!”

Your quavering voice echoed through the white marbling interior of the home as soon as you made your way through the door, shoulders and head rolling to get every nook and cranny out your neck that sitting at a desk from hours on end caused. You weren’t expecting to stay behind for as long as you did today, the decision of overtime being a unanimous vote between your boss and last minute cancelling coworker, so you couldn’t say no even if you wanted to. No matter how much you craved the tight embrace and warm fanning of breath between the valley of your breast accompanied with a headful of raven spikes that peaked out in wild directions from your younger companion.

Your home lacked the disarray of toys on the floor, the constant faint melodies of Cocomelon ringing through hallways, or the sickly sweet smell that often wavered through the air whenever kids frequented an area. Not to mention the lack of jewelry on the fourth finger of your left hand not signifying that you were single, but a silent way of letting those around you know that whatever situation you had at home wasn’t stable enough for a ring. Most women around your age were married to the successful men they worked alongside expecting their 2nd child despite the fact that their 1st born can barely talk, but you were different.

You had Toji to come home to and that was good enough for now.

The sound of your call out to him fell on deaf ears. Maybe the exhaustion was too heavy in your voice making your tone quieter than usual or else he would’ve been on you the moment you walked through the front door; eager to take your purse and keys away from you like the true gentleman he was underneath, but with an ulterior motive just like any man just so he could get you to the bedroom and please you quicker at his pace.

“My sweet boy,” You called out in an exclaimed voice you knew would have him perking up and at your attention even if he was in a completely different room with his headphones turned up to the max, just the soundwaves from the nickname alone conditioning him to be at your beck and call whenever you wanted him too. And just like how you had predicted the soft pattering of feet slowly came into your sound range and it wasn’t long until he was a couple feet away from you leaned against the walkway connecting the corridor to the front door, a scowl on his scarred lips and eyes narrowed with an expression that you couldn’t quite read because of the tufts of black hair that fell over the front of his face.

You stood there for a moment expecting him to take away the contents of your hands like he normally did, but the lack of movement and verbalization from him left you stuck yourself with confusion.

“Anyways,” you attempted to move on as you made your way to the common area with all of your belongings to put them up yourself, “Today was the most exhausting day I’ve had in a long time. None of my favorite coworkers were there, so I was stuck with a group of stuck up assholes who thought anything that wasn’t work related was unprofessional to talk about. And then I got stuck with the rest of somebody else’s shift because they hate me; that has to be the only explanation, right?”

A word vomit escaped your lips the moment they opened. The freedom of finally being able to talk about your terrible experience lifting half of the weight off of your shoulders and the other half disintegrating once you got your daily reassurance from Toji, but all you got were scoffs and mumbles of whatevers that had your hands going to your hips in a chastising position like that of a mother.

“Do you have something to say?”

“Like you’d even have time to stand there and listen to it, anyway, y/n.” He scoffs with the roll of his eyes, arms crossing over his chest and eyes finally meeting yours when he adjusts himself off the frame of the cut off to seemingly walk away.

At least that was the plan until your fingers held the fabric of his signature black t-shirt between ligaments and bone, halting him in his tracks completely. Two silent strides from your heels being off of your feet granting you the element of surprise with this move.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Moving from the back of his neck your fingers travel to grasp his shoulders and use the momentum of your arm swinging to turn him around to face you with ease, the words that leave your lips a mix of a purr and growl.

The stiffening of his already hard muscles underneath your touch is an indicator that he knew what was going to come from his little attitude fit and from the soft blush that grazed his features, it’s as if he were expecting it; provoking this reaction out of you on purpose. Needy for your attention to the point where he’d upset you even further on a day you came home with an already sour mood.

What a slut, you thought in the confinements of your head.

“I’ve had the most frustrating and exhausting days at work today, the job that I work so I can spoil you like I do, and this is how you’re going to treat me? Instead of letting me take out all my anger on your cock like we’d both like?”

Suddenly your hand is dropping down to the obvious bulge that’s poking through the light grey fabric of his sweats. A sharp inhale sounding from his nose as you gently fondle the erection with your free hand. Watching the hairs on his neck stand each time you graze over the soft sack of his balls before moving back up to his shaft just to tease him like you weren’t already groping him through his pants.

Even then that’s enough to stimulate the feelings of want for you that had been in the back of his mind all day long and it’s not long before he’s bucking up into your hand the closer he gets to his orgasm.

“How cute.” You coo out as you take note of the deepened blush that has taken place over his features along with his slightly parted lips and slight tilt back of his head. And just when the bucking up of his hips became rough and sloppy you removed your hand as quick as possible with a teasing smile on your lips at the frustrated groan that left his lips.

“Bad boys don’t deserve orgasms, only sweet boys do.” You taunt, taking a hold of his hand and leading him to the bedroom.

A silence falls over the burly man and he melts right back into the submissive you have him trained as. Obeying every single one of your orders once you get in the bedroom until he’s splayed out on the bed in a starfish position with his bare erect and yearning cock pressed up against his toned stomach with precum oozing from the swollen red tip and the soft glimmer of a silver cockring at the base of his cock.

“Mommy…” He finally speaks up in a desperate whisper for the first time today, your body slowly being disregarded of clothes finally bringing him to his begging point before you’re even touching him again. The weight of his actions finally weighs heavy in his mind when he sees you practically prancing towards the bed with a rugged bundle of light pink rope in your hand.

The kind that always made him feel so pretty when it matched the lingerie he put on for you now being used against him as a tool in his punishment.

“I’m sorry, mommy. I was just too needy for you earlier and was upset when you didn’t come home at the time you usually do.” His apologies fall on deaf ears just as your calling out to him had done earlier. Your face not even reacting to his words or looking in his direction when you move to each corner of the bed to restrain his wrists to the edge of the metal railing bed. Only looking down to chastise him with a quick ‘tsk!’ of your tongue when his mouth attempted to latch on to your nipples as you reached over to secure his wrists.

“I didn’t make you act like that earlier, you did this to yourself. Mommy wanted to come home and please both her and her sweet baby boy. But now look at you,” Your hand roughly comes down to forcefully take his jaw into your hand and force him to look up at you with eyes filled with regret, “All tied up ready to be used by me.”

It’s then that your hand travels down his stomach to place a gentle tap on the swollen tip of his cock. Going as far to even trail your finger around it eliciting groans from the pit of his stomach knowing you were going to pull away as soon as he got close to that sweet release again. Quiet gasps being the only thing that left his lips, the squirming of his hips underneath you a silent way of showing how much he wanted you.

“You look so pretty all tied up for me like this, baby.” Each word that left your lips sent a wave of pleasure straight to his dick and you could see the way it twitched from the corner of your eye as you moved your focus down to his chest deciding he wasn’t worthy of the kiss you were going to give to him. With pinched fingers your hands moved to the cherry red bud that was his nipple. Fondling the oversensitive bud on his plump chest warranting his whole torso to rumble with the pained groans of pleasure that escaped from him.

“Please,” A voice that you wouldn’t expect to come from someone his size, similar to that of a begging child’s, sounded from him with ease when you were the one delivering the pleasure, “Please give me more.”

A smirk made its way on your lips before you leaned down to capture the bud between your plush lips. Your tongue encircling the sensitive flesh to soothe the pain your pinching must’ve caused him. Only pulling away with a trail of spit following as you moved on to give the next nipple the same treatment. And if it weren’t for the tight cockring at the base of his balls, something as simple as this would’ve had him coming undone without you even having to touch his cock. But instead he was forced to deal with the painful ache of his erect straining against the cold metal.

Two quick swift movements and your mouth was pulling away from his chest against his wishes, whimpers leaving his lips, but quickly being shushed once he realized you were positioning yourself right over his cock.

“I still haven’t gotten my stress relief for the day,” Grabbing on to his thick shaft you lined up his swollen tip with your entrance, teasingly dragging it along your wet slit up to your clit before you were stuffing it inside of you without warning, choked moans leaving the both of you from the long awaited pleasure.

“So fucking big you can barely fit inside of me.” But still you lowered your hips down on him until you were at his hilt. Taking a moment to adjust to his girth and size before your hips swirled at an achingly slow pace in a sloppy figure 8 motion. The feeling of your clit rubbing up against his hardened lower abdomen making you damn near see stars.

“Y-You feel so good around me, mommy. So fucking good.” Greed got the best of the needy sub, his hips attempting to buck up into you to change the slow pace you had set, but that just prompted you to stop the movement of your hips altogether. Stopping to look down at his flustered face and pressing your hands down on his to limit his mobility.

“What a needy slut my sweet baby boy is,” You sucked in through teeth when he delivered a quick snap of his hips up into you. Your nails dragged along his chest hard enough to leave pink markings on it, but not rough enough to make him bleed. “If you weren’t such a brat earlier then maybe I would’ve been letting you fuck me right now as we speak,” your hips resumed their former pace and pattern of movement, “But you’re not.” You taunted him in a teasing voice, watching as his face scrunched up in both pain from the limitations his cockring put on him, but also pleasure as you indulged him in the warmth of your cunt wrapped around his length.

“Please...I’m sorry...please just let me cum.” Toji basically cries out, whining like a poor dog.

“Not until I do.” You grab his chin forcing him to look up at you and reaching down with your free hand to grope at his plump chest. They fill your hand up in all the right ways like they were made for you to toy and mess with. “Not just once, but twice. And then maybe if I’m feeling nice I’ll be nice enough to let you cum too.”

And so it goes on like that for at least an hour, your slick pussy gripping around him and creaming so many times around him to the point where a thick ring of cum had formed at the base of his cock because of you. Your clit was swollen from the stimulation his skin gave you and almost matched the color of his darkening cock with each passing minute, the only difference being that you constantly got your relief.

Tears pooled at the edge of his eyes, glossy each time he looked up at you and silently pleading like a dog begging for food. His wrists were sore and raw from yanking against the pretty pink rope this whole session. It’s felt like forever for him, not only having to endure this session, but waiting and longing for you all day long. He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Please, please, please, mommy. I’m begging you! Please let me cum mommy, make me feel good too please.” His voice is barely audible and sounds more like a croak than smooth pronunciation. Already considering to finally give him that sweet release since you’ve had your release already, it was his soft desperate sniffle that brought you completely to your conclusion of freeing him.

“Mommy is going to take care of her sweet baby boy now.”

Reaching over you grabbed the ube from your bedside drawer that you always kept for situations as such and poured a fair amount on the shaft of Toji’s cock. Using the cooling sensation of the lube to take away some of his swollenness and ease him from the restraints of the cockring.

“The rope.” He brought to your attention before he took his sigh of relief, watching with widened and eager eyes as you reached over to undo the intricate knots on his wrists. Soothing the raw area with your thumb and kisses before you allowed them to drop to his side, that sigh of relief finally sounding from his lips.

He wasted no time in relishing on the fact that he wasn’t tied up and begging anymore or even paused to wipe away the flushed tears from his cheeks, but immediately wrapped his broad arm around your torso and flipped the two of you over so you were now the one below him as he towered over you.

He almost didn’t know what to do with this freedom after not having it all day long and it took a moment for him to decide, but the first thing he did was drop his face between your breasts, groping and motorboating them like a mad man. You threaded your fingers into his dark raven spikes as his mouth found your nipple and began to gently suckle on the sweet skin.

“So good.” He let out in a satisfied hum that vibrated against your nipples and sent a shiver up your spine.

“You do that so well, such a good boy for me when you’re not being a brat.” You backhandedly praise through soft gasps underneath your breath.

Dark eyes looking up at you through lashes, pupils blown wide from pleasure, and your praise making his cock leak with precum at the tip. Your grip in his hair tightened as you pulled him closer against your body, the arch of your body into him giving him perfect access to slip in between your folds with ease from the wetness that had accumulated between your thighs from multiple orgasms already.

“Your pussy feels so warm and tight around me.” He pulls away from your lipples with a loud pop and grunt like this wasn’t his fourth time of the day feeling the confines of your velvet walls. The only difference being that it was at his pace for once and not the painstakingly slow one you had been teasing him with all day long, able to pound into like he had been dreaming about all day long. The bed swaying back and forth and squeaking with each powerful thrust of his hips into you.

“Look at you, rutting up against me like a bitch in heat. So desperate and needy for me to the point where you’re crying,” A soft hand comes up to wipe away at the tears that continue to come down his face despite the release he’s getting in this moment. The taunting tone of your voice only encourages him to move faster, but he’s so backed up that all it takes is a couple of rough thrusts before warm strings of cum are shooting up inside of you. The embarrassment from cumming so fast only warranting more tears to stream down his puffy face.

“Couldn’t hold out, huh? Don’t tell me my sweet baby boy has turned into a one pump chump on me.” Your taunting has yet to stop, but from the way his cock twitches with each degradation that leaves your lips you’re not going to stop anytime soon.

“You just feel so good. Especially after not being able to cum in you all day long.” He defends himself, pulling out of you with a still swollen cock.

“How pathetic of you to have such an amazing cock that you can’t use right.” Your hand makes an impact with his already pink right cheek on his face, not harsh enough to hurt him but harsh enough to leave a pink imprint the shape of your hand there. Toji is only able to look down from embarrassment, face secretly growing more flustered as your humiliating words and actions continue.

You shift to sit up and push down on his chest so he’s now laying back, his still erect cock leveled out with your face now. Twitching in your direction from excitement still nowhere near satisfied yet.

“F-Fuck.” He breathed out verbally when your hand gripped the base of his cock, already driving him crazy and you hadn’t even given him your mouth yet. You couldn’t help but hold a cocky expression as you leaned down to circle the tip of his cock with your tongue before taking as much of him as you could fit into your mouth, enclosing your throat around him while you stroked the remainder of him with your hand.

Suckling softly around the salty skin like he had done your nipples earlier, you looked up at him through dark lashes and the sight was godly; muscles constricting with each moan that rumbled his chest, a thin sheet of sweat making his skin glisten in the dim lighting of the room, tears coating the chubs of his cheeks, and his eyes closed shut with his scarred lip tight between his sharp teeth. Not to mention the soft bucks of his hips up into your mouth forcing you to choke as he forced more of his cock down his throat until you had gentle tears falling from your eyes as well.

“So so good, mommy. You’re so good at sucking my cock, no one else does it better than you do.” The breathlessness of his voice lets you know that he’s already near the edge of his orgasm, the muscles of his stomach flexing every time you hollow out your cheeks and flick your tongue against his tip already tasting the salt of his cum.

Hazy eyes opened to peer down at you in all of your glory with his cock down your throat, one hand coming down to knead at your breasts as you worked your magic between his legs so good to the point where you had his toes curling and gripping at the silk white sheets of the bed.

“I’m going to-” The dark haired man wasn’t even able to get the rest of his sentence out before a string of ‘Mommy’s was leaving his pink lips as his stomach contracted until he was shooting a big load of backed up orgasms down your throat to the point where some of the white fluid was spilling from the sides of your mouth messily. But you didn’t stop at his orgasm, you kept going until every last drop of his cum had gone down your throat and you were positive he had come down from his orgasm.

It took his hand removing you from his cock forcefully for you to finally stop and even then it wasn’t a full force grab, his hand barely able to move due to his mind still being heavily clouded with pleasure. An override of senses crashing his system to the point where he was sure he would’ve gone into subspace if he hadn’t got you to stop sucking his cock.

“Are you okay?” You cooed out softly as you brought him into your arms so his head was resting against the soft plushness of your bests, gently stroking his hair and wiping away tears while he came down from that mind blowing orgasm.

“Mhm.” Was the only thing he managed to get out before smuggling his face against your chest completely. The two of you too tired to get up and take a shower.

“Let’s just stay like this for a while.” He let out in a soft breath.

#Spicy.#toji fushiguro #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen smut #toji fushiguro fanfic #jujustu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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justmypartner · 4 years ago

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Safe - 8x14 Speculation Fic

Writer’s Note: The idea for this came from the 8x14 synopsis, and while it technically still is a speculation fic, I don’t imagine the episode happening exactly like this. However, I did use what I’ve seen from bts photos and videos, as well as things Tracy has said in interviews to develop some of the scenes/details. This is probably my favorite piece that I’ve written in a while, so I hope you enjoy & thank you for reading!

Hailey rustled through her closet looking for her black wedged boots, trying her best to hurry as she knew Jay was waiting for her in the kitchen. She wasn’t much of a boot with a heel kind of girl, but she and Jay had special plans and she wanted to look nicer than usual. While they had been together for months, that night was the first time they were going on a proper date. They each decided at the beginning of their relationship that with both of their histories, they wanted to keep things simple and to themselves, which meant a lot of take-out and a lot of nights alone in their apartments. However, after Hailey mentioned something in passing about their clandestine time together starting to feel restrictive, Jay made plans at a fancy restaurant where he knew they wouldn’t run into any of their fellow team members.

“I don’t mean to rush you, but our reservation is in 45 minutes and it will take us about 30 to get there,” Jay said softly, peeking his head around the door frame.

“I know, I know. I’m trying to- finally!” she shouted upon finding the boots in the corner of her closet. She brought a knee into her chest as she pulled a boot onto her foot before switching to the other leg and doing the same.

“Okay, I just need to get my phone and wallet and then I’ll be-“ her words were cut short as she caught sight of him for the first time that evening. He was wearing a dress shirt with a light jacket, and his dark jeans curled over the top of a pair of black dress boots. It was much different from his typical, rugged workwear, but she took note of how well the look suited him.

“Wow you clean up nice, Halstead,” she told him with a dimpled smile as he blushed, extending a hand down to help her rise from the floor. Once she was standing, the small space between them closed quickly as she wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing her lips to his briefly. While the heels added extra height, she still needed to raise on her tiptoes to meet his mouth.

“Not too bad yourself, Detective,” he uttered as her lips pulled away. His hands grasped her waist, holding her steady as she remained on her toes. They stayed pressed against one another for a moment looking into each other’s eyes, and just when he was about to go in for another kiss, she fell on her heels and pressed the tips of her fingers against his chest.

“Normally, I would indulge in this further, but we’re going to miss our reservation and I’m starving,” she teased, moving past him to retrieve her phone, keys, and wallet, along with her jacket slung over the back of the couch.

When they arrived at the restaurant, Hailey was charmed by how nice it was. It was far different from the usual dive bars and pubs they went to after work, and part of her even felt like it was too nice for them to be at.

“Halstead, party of 2,” he told the hostess, holding up 2 fingers with the hand that wasn’t intertwined with Hailey’s.

A stifled smile came across her face and she nodded her head towards the floor as they waited for someone to guide them to their table. It seemed surreal to be standing in the middle of a fancy restaurant with him, holding his hand and waiting to be seated for a romantic dinner. She couldn’t tell if it was because of how long she secretly pined over him or if it was because being with Jay felt like her first real love story, but there were many moments when being with him felt like some fantasy, and that moment was one of them. At one point in time, being with him was something she only dreamt about. It was a thought that crossed her mind when his gaze lingered a little longer than it should or when an accidental touch sent her heart racing. Before they took that leap, she worried being with him would mean giving up being his partner. It was that fear that made her keep her feelings bottled up for so long, but as they proved time and time again, as partners, as lovers, and as both - they were good together. She turned her head and placed a light kiss on his shoulder. It was a tangible reminder that he was hers to kiss, but it also grounded her in that moment that felt like just another dream.

The dinner itself was incredible. Hailey officially added the restaurant to her list of favorite food spots in Chicago, and they spent the entire meal giggling and sharing stories they had never shared before. By the end of it, Jay was stuffed, but Hailey insisted they order a dessert, her sweet tooth getting the best of her. Jay teased her for ordering the lava cake, the most indulgent option on the menu, but she was able to tease him right back when he asked the waiter for a second spoon when it was brought to the table.

Just as Jay was about to pay the check, his phone began to ring, Voight’s name popping up across the screen as he pulled out his wallet.

“Uh oh,” Hailey said as he picked it up to answer. Jay spoke with their boss briefly, mainly nodding his head and muttering brief affirmations every few seconds.

“I think she’s out tonight, but I can call her and swing by to pick her up wherever she is,” Jay said, shooting Hailey a wide-eyed look as he quickly came up with an excuse as to why they’d be riding in together all dressed up.

“Alright hot stuff, as much as I’d like to keep this night going, it seems we caught a case,” he told her, as he stood from his chair. He took out his wallet, counting out enough money to cover the check and tip before resting the bills under his glass on the table.

“At least we made it through dessert,” she said, sending him a childlike smile.

“Oh, that was dessert? I had something else in mind for that,” he replied smugly, Hailey’s face turning bright red at his suggestive words.

“Oh really?” She questioned, taking a step towards him to close the gap between them. “You’d better clean up that mind before we get to the scene,” she whispered with a chuckle, twirling around swiftly and making her way towards the door as he shook his head at her tease. His hand found the small of her back as they made their way out the door, and he placed a kiss against her temple, knowing it would probably be the last display of affection he could show before they had to enter partner mode.

When they arrived at the house, Kevin and Voight were outside talking to a few patrol officers. Hailey’s mood had changed drastically upon arriving at the scene. She couldn’t explain why, but she felt uneasy as she jumped out of the truck and secured her badge and gun to her hip.

As they approached, Kevin pursed his lips together and let out a two-tone whistle as he caught sight of Hailey.

“Damn girl, sorry to pull you away from whatever had you all cleaned up,” he told her, cocking his head to the side as she shook her head at him with a smirk. Her eyes caught sight of Voight’s as they darted between her and Jay and she became nervous, imagining that he was putting two and two together. She decided to change the subject quickly before any further comments could ensue.

“Oh, shut up,” she told him. “What do we got?” She asked, spinning her head around the scene and taking in the myriad of patrol cars.

“I think it’s something you have to unfortunately see for yourself. I do have to say, you might want to brace yourself for this one,” he said, turning to lead them inside. Jay and Hailey met eyes, sharing a look of concern before turning and following Kevin and Voight inside.

Walking through the front door, they collectively grimaced at the overwhelming smell of blood that tinged their noses. They hesitantly made their way deeper into the house and Hailey’s heart dropped when she caught sight of a family of four, a couple and their two kids, all tied up and shot dead on the living room floor. That uneasy feeling from before suddenly made sense. She clenched her jaw, groaning at the sight as she looked away, recognizing the same unsettled look in the face of each of her fellow officers.

“What the hell happened here?” Jay asked, looking over at Kevin for the answer.

“This is the second home invasion robbery in this neighborhood this week. Robbery-homicide has been working these guys since the first one, but so far they’ve come up with no leads. Whoever these guys are, they’re professionals. It’s a two-man crew, they come in through the back, dressed head to toe in dark attire, get what they need, kill the family, and get out. They’re in and out in less than 10 minutes and they’ve got a getaway driver who knows how to avoid traffic cameras. Robbery-homicide tells me these guys killed a family of three earlier this week, and that the dad had bruises on his body in addition to the gunshot wound that killed him. Now, what’s interesting is in this case, the mom is the one with these bruises. These families were definitely targeted, we’re just not sure how or why,” he explained causing them each to frown.

While Kevin explained the case, Hailey fell silent as the details brought her back to a string of cases she had worked during her time in robbery-homicide. She spent weeks chasing after a crew targeting families who had shopped at a high-end jewelry store, only that connection was missed for the first half of the investigation. By the time she and her team had finally caught on to why the families were being targeted, four families had already been killed, five kids below the age of ten among the victims. Hailey beat herself up for months knowing if they had caught onto the pattern sooner, they could have saved more of the families - more of the kids. This case sounded eerily similar, and she was bound to not let history repeat itself.

“How’d we catch this if robbery-homicide was on it?” Jay asked, shoving his hands in his pockets as his gaze intentionally avoided the gruesome scene before them.

“Miller assigned it to us. She wanted a fresh pair of eyes. She’s getting a lot of heat from the press about there being no leads, especially since this is a high-end neighborhood. Plus, these guys have already killed three tender-aged kids. I want the animals on a stick,” Voight replied straightly.

“Do we know what they’re after?” Hailey asked, her brain already working to establish a connection.

“No, and that’s what’s given our robbery-homicide guys so much trouble. The only connection is that both families have had pretty high-tech safes somewhere in the house. Last house it was in a bedroom closet, but this one was in the basement. It seems like these guys make their way in, beat the location and combo of the safe out of one of the parents, get what they need, and off the entire family before hauling ass out,” Kevin told them.

“Well, I’ve worked cases like this one before. If we’re going to get anywhere, we need to figure out what it was they wanted and how they knew about it. We’re on a time crunch now, because it’s only a matter of time before these guys strike again,” she said, turning and leaving the house without waiting for any of their responses.

After leaving the scene, they all made their way back to the district to go over the files robbery-homicide had sent over. They browsed over the files for a couple of hours before Voight sent them home, needing them to rest up and refresh before they dove completely into the case the next day. The familiarity of the case was itching at Hailey, but as much as she wanted to see something that everyone else was missing, she came up short in every place she looked.

The next morning, she and Jay got coffee together. She had been quiet since they caught the case. Jay picked up on her shift in mood that occurred from the restaurant to the scene, but he left it alone to give her the space she seemed to need. He eventually built up the nerve to ask what was wrong. She told him about her old case and how much it meant to catch the guys and quickly. He agreed, admitting to her how much seeing those dead kids struck a nerve. He reassured her they would catch them one way or another. As they walked out of the coffee shop, a call came over the radio:

Units over the city-wide, we got calls of a home invasion. 1433 N State Street

“Gold Coast, that’s the same neighborhood as the other home invasions, you think that’s our guys?” Jay asked looking over at Hailey as he held the radio up.

“Could be, let’s roll on it,” she told him, rushing towards his truck as he followed, telling dispatch they were taking the call.

They rolled up to the scene, carefully clearing the house together, but they arrived too late, and the offenders were gone. They found the couple who lived there in the same position as the last two families, only they still had a pulse. Hailey tried asking them what the offenders were after, but all she got were incoherent mutterings from each victim. They both died before ambulances could arrive, but just the same as the other cases, only the husband had signs of bruising in addition to the gunshot wound, and a safe was found in the back of a linen closet. While crime techs combed the house, Hailey made her way out to the back garden, finding a hose to rinse the victim’s blood from her hands. Her hands were shaking so much, she couldn’t quite scrub enough to get them clean. Jay caught sight of her through the window and wade his way out to her, grabbing her hands in his to steady them. She looked up at him as he nodded his head, taking the hose and helping her scrub her hands clean. Once they were clear, he held her hands in his for a minute longer, quickly releasing them when someone cleared their throat behind them. When they turned around Voight was standing there, his hands deep in his pockets, eyeing the two of them as they took a step back from one another. If he didn’t know about them before, he definitely did then.

“You get anything new on these guys?” He asked, a knowing look plastered across his face.

“No, Sarge. They were gone by the time we pulled up,” Jay told him, dropping the hose to the ground.

“Well, get back to it. We’ve wasted enough time as it is, we’ve got to catch these guys,” he said bluntly, turning and making his way back into the house. The two of them stayed there frozen, shaking their heads at how careless they had been to let him walk up on them like that.

Back at the district, they scrubbed the lives of all of the victims, still coming up with no connection between any of them. Nighttime arrived once again with no leads and no suspects, so they decided to call it and head home. That night, Hailey laid awake, tossing and turning for hours. She tried every method she knew to fight off the insomnia that had kept her restless, but nothing was able to lull her into a slumber. It was the case that was keeping her up, and her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling while a million theories circulated through her mind. Something about it just didn’t make sense, and she couldn’t shake the idea that they had been missing an obvious connection. The faces of the couple she tried to save earlier that day remained at the forefront of her mind, and after a while of fighting off the urge to get out of bed and chase that gut feeling, she finally slipped out from the grasp of Jay’s limp arm, carefully retreating from the bed as to not wake him. She made her way over to her closet, pulling on a pair of jeans and slipping a sweatshirt over her head before grabbing her badge and gun from the nightstand and sliding her phone into her back pocket. She made her way to her office, retrieving a sticky note and pen to write Jay a message letting him know where she was going.

Couldn’t sleep. Gone back to the district, needed to go over the case again. ♡

She tiptoed back into the bedroom and placed the note on her pillow where she knew he’d see if he happened to wake up. She grabbed her coat and opened the front door, slowly guiding it closed on her way out, still trying her best to be as quiet as possible. She wasn’t sure what she would be looking for when she arrived at the district, but she had hoped that studying it alone and in the quietness of the empty bullpen would provide her with a new perspective. She made herself a cup of coffee before walking over to her desk and opening up every file they had on the case. She paced the floor of the empty space, flipping through files and studying photos until she was sure there was nothing to see. Finally, she hoisted herself onto the top of her desk, pulling her knees into her chest and eyeing the board for something they may have been missing. Suddenly, she heard the beeping of the keypad and the clanging of the door opening and closing downstairs. She checked her phone to see the time. It was 4 am, and she couldn’t imagine who else would be up that early. She did a double-take as Jay made his way around the corner, a look of exhaustion on his face as he sent her a lazy smile.

“What are you doing here?” She asked him, unclasping her hands from around her knees and pulling herself to the edge of the desk.

“Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing,” he said with a smirk, pulling his jacket from his shoulders and resting it on the back of her desk chair.

“I couldn’t sleep. Something about this case was keeping me up, so I figured instead of lying in bed and staring at the ceiling for hours I would try and make myself useful. You didn’t have to come check on me. I’m fine,” she told him, the corners of her lips curling up into a reassuring smile as he came to stand over her.

“I couldn’t go back to sleep once I realized you were gone,” he told her softly with a slight pout before turning to lean on the desk beside her. “So, what have you figured out?” He asked, his attention turning to the board before them. She sighed, crossing her arms and staring at the crime scene photos as he waited for her response.

“I don’t know. I mean these families have no connections. The kids all go to different schools, they all work at completely different places, they don’t even shop at the same stores, I can’t seem to figure out where their lives intersect, so I just don’t understand why they’re being targeted,” she ran down, looking over at Jay whose eyes surveyed the information on the board.

“Maybe it’s about more than just the robbery. I mean they’re taking time to kill every member of the family, including the kids. Unless these guys are just straight-up psychopaths, it sounds like whatever is going on could be personal,” Jay suggested, looking over at his partner whose eyes were transfixed on one particular photo on the case board. His words sparked something in her, and she caught sight of the words Resurgence Tech written in bold font on a magnet on the refrigerator from the second crime scene. She knew the name was familiar, but she couldn’t remember how.

She pulled out the files from each of the cases and found what she was looking for. An email address registered in the husband’s name from the first robbery ending in resurgencetech.co. Looking at the other files, she was able to establish a connection between all of them leading back to a company previously known as Resurgence Tech. As she and Jay investigated through the night, they were able to figure out what was being stolen and why it was worth killing over. Resurgence Tech was a company co-founded by four individuals, Ryan Ethers, victim of the first robbery, Scarlett Jameson, victim of the second, Max Lin, victim from the third, and Lianne Meadows, who lived in a house in the Gold Coast District close to the previous victims. Five years prior, Resurgence Tech created a breakthrough idea for a high-tech medical device that had the potential to significantly change the practice of medicine. However, after hours of gathering information and records, the two detectives found out that the design was actually stolen from two brothers who had developed the original idea for a project they were working on in college. Resurgence used their power and influence to discredit the claims of the brothers, blacklisting them from the entire industry, and eventually pulling the design before it could ever meet the market. Not long after, Resurgence shut down for good, liquidating its assets and washing its hands of its shady actions for good. Digging deeper into the four co-founders of Resurgence and knowing more about where to look, Hailey and Jay were able to find email exchanges between them all discussing what to do with the patent plans for the stolen design in case there ever came a time to reintroduce the tech to the market. The strategy was to split the plans between the four of them, each keeping a piece locked up on a thumb drive hidden in a safe.

As soon as the sun rose that morning, Hailey called Voight and the rest of the team to come in. She explained the connection and identified the brothers as suspects, describing how the robberies must have been to obtain the thumb drives and get vengeance for the way Resurgence screwed them over. The situation had a significant impact on the brothers’ lives, leading them to turn to a life of crime, describing how they got connected with an armed robbery crew, and began pulling jobs across the city before getting caught only a year after Resurgence blacklisted them from the tech industry. They were released early due to overcrowding and good behavior, so they got out, hacked into the emails of the individuals that ruined their lives, and found out the design was out there, still viable to be profited from. Running on anger and revenge and using the skills they developed in their time with the robbery crew, they sought to take back what was theirs. They were operating under the theory that the two brothers were committing the crimes, and a guy that used to run with them in their old robbery crew was taking on the role as the getaway driver.

“Well, let’s go scoop ‘em up,” Voight said upon hearing the rundown of the case.

“Sarge, as much as I want to bring these guys in, we don’t have any evidence on them. There’s been no DNA, no prints, no witnesses tying these guys to these cases. There’s no way they’re going to talk, and if we bring them in, they’re just going to get released even if we keep them for the full 48 hours. By then they’ll have already made plans to run,” Jay said.

“These guys have killed nine people, three of those people being little kids. If we don’t act now, they’re going to strike again and that’s going to be blood on our hands. We bring them in, and we make them talk. I don’t care if we have to threaten them, or if we get ‘em to flip on each other. Either way, we’re not just going to sit around and wait for something to happen on this one. Not when we’ve got a pile of bodies growing the longer we sit here with our thumbs up our asses. So, Hailey, Jay, I want you two going to pick these guys up,” Voight bit back, a distinct annoyance in his voice. He had been on edge throughout the entirety of the case, but his temper seemed to have only increased after walking up on Jay and Hailey at the scene a day prior.

As much as Hailey wanted to side with Voight, she knew Jay was right. Bringing them in with no evidence and no witnesses placing them at any of the scenes would only guarantee them getting to walk, something she was determined to not let happen.

“Sarge, we can’t,” she muttered, swallowing what felt like a rock in her throat as his face fell with bitter surprise.

“What?” He challenged, his head dropping down as he cut his eyes at her.

“Jay is right. We can’t just jump on these guys with no evidence or else we risk losing them for good. I know you want to get these guys quick, but there’s got to be a better play,” she replied, taking note of the uncomfortable looks expressed by the other Intelligence members who quietly observed the interaction from the other side of the room. She watched as he pulled the inside of his cheek between his teeth.

“Remind me, who’s the sergeant of this unit?” The question carried a great deal of weight, and everyone in the room fell silent as his eyes travelled between each of the five intelligence members. “You don’t have to agree with what I say, but there’s a chain of command here and I expect you to listen to me. Now, unless there’s another sergeant in this unit I’m unaware of, I’m in charge. So, I’m only going to say this one last time. Jay, Hailey, go pick these guys up. I have to go update Miller on what’s going on. Those guys better be sitting in interrogation when I get back. End of,” he roared, making his way past the officers who remained frozen in place.

While Adam, Kevin, and Kim went back to work, Hailey grabbed her jacket, heading down the hallway out to the parking lot to follow the sergeant’s orders.

“Hailey, wait,” Jay called after her, grabbing her arm and pulling her into the observation room where he knew the others wouldn’t be able to hear them.

“What?” She questioned, a look of concern on her face as he silently thought through his words.

“I think I have another play,” he told her.

“Jay, he seemed- “she began before he cut her off.

“No, I know, but you know I’m right. We bring these guys in now and these families will never get the justice they deserve. We know there’s only one family left on their list, Lianne Meadows. The only move we have left is to catch these guys in the act. I say we sit on her house and wait for the robbery to go down, snatch them up, and then we have the guns tying them to the other cases and we have leverage to get them to flip if we need to,” Jay told her, the look in his eyes pleading with her to agree.

She knew Jay was right, but she also knew what going against Voight’s orders would mean. By that point, it was safe to assume he knew about their relationship. She knew that alone would be cause for him to assign them to different partners or even to different units. Teaming up and going against him would only increase the chances of him pulling the trigger on that. From the start of the case, she knew she wanted to catch the guys no matter what, but she never imagined it would involve making a decision that could possibly jeopardize her partnership with Jay. Every part of her knew his way was the only option that gave them a chance of making things right, yet she knew there would be a cost to them both going against Voight’s orders.

“You’re right… but let me do it alone,” she told him, causing him to frown at her words.

“What? No, I can’t let you go after these guys by yourself,” he argued, a combination of concern and annoyance in his voice.

“Jay, if we do this together it’s only going to give him reason to split us up. I have a feeling we’re already on his hit list after everything that has happened these past few days, and if he sees that we’re siding with each other… going rogue against his orders? He could reassign us partners, or worse, ship one of us off again. You, this partnership, our relationship, it all means too much to me to risk. If I go alone, only I take the fall, and he doesn’t have reason to use our relationship against us,” Hailey told him, moving a hand to his chest as she spoke.

Pushing him away and crossing that line by herself was the only way she knew how to protect both their relationship and their partnership. With her history of crossing lines, she had hoped it would just seem like another questionable decision she made all on her own, and he wouldn’t have reason to punish both of them by splitting them up.

“Hailey, I’m not just letting you go there without backup,” he finally said, his jaw set tightly as he peered into her eyes.

“I’ll have Trudy assign some patrol guys for backup. That way you and the others don’t take fall back from Voight, but I won’t be going in alone,” she replied, moving the hand from his chest to cup his face. “I’ll be fine,” she told him.

He nodded hesitantly before sliding his fingers down her arm and wrapping his hand around hers.

“Be careful,” he insisted, squeezing her hand lightly.

“Of course,” she nodded back before opening the door and disappearing down the hall.

She sat out front of the house, the patrol officers waiting a street over for her signal. It had been about an hour and she had already dodged two calls from Voight. Her patience was running thin with every minute that passed without a sign of the crew. Then, she spotted a dark van creeping down the street and she slumped down in her seat, trying to avoid being seen. As the van approached the house, two men rolled out of the back door as the van maintained a low speed before stopping down at the end of the street. The second the men made it around the back of the house, Hailey radioed the patrol guys, climbing out of her car and drawing her weapon as she followed the offenders around the back. When the patrol guys caught up, she nodded to one of them, signaling them to open the back door and enter the home. The second they made it through the doorway, they were catching fire. Hailey took cover behind a door frame, keying her radio attached to her vest.

“10-1, 10-1, shots fired at the police, 1327 N Dearborn Street. Be advised patrol and plainclothes officers on scene,” she yelled into the radio, securing her free hand back on her gun before motioning the officers to press forward. They made their way into the house, carefully clearing each room as they passed through. When they made it to the front of the house, she caught sight of one of the guys escaping out the front door.

“5021 Henry I’m in foot pursuit of a suspect in an alleyway going west across the street from the original location,” she called out into the radio as she pumped her legs with each step, trying to control her breath as she chased after the suspect. He rounded a corner and she slowed down, holding her gun out to peer around the corner before continuing the pursuit. The next thing she knew, her gun was being kicked out of her hands and she was being thrown against the wall, hitting the side of her head against brick and feeling blood trickle down her face. She brought a knee up into her attacker’s groin, giving her a brief opening to connect an elbow with the side of his head. Falling to the ground, the man grabbed at her ankle, bringing her down with him before grabbing hold of her vest and laying a fist into her jaw. The blow sent her backward, shooting pain into the side of her face. She caught sight of her gun on the ground a few feet away and went to crawl for it, but he grabbed at her leg, drawing her backward toward him as she stretched her fingertips towards the handle. He was stronger than her, and he managed to pull her back enough to regain hold of her vest, winding up to lay another fist into her face. Before he could, she wrapped a leg around his, twirling him over so she was hovering over him. She began laying fist after fist into his masked face until she suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder. She flinched, sending her elbow backwards towards the person. It was grabbed instantly, and she wiggled in the grasp before turning around and taking in the familiar green eyes of her partner.

“Hailey, we got him,” he said, holstering his gun and grabbing her by each arm to pull her up from the ground. Kim came from behind him, removing the mask from the offender and rolling him over to place him in cuffs. Meanwhile, Jay wrapped Hailey in his arms, bringing his chin down to her head as they swayed together in an embrace. Her breath was heavy and shaky, and she felt tears pool at the corners of her eyes. She was overwhelmed by everything that had just happened, but his arms wound tightly around her helped steady her breathing.

“It’s okay Hailey, you’re safe. I’ve got you,” he reassured her through a whisper. She took comfort in his words, and despite the pain surging through her head, she buried it deeper into his chest.

Luckily, they had reached the target and her family in time before the offenders could do any harm. Hailey went to Med to get her head checked out. A few stitches and several scans later, she was cleared, making her way back to the district to take whatever repercussions Voight had in store for her. The second she made it up the stairs, everyone’s eyes fell on her and she just flashed them a gentle smile and nod, signaling to them she was okay. Voight came to the doorway of his office, and she didn’t miss a beat heading straight towards him. However, just before she reached the door, his attention shifted over towards Jay at his desk.

“You too, Jay,” was all the sergeant said before turning and moving back into his office. Jay stood, making his way over and closing the door behind him before coming to stand beside Hailey across from the Voight’s desk. He looked over at them silently for a moment, Hailey setting her jaw tightly as she braced for whatever was to come.

“Are we just making a habit out of disobeying me and questioning my orders? Is that what we’re doing now?” He asked them. They remained silent. “Because if that’s what we’re doing and you’ve got a problem with how I run things, there’s the door. You can get out right now,” he told them sternly.

“Sarge, we needed to get those guys. Catching them in the act was the only way. I did what I had to do to make sure those families got justice,” Hailey said, her eyes remaining fixed with his.

“I told you to pick them up, bring them in, and instead you went your own way, putting that family, yourself, and a couple of patrol officers at risk. I could suspend you over this,” he argued, a distinct tension building in his voice.

“Sarge, it was my idea. If anyone deserves punishment, it’s me,” Jay admitted, causing Hailey’s head to swivel his direction, a cross look on her face as the words left his mouth.

“No, that’s not… Look, I went there on my own. I’m the only one to blame here,” Hailey argued causing him to shake his head before them.

“Okay, look. I know there’s something going on between you two, I have known for a while,” the second the words left his mouth, their eyes met briefly, and they both swallowed hard before turning back to him. “I decided to turn a blind eye because you two were able to keep it strictly professional here at work as far as I was concerned. But what happened today, what’s happening right now… this lying to me and covering for each other is not welcome in my unit. This is your warning and it’s the only one you’re going to get. As long as I’m in charge of this unit, you listen to me. You don’t go off-book, you don’t go behind my back because you disagree with what I say, and you certainly don’t let whatever is going on between you two change the way you make decisions. I know you guys are going to have each other’s backs… as partners and as whatever else, but the second that trumps having my back and the team's back, the way it did today, it undermines my authority and puts all of us at risk. If anything happens again like what happened today, you’re both done, and I’ll make sure you never work in the same unit again. Is that clear?” He asked them.

“Understood,” Jay replied.

“Yes, Sarge,” Hailey uttered, her heart rate dropping significantly with relief.

They drove home that night in silence, partly from exhaustion and partly from trying to process everything that had happened in the past 72 hours. Three days ago, they were on their first official date, celebrating their relationship for what felt like the first time, and now they were coming down from what could have easily been the end of their job and their partnership. Even though she hated the way it had to go down, she stood by having Jay’s back and trying to protect their relationship, even if it meant muddying the waters between them and Voight. From the start of the case, she was determined to catch the guys, chasing a small sense of redemption she felt she needed for that case she worked so many years prior. She wasn’t happy about everything that happened, particularly everything that went wrong, but she was able to save a family and get some form of justice for the others, and she stood by that firmly. It wasn’t the first time she had challenged Voight or crossed lines, but it was the first time she was genuinely fearful of the consequences. She was just glad her fears didn’t come to fruition. She looked over at Jay in the driver’s seat, and she remembered the way he told her she was safe after pulling her from the attacker only hours prior. Safe wasn’t something she had felt often in her life, but she certainly felt it when she was with him. She smiled to herself in the dark, satisfied to know that at least for that day, despite everything that happened, their relationship and their partnership were two things she could still consider safe.

#upstead #jay x hailey #hailey x jay #chicago pd #hailey upton #jay halstead #upstead fic

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gohyuck · 4 years ago

Text

prologue | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

pairing: greaser!jeno lee x rich!reader; part of a collab by @neovisioned

genre: greaser!au; runaways!au; criminal!au; angst/fluff/smut

word count: 10.4k

warnings: infidelity, miscarriages of justice, johnny’s a huge asshole in this i’m so sorry, a lot of straight up classism, explicit mentions of sex (fingering), vehicular manslaughter, armed robbery, general unarmed violence and fighting, pistol-whipping

a/n: so i know a lot of people loved the fact that my most recent long fic (surgeon jaemin!) focused on side characters, but i’ve made this fic pretty jeno-centric on purpose, and i hope it’s still as enjoyable as possible for readers!

May 29, 1957

He’s always been easy on the eyes.

It’s shallow, and a great part of him knows it. Still, as far back as he can remember, Jeno’s always had one thing, and one thing only: his looks. When he was 7 and starving on the streets, terrified of going back to a broken, lifeless home, he’d use his adorable face to elicit pity and pizza from the aging man who ran the local diner. When he was 15 and growing into himself, his blossoming attractiveness got the girl in his geometry class to give him her homework to copy off of, free of charge. When he’d first started working at the garage, a high school dropout at the age of 17, it was his ‘rugged handsomeness’ - review courtesy of the college girls who trailed their rich boyfriends as they searched for cheap fueling and car repairs - that called in tips by the handful.

Jeno’s always had his looks. That’s why, even though he thinks it’s silly of him, he can’t help but look at you with eyes that are overflowing with apprehension. He grips the blond hair-dye just a little too tightly, fingers making what’ll be lasting indents in the plastic box.

“Do I really have to do this?”

You arch an eyebrow, wrenching the dye out of his iron-grip as you do. Jeno watches, feeling more helpless than he has been this whole time as you shake its contents out into your hand. The bleach and the agent you mix it with fall into your open palm, followed by the barely darker dye. You read the instructions over once, twice, before finally looking up to meet Jeno’s trained gaze.

It’s all you can do to heave a heavy sigh.

“You were framed for a robbery, and then you stole a car and accidentally kidnapped me, but the hill you choose to die on is dyeing your hair? Really? If you’re like this now, what are you going to do when we get tattooed?”

“I - We - Tattoos?” Jeno squawks, and you can’t help but sigh again before rolling your eyes.

It’s going to be a long night. Amidst it all, you can’t help but think back to how everything started.

As Jeno keeps his glare trained on the dye, you can’t help but assume that he’s doing the same.

♕ ♕ ♕

Day One: May 25, 1957

Cherry red lips, wanton giggles, a skirt that’s too short, even by what she calls her ‘very own tramp standards’. Jeno can’t get enough of it all - can’t get enough of her, he’s so intoxicated by her. It’s in the way her head falls back, her mouth falls open, her knees fall down, allowing her legs to fall wide. He leans over her, his well muscled arms making it easy to hover instead of collapse on top of her as he coaxes her release from her, two fingers deep in her spasming cunt while his thumb works away at her clit. Jeno’s close - so close - to what he wants, but he doesn’t dare to chase after it; instead of pressing his lips to hers and tasting that enticing lipstick for himself, he settles for pressing his forehead against hers, letting his soft breath land against the silent scream her mouth is currently displaying.

Her chest heaves, her next breaths come out in gasps. As she settles down, Jeno can’t keep himself from dipping his head down, pressing a gentle and completely chaste kiss against the skin of her stomach between her belly-button and her underwear line. She squirms at the feeling of his warm lips against her now-hot skin, and he chuckles against her body before pulling away for good, though not before wiping his fingers on her thigh.

“‘S that good, Jess?” He quirks an eyebrow, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket for her to wipe the sweat across her forehead with. “There’s grease on that s- yeah, that’s the good side.”

“You sure know how to charm a girl, Jeno Lee,” The woman responds dryly, though he doesn’t miss the pleased smirk that crosses her features. She swipes at her inner thighs once before tossing the handkerchief - or, really, rag - at the mechanic, who catches it with ease and stuffs it back where it came from.

“You’re the one who wanted to be fingered in the passenger seat of Johnny Suh’s car, filthy girl,” Jeno throws back, not surprised when Jess swats at his arm at the mention of her boyfriend. She loves Johnny, Jeno knows she does, but that doesn’t stop her from begging for Jeno’s fingers or tongue or, if she’s got time, his dick, whenever she stops by the City Motors garage that Jeno’s been employed at for the past two months. She always comes in driving Johnny’s red Chevy Bel Air convertible. He knows it’s bad of her and bad for him, especially if Johnny ever gets wind of it, but he can’t find it in himself to stop, not when it’s free spank bank material.

Jeno’s probably a bad person for it. He doesn’t really care - after all, it’s just sex. If emotions were involved - and they never are, not for Jeno, not when it comes to getting his dick wet - it might be a different story. That, and it’s Johnny Suh’s girl.

Jeno fucking hates Johnny Suh.

“Say, speaking of John,” Jess says, seemingly sufficiently cooled down by now. “I keep meaning to and forgetting to ask - you’re the same age as his sister, aren’t you?”

“(Name)?” Jeno asks, his brow furrowing when he gets a nod of confirmation. “Yeah, I mean, we were in the same homeroom and shit this past year. Why?”

“Just curious. You’ll probably see her a lot more often from now on, honestly - she got a job at the diner when they had that hiring spree last week.” Jess flicks her head vaguely towards Jeno, and he knows it’s because, if he turns around and looks out the window, he’ll be staring directly at Kim’s, what can be considered the only good eatery on this side of town. He tries his best to seem even vaguely interested at what Jess is saying - going so far as to crane his neck backwards in order to look at the same diner he sees day in and day out - but she calls his bluff easily. Instead of saying anything, she just rolls her neck out before finally shoving the car door open.

“Say ‘hi’ to her sometimes, y’know?” She asks, peering in once she’s standing. “For me. Forget that she’s a Suh sometimes. She needs to talk to more people, anyways.” Jess states, her gaze imploring. Still, Jeno can’t help but scoff at the last thing she says, prompting an affronted look from the woman who’s looking expectantly at him.

“(Name)? Needing to talk to more people? Everyone adores her, she’s always with some new person getting into some bullshit. Honestly, she probably needs to talk to less people at this point.” Jeno explains himself so as to not garner anymore adversity from his fuckbuddy, though the way he squints in mild disbelief at Jess’ suggestion annoys her anyways. The mild petulance that comes through only serves to remind Jess that Jeno is, in fact, only 19 - and while her being 21 doesn’t change their dynamic much, it does bring about some slight difference in maturity.

She tends to overlook it because the benefits seem to outweigh the detractors.

As Jess makes eye contact with Jeno, though, she knows he won’t listen to her friendly suggestion. She doesn’t know why she bothers, sometimes - even though she’s only in it for the sex, he’s really only in it for the sex. As far as anyone’s concerned, Jeno Lee does only two things, and he does them well: fix cars and fuck. Considering that he’s a high school drop-out with no plans of college or trade school, Jess supposes that he doesn’t have much else to do.

“Whatever,” She finally acquiesces, not bothering to return the small smirk Jeno throws at her. “What’s the time?”

“It’s about 4:45,” The mechanic responds without even checking his wristwatch, though Jess doesn’t doubt that he’s right. “What time’s he coming by for his car again?”

“Couple minutes past 5. Got a smoke? I need one.” Jess is still peering into the car from outside, her expression making it seem like she’s waiting for something more than a quick cigarette break. Jeno holds her gaze steady for a beat, two beats, before he breaks away, pushing the door open on his side so he can finally get out too. After all, the car is honestly kind of cramped, and absolutely not ideal for what they’ve been getting up to in it… week after week after week.

“You should tell your boyfriend to stop fucking up his car,” Jeno states simply, leaning over the fabric top of Johnny’s convertible. It’d been the left sideview mirror today, the transmission last week, the rims the week before. It wouldn’t surprise Jeno if Jess drives in four days from now with a crack in the windshield and her underwear already around her knees. Jess says nothing, only leveling Jeno’s stare. He waits, finally breaking it for the second time in a row once he’s sure she’s sweating a little bit in her new boots. The small smirk he allows himself as he beckons for her to follow him back into the garage is reward enough for him. There’s a pack of Camels set on his work bench, open in such a way that Jeno knows Jaemin must’ve taken one earlier when they’d started their shift together.

“Help yourself, doll.” Jeno says, gesturing vaguely towards it after pulling a cigarette out for himself. He swipes the lighter off of Jaemin’s desk - his friend’s on a late lunch break at the diner right now anyways - and uses it to light up his own smoke before tossing it underhandedly to Jess.

“Don’t ‘doll’ me,” She scoffs, her words muffled around the cigarette that’s now in between her lips. He admires her hands, her nimble red-tipped fingers as she lights it up, pulling it out from her mouth and letting it dangle between two fingers before setting the lighter down on top of the pack. “You know only Johnny’s allowed to call me that.”

“If he had that much of a handle on you, you wouldn’t be crying for my cock every week now, would you?”

“I don’t cry,” Jess protests, and Jeno finds both her sudden indignance, and the fact that this is the hill she chooses to die on, kind of cute. He has no feelings toward her, sure, but it doesn’t mean he can’t admire her for what she is: art. And someone’s gotta nail masterpieces against walls, right?

“You get the gist.” Jeno brushes her complaint aside with ease, blowing smoke out through one corner of his mouth before he speaks. “Tell him to watch where he parks so he doesn’t screw up his mirrors again. There’s gotta be some limit on daddy’s money.”

“Why don’t you tell him yourself?” Jess throws back, and Jeno can’t stop himself from rolling his eyes.

“His highness won’t talk to a lowly greaser like me, obviously. Probably thinks I spend all my tip money on hair oil or some stupid shit. You really picked one for yourself, Jess. Outdid yourself on the asshattery of the last one. The fact that he makes you drop his car off when he’s the one who screws it up should be a red flag itself.” Even talking about Johnny has a pit of dread growing in the bottom of Jeno’s stomach, and he drops his half-smoked cigarette to the ground before crushing it under his work boots. He knows it isn’t the cig making him feel sick, but he suddenly has no appetite left for nicotine anymore.

“You’re lucky our friendship predates my relationship, or I’d fuck you up for saying shit like that,” Jess warns, though there’s no real bite behind her bark. She drops her cigarette to the ground too, and Jeno steps on it so she doesn’t have to.

“Can’t believe you’re deciding to keep some kind of allegiance to me based solely on the fact that our moms used to stick us together when they went to whore around downtown while our dads were being drunken good-for-nothings somewhere or the other,” Jeno scoffs in faux disbelief even as his eyes fold into half moons. Jess allows herself a small grin at the expense of their younger selves as well. They both know better than anyone that shared traumas can only make bonds stronger. “When’ll you tell your prissy, pompous, prick of a partner that you’re one of the lowlifes he hates so much?”

“He already knows that I wasn’t… well off before I got my job at the salon,” Jess replies carefully, doing her best not to incriminate her boyfriend in the eyes of someone who already loathes him. “Besides, he honestly isn’t that bad. He says shit sometimes, yeah, but he knocks it off if I tell him to. Shouldn’t affect whether or not you talk to (Name), anyways.”

Jess slips you into the conversation so easily that it almost gives Jeno whiplash trying to process what she’s said. When he’s done, it’s all he can do but to let out a confused query.

“The hell does (Name) have to do with this?”

“I mean, you’re the same age, and you kind of know each other. I just figured that...”

Suddenly, Jess’ motives dawn on Jeno. Judging by the way she trails off, ending her sentence both sheepishly and abruptly, she sees that he’s figured her out, too.

“Are you fucking trying to set me up with your scummy boyfriend’s sister?”

“He isn’t scummy! And, I mean, not necessarily. Maybe. Just a little, but come on! Isn’t it right for me to want two people I love and care for to find love and caring in each other?” Jess’ words come out harried, and she flaps her arms around a bit to try and prove the point she just can’t seem to hit on. Jeno’s brows furrow even more, and he can’t help his incredulous snicker.

“You, Miss ‘I just got fingered by a childhood friend in my boyfriend’s car for what has to be, like, the sixth time in four weeks’, want to talk about what’s right and what’s not?” Jeno points out, and Jess winces slightly. He knows it’s a bit of a low blow - yes, Jess is a cheater, and it’s completely terrible of her, and maybe even Johnny Suh deserves better than someone who’s unfaithful, but if Jess is the one committing the crime then Jeno’s aiding and abetting. He can see the hurt flash across his friend’s features, and he allows himself to soften for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sure (Name) is nice and all, but I’m not looking for a relationship right now. If I was, I wouldn’t be messing around with you, or anyone for that matter.”

Jess sighs, but it’s a sigh of acceptance. She glances down wistfully at the smushed cigarette she’d abandoned earlier, making no move to get another one. Jeno assumes she’s trying to cut back - the cost of a pack has gone up again.

“I do love him, you know that, right?” Jess says, voice soft and sincere in a way that has Jeno’s eyes flicking up to meet her own. “I just - I can’t give all of myself to him, you know? Not yet, anyways. Not after everything that’s happened in my life. It isn’t justification, it’s just…”

“You’ve been dealt so many bad hands that you don’t know how to play poker anymore,” Jeno finishes, smiling gently at his friend. “Yeah, I get it. I’m just your pain relief, remember? You don’t have to explain yourself to me. Fuck first, friends later.”

“Pretty sure it’s the other way around,” Jess rolls her eyes, though she knows he’s just messing with her. They might use each other, but their friendship predates any sexual relationships either of them have been having with anyone. They both know that Jess doesn’t just drop by the garage to drop her panties, although that is what happens first and foremost every time.

Before Jeno can quip back at her, the telltale thrum of a car’s engine draws his attention away from his friend. Both of them turn their heads simultaneously to see none other than Yuta Nakamoto pull up in his Thunderbird, Johnny Suh riding shotgun beside him. Jeno doesn’t miss the way Jess perks up, her grin dazzling as she spots her boyfriend. He can’t say the same for himself, not when his stomach drops at the sight of the two men.

Yuta at least has the ‘decency’ to shoot Jeno a patronizing smirk. Johnny doesn’t even acknowledge the man beside his girlfriend, instead turning directly to appraise his fixed up car after giving Jess a quick peck on the cheek.

“Funny,” Johnny remarks thoughtfully once he’s done with his once-over. “Are you sure you fixed this? It doesn’t reek of grease or anything. Maybe you underdid your hair today, kid, hmm?”

Jeno’s suddenly hyper-aware of how slicked back his pitch black hair is, and his fingers twitch at how badly he wants to push it back again, both out of nervousness and anger. He says nothing, only clenching his jaw in response.

“Leave him be, John,” Jess speaks up, holding her hand out for her boyfriend to take. He grabs it naturally. “He’s a good kid.”

Johnny’s cocky, holier-than-thou grin slips a little at seeing his girl - his girl - defend someone he equates to the bottom of his shoe, and Jeno notices it. For a moment, it seems like there’s a rebuttal sitting on the tip of his tongue. His necessity to keep his girlfriend’s approval wins him over, though, and Johnny says nothing more, only asking Jess to hand him the key he knows she has.

Yuta leaves first, though not before confirming their next whereabouts with Johnny. He slides back into the drivers’ seat of his Thunderbird, raises his eyebrow at Jeno through the windshield, and backs out slowly but surely. Jeno isn’t a big fan of Yuta, either, but at least the man respects his car.

The same can’t be said for Johnny.

He slams the passengers’ side door shut once Jess gets in, and Jeno can’t help the wince he gives at the noise. In that moment, he feels deeply for the Bel Air, wishing he could jailbreak it from the hell it must be experiencing at the Suh household. Right before Johnny gets into the driver’s seat, he stops, eyes flitting towards Jeno as he digs something out of his pockets.

Jeno watches as Johnny flicks a dime into the open tip jar they leave out on a rickety old stool, stands there and takes it as the older man shoots him the kind of wolffish grin that never reaches anyone’s eyes.

“Buy yourself something nice,” Johnny says, smirking as he looks Jeno up and down. He takes in the peeling leather on the greaser’s workboots, the grease stains on his blue jeans, the way his white tank top is soaked through with sweat, his ratty leather jacket lying across his workbench. When he looks back up, eyes meeting Jeno’s, the latter can’t help but feel as if he’s just been searched.

“At least… if you even know what ‘nice’ means.” Johnny finally finishes, smirking maddeningly at Jeno. Before any rebuttal can be made, Johnny’s inside his car and turning on the ignition. Jess waves goodbye to Jeno, albeit sheepishly, who only raises a hand in parting. It’s only after they’ve disappeared, tearing down Central Street, that Jeno registers Jaemin leaning against the corner of the garage. It’s evident by the way his friend is standing that he hadn’t actually witnessed anything, and Jeno finds that he wants to keep his interactions to himself today. It’s also evident that, while Jeno has nothing to tell Jaemin, the opposite does not stand true.

“What’s up?” Jeno asks, picking up and tossing the Camels at Jaemin on what is, by this point, sheer muscle memory. He throws the lighter right after, and Jaemin catches them both with ease. This is unsurprising - before school, life, and work all became too hard to balance, Jaemin had been a catcher on the local high school baseball team.

“There’s a new broad behind the counter at Kim’s,” Jaemin says, sticking the cigarette in his mouth and lighting it as he speaks, all with the kind of finesse that only comes from years of doing the same thing. “Looks familiar, ’m sure I’ve seen her before - pro’ly went to school together. Damn pretty, looks more your type than mine, though.”

Jeno doesn’t really care, frankly, but it’s Jaemin and he’ll always humor Jaemin. That, and they’ve got about an hour ‘til the next person with an appointment comes in, so he’s got some time to kill.

“You wouldn’t know if you went to school with her, considering you only ever fuckin’ showed up to play ball. I don’t think I ever saw you in class.” Jeno scoffs, though he knows he should probably keep speaking when Jaemin throws him a scathing glare. “How can you be so sure that she’s my type?”

Jaemin takes the cigarette out of his mouth, waving it around aimlessly as he finally walks over to his own workbench, right beside Jeno’s. He’s got a couple of chairs beside it, and he shoves one towards Jeno before sitting down himself. Jeno, for his part, swings his chair around so he can sit down backwards as he faces Jaemin, folding his arms over the back of it and resting his chin on top of his forearm. Once they’re both situated, Jaemin finally speaks again.

“Pretty, but doesn’t remind me of any of the greaser girls or the rich girls, somehow. Guess she doesn’t fit in that way. Smart, either talks animatedly or doesn’t say shit at all. Seemed all bright-eyed but with sum’n dark behind them. Mysterious, just a bit. Paint a good enough picture for you, asshole?” Jaemin good-naturedly flicks some ash towards his friend, drawing forth a chuckle from the other man.

“Sounds like you’re describin’ a book character,” Jeno throws back, causing Jaemin to roll his eyes even as he’s genuinely smiling. “Been spending too much time with Mark.”

“Maybe so,” Jaemin acquiesces, leaning forward in his chair to look Jeno in the eyes. He turns his head to the side, blowing smoke out through his lips before looking back. “Doesn’t change the fact that she’s good for you. Really, I think you two could hit it off. Even got her number for you.”

“You’re that desperate to pawn me off, huh?” Jeno raises an eyebrow, though he holds out his hand for Jaemin to drop a slightly-crumpled napkin into. He might not go for whatever girl it is romantically, but it might be good to go on a date or two just to keep himself from getting too rusty with the girls. That, and he has to admit that sitting at home, tinkering with the house’s clocks or yelling at Donghyuck not to use up all the hot water for the week is less appealing than having a nice night out (or a nice night in, depending on the girl). He supposes he’s mildly optimistic as he unfolds the napkin, even allowing himself a small grin at the idea of doing something outside of his ordinary, everyday, work to home to work to home life.

Jeno’s smile fades fast once he sees what’s scrawled messily on the napkin in black ink.

(Name) Suh

XXX-XXX-XXXX ;)

He blinks once, blinks twice, before letting out a groan and allowing his head to drop onto the wood of the chair’s back. Jaemin, concerned, asks if he’s alright, but Jeno just ignores him, too busy wallowing in the cosmic irony of his best friend giving him the number of the one girl he would never get with.

“Is this about the chick or is it something else? I saw Johnny Suh pull out of here, that motherfucker. If he wasn’t giving us so much business all the time I would’ve TP’ed his house by now. Is it him? Don’t let him get to you-”

“Jaemin,” Jeno interrupts his best friend, finally looking up from his reprieve in the chair. Jaemin quits rambling almost immediately, his gaze running over Jeno’s unreadable expression. Jeno looks down at the note, up at Jaemin, and then back down at your handwriting again before letting out a weighty, long-suffering sigh.

“Jaemin,” Jeno repeats himself, finally making eye contact with his friend. “We need to have a talk.”

♕ ♕ ♕

“You saw that her last name is Suh and you didn’t stop to think that she might be related to Johnny fucking Suh? Really? I know you’re dense, Jaemin, but for Chrissakes!”

Renjun’s voice rings through the small, two bedroom house as he chastises Jaemin while the two of them cook dinner. Jeno’s sitting on the floor in the living room, fiddling with Donghyuck’s radio: he’s been meaning to fix it for weeks, now, but it’s only today that he’s really found the time. That, and he’s trying to avoid the ongoing argument that’s occurring while two of his friends are making meatloaf. He knows that he’s the reason for it, yes, but that doesn’t mean that he wants to be involved.

It isn’t Jaemin’s fault, really, and Jeno knows this. He can’t stay mad at his best friend in general, but he’s doubly inclined to let Jaemin off the hook because the younger boy has no clue as to why Johnny Suh is so universally hated in the Lee household. Jaemin doesn’t even live with them like Renjun does, so he’s blissfully unaware of exactly how marred the relationship between Jeno and Johnny is.

“I’m home, you fucks!” The front door swings open with abandon just as Jeno finishes straightening the radio’s antenna, and he winces at the screech of the door’s protesting hinges. He’s so startled that he almost drops the radio itself, but he manages to catch it in time. This is lucky - Donghyuck saunters into the living room at the right moment, seeing Jeno both fumble and save his precious radio. Jeno pretends like he doesn’t see the glare his cousin throws at him, instead waving in greeting to him before beckoning him over.

“They’re going at it in the kitchen,” Jeno says lowly once Donghyuck’s close enough to hear him. “I wouldn’t go in there just yet.”

Donghyuck mulls this information over in his mind for a moment before raising a single, perfect eyebrow. He snatches his radio from his cousin’s lap, securing it in his grip, and sits down beside Jeno before he chooses to respond.

“And what if I want to cause problems on purpose?”

“Didn’t you have a full day of doing that at work today?” Jeno asks rhetorically, causing Hyuck to roll his eyes over-exaggeratedly.

“Which job?” He throws back, and Jeno can’t help but laugh. Donghyuck cracks a smile, too, though neither of them know why: it isn’t funny, especially not when Hyuck is speaking truth. He’s worked two jobs since dropping out of high school alongside Jeno a year prior - one close to the rich side of town in a quaint bookstore frequented by nearby college students, and one as a local plumbers’ assistant. None of the boys ever know where he’s at, which is concerning to all of them but something nobody bothers bringing up with Hyuck.

Judging by the fact that he’s wearing jeans and a shirt that’s had the sleeves ripped off, Jeno feels as if it’s safe to say that Hyuck’s just gotten home from being under sinks and in cisterns. By this time, he typically would’ve washed the oil out of his hair and changed into his sleeping clothes. Jeno’s heart twinges at the idea that his cousin might have to go back out to work after eating.

“You gettin’ some sleep tonight?” Jeno’s query is soft-spoken, and Donghyuck can’t help but give him a sad smile before he slowly shakes his head no.

“On house call duty until 5 in the morning. I’ll be home to nap, have some eggs, and then get to the store, though. Maybe we’ll see each other then, brother.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Jeno sighs in a way that says he knows they won’t, and Donghyuck hits his shoulder with his own. They sit like that, in silence, listening to Renjun and Jaemin bicker for a few moments, wallowing in the harsher truths of their lives for a few short moments before Donghyuck, never one comfortable with the quiet, breaks it to ask the obvious question.

“What’s up with those two?” He tilts his head towards the kitchen, and Jeno sighs before dropping his head down and pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes.

“Jaemin wingman-ed me to one of the new hires at Kim’s.”

“That’s not so bad,” Donghyuck says, furrowing his brow at Jeno. “I mean, you’re a manwhore. Figured that isn’t something you’d particularly mind.”

“Shut up,” Jeno scowls, much to Hyuck’s amusement. “And that’s the pot calling the kettle black. It isn’t the act, it’s the victim.”

“The vic- the girl?” Donghyuck’s voice is incredulous now, and Jeno all but groans as he shakes his head in disagreement.

“No - I mean, maybe, considering it’s Jaemin she was talking to - but no, fuck. I meant me, I’m the victim.”

“And why is that?”

“Because the girl is - he got me (Name) Suh’s number, damn it. Of all the girls he could’ve talked to about me, it was her.”

Donghyuck’s teeth clench immediately at hearing the unholy last name, and the air leaving his mouth between his lips makes an odd, hissing noise. His grip on his radio tightens, the pads of his fingers whitening. It’s a beat, two beats, before Hyuck lets up on the thing he has in his hands, sighing with mild dejection.

“Jaemin only moved here right before high school,” Donghyuck rationalizes, though the darkness behind his pupils lets Jeno know that he isn’t happy about being reasonable. “And we never really talk about the thing with Doyoung. I guess he either didn’t register that they’re related or he thinks our hatred is only over the class bullshit Johnny pushes on us whenever he sees us. I’m surprised you never told him the whole story, though - you two are as close as brothers.”

“What, you jealous?” Jeno teases on instinct, mainly aiming his witticism at the last phrase Hyuck had uttered. His cousin rolls his eyes once again, nudges his shoulder once again. Jeno grins, dropping his gaze to his hands.

“It isn’t that I wanted to keep it from Jaemin - it just never came up. He hates Johnny, too, but it isn’t in the same way as us. I guess I’ll explain it tonight - we’ve got an early shift at the garage tomorrow, as it is.”

“Let me guess,” Donghyuck sighs. “You start at 5?”

“Damn straight.” Jeno smiles sadly. “We aren’t kids anymore, Hyuckie, are we?”

“No sir,” Donghyuck smiles back, running a thumb over the radio’s buttons. “But goddamn, does adulthood suck when you don’t even have time to be with your family. Speaking of, where’s that idiot older brother of mine?”

“I heard that, you asshat!” Jeno looks up just in time to see Mark box Donghyuck’s ears, albeit as gently as possible. Still, the youngest Lee winces in pain, whining at the sudden attack.

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear,” Jeno notes, grinning up at his older cousin. “Didn’t hear you come in. How much did you hear?”

“Came in through the back. If you’re talking about whatever is happening in the kitchen, then nothing. If you’re talking about your explanation of whatever is happening in the kitchen, then everything. You two are not observant in any way, shape, or form - I’ve been here for a couple of minutes. I agree, by the way - you should tell Jaemin about it.”

“Tell Jaemin about what?”

Jeno, Donghyuck, and Mark all turn their heads simultaneously to see Jaemin and Renjun walk in, the former balancing the meatloaf on a tray and the latter holding a stack of plates, knives, and forks. Mark, who’s already standing anyways, leans over, grabbing some of the cutlery to ease up Renjun’s load. Jaemin sets the tray down on the floor after kicking aside the tools Jeno’d been using on the radio, and once he straightens up, he looks down at his best friend expectantly.

Jeno meets Jaemin’s gaze, takes note of the annoyance that’s still etched across Renjun’s features, and sighs. He runs a hand down his face before looking up again, this time meeting everyone’s eyes individually. Finally, he asks what he thinks is most important of all before starting on his spiel.

“When are the kids getting here?”

♕ ♕ ♕

Chenle and Jisung have to convince their respective parents that, yes, they have in fact completed all of their homework and studied for all their upcoming tests, before they’re allowed to head over to the Lees’ house for dinner. Both boys - the only two still left in high school, both juniors - come over in no time at all, seeing as they live in the houses on either side of Jeno’s.

“Why the fuck are we having family dinner?” Chenle asks, voice booming as he walks in without any prior announcement. Jisung, who’s trailing right behind him, quietly shuts and locks the door.

“Jaemin fucked up,” Renjun says, right at the same time as Mark responds with a “Because I said so.” Jisung and Chenle share a look - each with an eyebrow raised in confusion and mild anticipation - before sitting down, Jisung on the right of Jaemin and Chenle right beside Hyuck. Jaemin immediately ruffles the youngest boy’s hair, pairing it with a ‘You’re doin’ good in school, right? Good with all those books ‘n’ shit?’, to which Jisung, as always, nods while trying to dodge Jaemin’s next loving attack. Out of the seven men and boys currently having dinner in the house, only Mark and Renjun have their high school diplomas.

Jeno was so close to living a different life. He does his best not to think about what could have been. Instead, he starts talking, commanding everyone’s attention in the way only he can.

“We think it’s… time we talked about Doyoung.” Jeno lets the words settle, resting against their skin before seeping into their bones. He sees Chenle visibly shudder, Donghyuck resting a soothing palm against his younger friend’s upper back. Renjun lets out a heavy sigh, and Jisung bites at the inside of his cheek to keep himself from making the sad, choked noise he certainly was about to let out.

Jaemin, for his part, says nothing, only waiting patiently in a way that’s become his signature. Jeno thinks there’s nobody in the world more caring than Jaemin, sometimes, and his best friend never ceases to prove him right.

“Doyoung’s my older brother’s best friend - you remember Taeyong, right? Yeah, he’s Taeyong’s best friend.” Mark explains, looking straight at Jaemin once everyone seems to have recovered from the mild shock. It’s understandable, of course - they never talk about Doyoung. It’s been years, and not once has The Incident come up.

There’s always a time for everything, Jeno supposes.

“Does this have anything to do with why Taeyong’s in jail?” Jaemin’s question is tentative at best, but Jeno can see that he’s just piecing things together in his mind. All six of the other boys nods simultaneously, murmuring affirmative answers as they do.

“About five years ago, Johnny, Taeyong, Doyoung, and, uh… what’s his name? Nakamoto, or whatever, him... The four of them were fucking inseparable, did everything together. Johnny’s parents are known classists and elitists and whatever other -ists exist, but Johnny never seemed to be that way. Doesn’t matter, anyways. Rich kids are all the same in the end.” Donghyuck speaks this time, shedding more light as the story unfolds. The bitterness in his voice is highly evident, but nobody can blame him - they all know what it’s like to be ridiculed, pariahed because of poverty. All seven of them had forsaken the idea of trust ages ago.

“One night, Johnny and Yuta went out and got halfway to blind drunk at some bar they weren’t supposed to be at. Yuta at least went and decided to walk home instead of driving his car back, but Johnny didn’t give a fuck. ‘Course, he hit something almost immediately after getting in the damn thing, but he was too fuckin’ pussy to check and see what had happened.” Renjun tacks on after Donghyuck, adding on the next part of the infamous, unfortunate tale. Chenle is the next to speak.

“He was near a phone booth, so he called Doyoung to come help him. Doyoung and Taeyong both hurried to help their friend, figuring he must’ve gotten hurt, only to find that he’d- he’d…”

“That he’d hit and killed the son of the mayor at the time,” Hyuck finishes, noticing how Chenle hesitates to go on. “Johnny had called the cops right after calling Doyoung, and the pigs got there not a minute or two after my - Mark and my - brother and Doyoung did. They immediately assumed one of them had been driving, and then assumed that the car had been stolen from Johnny rather than being Johnny’s itself. Fucking Suh never clarified, only stood by while his friends got hauled off. They knocked my big brother on Grand Theft Auto. Seven years for a crime he didn’t fucking commit. Still, at least we get to visit him every week.”

“They took in Doyoung in on manslaughter - not even vehicular manslaughter. He pleaded guilty to it because he knew they’d charge Taeyong with it if he didn’t, and Taeyong was looking after the rest of us - Renjun included - at the time. We don’t have any fucking parents, and Doyoung knew it. He’s already done five years, but he’s spending the next decade of his life in a federal super max, and we aren’t allowed to see him. Poor thing - Taeyong ended up getting jailed, too. Doyoung couldn’t’ve have known. Don’t know if he knows now, even.” Jeno finishes the story, voice quivering with rage and the few unshed tears that always accompany his thoughts about the huge miscarriage of justice his family and friends have faced. Taeyong’s room is still the same as it was five years prior, untouched.

“Johnny was a witness in both cases, and he took the stand against them, saying they really did do what the cops said they did,” Jisung finishes, voice soft but emotionally charged. “My mom and Chenle’s mom stepped in as best they could to take care of Mark, Renjun, Jeno, and Hyuck afterwards until Mark got grown, but I just know it isn’t the same as Taeyong.”

“Your moms are angels,” Mark responds, smiling kindly at the two youngest members of their ragtag group. “They saved our lives. Of course, they wouldn’t have had to do so if…”

“If Johnny Suh hadn’t ruined them first.” Jeno completes the thought, Donghyuck and Renjun nodding in agreement. Jaemin says nothing, only looking each of them in the eyes earnestly.

He gets it, Jeno decides. The rest of them must see this as well.

After dinner, when Jeno goes to the bathroom to brush before sleeping, he finds a thoroughly sodden piece of paper stuck to the bottom of the basin. It takes him a moment to realize what it is - the sharpie has bled into one large blob. Jeno smiles to himself before getting to work cleaning it up.

He scrapes your phone number off of his sink with his bare nails and sleeps easier that night than he has in a long while.

♕ ♕ ♕

Day Two: May 26, 1957

Jeno’s always been good with time. It’s a gift, though it’s rare he acknowledges it: being able to more-or-less accurately tell the time without ever looking at a clock is hardly the kind of superpower people dream about.

You leave work at around 3 p.m. - Jeno knows this because he’s out in front of the garage, sat on the hood of Jaemin’s rusty pickup truck nursing a ham sandwich when you walk out of Kim’s, unbuttoning your uniform’s top few buttons as you find your brother’s waiting car. He’s too far away to hear the words you exchange with Johnny, but he watches as you glare into the Chevy for an excruciatingly long amount of time before heaving a sigh and re-buttoning your shirt.

Jeno doesn’t watch as the two of you drive away, but he doesn’t have to. Johnny always drives like he deserves more respect on the road than his car does, and it boils the younger man’s blood more than anything. After all, Jeno’s always been able to count on machines. People? Not so much. Cars respect him, so he respects them.

He finishes the sandwich, immediately replacing it with an unlit cigarette. ‘Oral fixation’, Donghyuck had smirked at him one night ages ago, only to have gotten a shoe thrown at him by Renjun. Jeno can’t say that his cousin is wrong, but he’ll die before he lets Hyuck know that. He thinks back to the morning, when he’d left to come to work. He’d only seen Jaemin and nobody else, and that was just because Jaemin had been his ride.

Speaking of Jaemin- he’d been right: you’re pretty. You’ve always been pretty, but Jeno tries to ignore it. Nobody related to the scum of the Earth Johnny Suh himself can be beautiful both inside and out - he’s never been more sure of anything. Such a thought process might be unfair, sure, but he reckons it’s better that he avoid you altogether rather than get caught up like his family members had. That’s how life goes: you hunt or get hunted.

Jeno will be damned if he ever finds himself being the prey again.

Jess drops by at around 4:15, no necessity behind her visit. They don’t do anything, not this time, though Jeno does have to force himself to stop imagining her lipstick leaving marks in places the sun can’t see, his fingers leaving bruises along her skin. Jaemin raises an eyebrow when he sees them talking, though he doesn’t say anything, only tossing Jess his pack of Camels. It’s only got one cig left in it, so Jeno lights it and puts it to her lips. She blows out a ring of smoke before he takes a drag from it himself, his fourth smoke of the day.

“You should apply for a dealership job or something,” Jess says at around 4:30, and Jeno’s now hyper-aware of her reason for visiting. He scoffs, handing the cigarette back to her for good. It’s suddenly the most unappetizing thing in the world. She notices his expression, but slogs on anyways, hoping that she’ll get through to him. “I’m serious! You’re smart, Jen, real smart. You could do worse than sellin’ cars to crackpots in suits. You’d make more cash, too.”

Her drawl only comes back to her when she’s talking to her childhood friends, and Jeno supposes it’s an unwitting act of classism. They don’t ‘speak good’, as Jaemin would teasingly put it, but they have heart. It’s something that’s hard to find in people who have more money. Jess has grown up like them, yes, but in some ways she’s no longer part of the world Jeno’s forced to live in. It’s a world where he’s got family and friends in jail, where his own brothers - he almost never calls them his cousins, because they’re brothers if he’s ever had any - have to work two jobs just to make sure all of them get by, where their friends have to do the same. Jess has a stable job now - kudos to her - and a rich boyfriend. She’s set for as long as she can hope to be.

She’s okay with doing up the hair of ladies who sit idly and gossip about the ‘filthy poors’ in the south side of town. Jeno can hardly look rich folks in the eyes without gritting his teeth into dust. He’s well aware that they are not the same.

“Why this sudden interest in my career?” Regardless, he only questions her coolly, unwilling to start an argument that won’t find an end any time soon. There’s no telling when a car will come in and Jess will have to leave so the boys can do their work, and, besides, this isn’t a discussion he wants to have. Not with Jess. Not with anyone.

He’d been so, so close to going to college with a full ride. Jeno had dreams once. He’d been a fool to even think of possessing such intangible commodities. He doesn’t have any anymore.

“I just… you’re brainy as hell. It’s a shame seeing you as a grease monkey when you could do more with your life, is all. I mean well, Jen, you know I do.” Her eyes are wide in earnestness, and Jeno can’t help but sigh. It’s not Jess’ fault he’s a realist, that he’s lost opportunities before. Before he can say anything in response, though, probably breaking her heart just a little bit in the process, Jaemin pipes in.

“If I have to drop him off at a dealership everyday in the hunk o’ junk I drive while he’s dressed up in a three-piece suit, I’ll hang myself using a chain of grease rags. Besides,” He chuckles, tilting his head at his best friend. “Who’ll keep my sorry ass company here at the shop?”

A corner of Jeno’s mouth lifts up immediately at the save, and it’s all he can do to shrug and gesture towards his best friend in agreement. Jess rolls her eyes before darting her gaze between the two men, and once she realizes that she really won’t get anywhere with either of them, she only sighs and shakes her head, dropping the idea for good… for now.

“That’s not the only reason you came here.” Jeno states, keeping an eye out for any potential customers. It’s a Sunday, though, so he doubts many people will come by. Church hasn’t been out for long - he knows this for sure because Mark never fails to attend, no matter how heavy his university course load gets and let alone how many hours during the week he’s had to work. He’s the only one currently pursuing a higher education, and Jeno thinks that he might be the only one tenacious enough to do so.

It’s a shame - Jeno’d been real smart in school. So had Hyuck. They both know Mark beats himself up everyday for being the only one of the Lees who’ll get a Bachelor’s, but they both also know that he’s least likely to jeopardize his education. If anyone deserves college, it’s Mark.

“How’d you guess?” Jess draws the mechanic out of his thoughts, and he blinks rapidly before orienting himself back in reality. His smirk returns - Jeno thinks he might use it as a facade too much at this point - and he can only laugh.

“I didn’t - it was a shot in the dark. What’s up?”

Jess opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by Jaemin, who doesn’t realize she’s about to talk. Jeno’s best friend tosses him the beat up truck’s keys in a perfect arc, throwing him a well-meaning grin while he’s at it.

“We won’t get much work today,” Jaemin states as Jeno catches the keys nimbly. “I’ll walk down to Church today, haven’t been in a while. Might be nice.”

“If you’re gonna go every three months at most, what’s the point of goin’ at all?” Jess asks, only mildly peeved at having been interrupted. Her grin is sunny, though, and Jaemin knows that she’s just teasing. A friend of Jeno’s is a friend of his; the vice versa also tends to ring true.

“Unlike this one over here,” Jaemin jabs a thumb out towards Jeno. “I still believe. That, and I figured I’d walk Mark home. Don’t get to see him too often, y’know?”

“Hey- “ Jeno starts, stopping immediately as Jess waves him off with one hand.

“Don’t mind him, he’s just disillusioned with everything he can’t see. Catholic Church included. Of course, whenever his grandparents are in town, he still pretends.” Jess explains sagely, much to Jaemin’s amusement and Jeno’s disgruntlement. The latter rolls his eyes, raising the hand enclosing the keys in a wave goodbye as Jaemin pushes himself off of the wall he’s leaning against.

“Funny how Mark’s a Protestant and so is Hyuck - kind of, I don’t think he’s super religious at this point - but you’re a Catholic.” Jaemin notes, and Jeno shrugs for the second time in one day.

“Mark & Hyuck’s dad was a Pastor, my dad converted to Catholicism for shits and giggles when he was, like, 15. They might be brothers, but they aren’t the same. I was never the religious disgrace of the family, though,” Jeno notes, a small, sadder smile replacing his grin momentarily. “Not after Taeyong said he’s an atheist. Anyways, Mark’s probably on his way home already, if you leave now you might be able to catch him.”

Jaemin knows better than to press, only nodding, raising an eyebrow for a split second, and turning on his heel before easing himself into a jog. He’s still dressed in his work clothes, and his hair is as shaggy as ever, and Jeno thinks churchgoers might faint upon seeing him. He also knows that Jaemin doesn’t mind.

“Now you,” Jeno looks at Jess once Jaemin is out of sight. “What’s up?”

Jess’ shoulders droop immediately, and for a moment she looks so forlorn that she doesn’t even look like herself. The expression passes as quickly as it had come into view, and Jeno accepts the nonchalant smile she gives him like it’s what she means to project outward.

“John’s been secretive lately.”

She says so much more with her eyes than she does with her mouth. Jeno sighs, tilting his head as he does to survey his friend for a moment. Jess is conflicted, that much is evident, and Jeno doesn’t quite know why. Nevertheless, he’s always made sure to keep his head out of other people’s business. He won’t change now.

“If you’re worried that he’s cheating, why don’t you talk to him about it?” Jeno says it like it’s easy, like Jess isn’t unfaithful to her own boyfriend. His eyes dart out towards the street again - nobody’s coming in for repairs. Jess lets out a huff of air, and Jeno realizes she must think his words are sarcastic rather than as earnest as he’s meant them to be.

“I’m being ridiculous, I know, it’s just- I just… I don’t know. It isn’t even that he’s acting super different, he’s just being more… conspiratorial? With his friends? It’s more of a feeling than anything else, I guess. I must sound fucking insane.” She runs her fingers through her hair, pushing it away from her face even as she casts her eyes towards the ground. She may be trying to reassure herself that she isn’t seeing things, but it’s called a sixth sense for a reason.

“You have good intuition,” Jeno rushes to assure her that she isn’t losing her mind. “I hope you’re wrong, but… maybe you and your boy toy need to have a good talk. From both sides.”

“Yeah,” Jess responds, not knowing what else to say. “Yeah. I just had to say it out loud to someone that wasn’t my reflection, I think. I’ll figure it out. Anyways, I have a couple regulars dropping by at the salon today, so I should probably- ”

“Go to work,” Jeno cuts in, his smile forgiving. Of what, neither of them are sure. “We have all the time in the world to talk. Bye, Jess.”

“Bye, Jen.” Is the response he gets, and then Jess is on her way. The day is silent again, now that Jaemin and Jess are both gone, but Jeno finds that he doesn’t really mind it. It’s not so bad- with no customers, no coworkers, and no friends around, Jeno gets to sit and think.

That’s what he does best.

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 6:27 in the evening when it happens.

For once in his life, Jeno checks his wristwatch. He isn’t sure why the sudden compulsion to actually know the time overcomes him, but he chalks it up to ‘dying from boredom’ and thinks nothing else of it. After all, the rags won’t clean themselves and the shop’s workbenches are only as neat as their owners. Jeno isn’t the most put together person alive, but he’d be lying if he said he doesn’t mind mess.

So he cleans, even when he’s the only one who’s doing it.

He’s in the midst of organizing his wrenches in size order when a familiar red Bel Air glides into the diner’s parking lot, top down with Johnny Suh’s loud laughter audible even from across the street. The music blaring from his car radio is only almost as loud as he is, and that’s saying something, because Johnny takes up every space he’s ever in. Yuta Nakamoto is beside him like he always is, though he’s more reserved than usual. Jeno does his best not to pay them any heed, but it’s difficult when his own responsibilities are mind-numbingly boring at the moment. He’ll take any entertainment he can get, even if it’s Johnny fucking Suh being the true neighborhood nuisance once again.

Funny how people look at Jeno funny when he walks down streets minding his own business, but they don’t say jackshit about a Suh kid blasting Elvis in public right before dinner time.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Jeno actually manages to finish his tool-sorting and is getting ready to finally, finally pack up when the music stops. Johnny must’ve parked. The burgeoning night is eerily silent, and the young mechanic pauses what he’s doing - making sure he has everything, mostly - because the world seems like it’s holding its breath. Just as he’s about to relax, slump his shoulders, and get back to his own work, he hears it.

Of course he hears it. It’s impossible to miss.

The scream shatters the silence into a million pieces, startling Jeno so hard he almost drops Jaemin’s car keys. He’s rushing out of the garage before he can think, and it’s moments later that he sees none other than Johnny Suh and Yuta Nakamoto rushing out of the diner, stuffing what look like pistols into the waistbands of their jeans. There’s cold, hard cash grasped in each of their hands, and Jeno cannot, for the life of him, comprehend what he’s seeing.

He makes brief eye contact with Johnny Suh, and the recognition in the older’s narrowed eyes freezes Jeno’s blood. There’s no time to ponder this, though - not when Johnny pulls out and rushes away within seconds, his car roaring to life on the town’s streets. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery - a robbery by one of the richest and most powerful people in the area. Jeno’s just witnessed a robbery, and the criminal himself is aware of this.

As he watches the owner of Kim’s run out, hands on his head in panic and disbelief, all Jeno can think about is how Johnny Suh is going to try to shut him up. Jeno is now the star witness to a criminal act. There’s no way he’ll sleep tonight.

He leaves City Motors with duller eyes than he ever has, his workstation spotless and mind swallowed in darkness.

At least now he knows why Johnny’s been weird towards Jess lately.

♕ ♕ ♕

Jaemin drops Mark off at the Lee household with a parting hug, clasping their hands together in a high five before pulling each other into their chests and clapping each other on the back. Each other. Jaemin might be the ‘newest’ addition to their band of seven, but he doesn’t feel any different from the rest of them. They’re his brothers, and he’ll always have their backs. They’ll always have his.

Mark invites him inside, but Jaemin declines - he’s out of chewing gum, of all things, and he knows the sketchy convenience store by the alley near 7th Street always sells at half price on Sundays. He bids the older man goodbye again, throwing him a lax two-finger salute and a small smirk before turning on his heels and jamming his hands into his jean pockets, a stance that does nothing to help his already awful posture.

He whistles all the way down to the store - Kun’s Konvenience - mostly because he can’t get the tune Hyuck is always humming out of his head, but also because he feels almost truly happy. Sure, his future looks like it’ll lie in the City Motors garage for the rest of his life, and sure, maybe he shouldn’t step foot inside Church - the dirty looks had been telling today - but that doesn’t dampen his mood. The sun is shining, the sky is a brilliant blue. Kun’s is selling gum for cheap, and Jaemin’s in need of it. He rounds the final corner and the short, squat red brick building he’s looking for comes into view.

His hand is closing in on the handle of the store’s front door when another, slightly larger, hand places itself on top of his.

Jaemin barely has time to step back when a fist connects with his jaw. Through his swimming vision, he sees Johnny Suh raise a pistol, and he doesn’t have the time to raise his hands before the butt of the gun collides with the side of his head. The last thing Jaemin remembers before passing out entirely is the ugly, ugly sneer across the older man’s face as he glares down at him.

“Sorry. Blame your meddling friend.” Johnny spits out, placing a well-aimed kick in Jaemin’s side as his finale.

♕ ♕ ♕

It’s 8:32 at night when the landline rings. Mark’s studying and both Donghyuck and Renjun are out at work, so Jeno’s the only one available to pick up the phone. Typically, he’d be wary of doing so - the neighborhood elementary schoolers have only recently discovered the cheap thrills that come with prank calling - but something compels him to hear out whoever’s on the other end.

There’s a crackling noise, and what sound like hushed whispers, and this goes on for so long that Jeno’s about to either yell something about working on homework instead of pranking or just hang up without a word when the other person finally speaks. Jeno sets down the dish he’s washing, pays no mind to the way it clatters into the otherwise-empty sink when Johnny fucking Suh finally opens his damned mouth.

“Caught an eyeful down at City Motors today, didn’t you?” He asks, casually, as if there are no underlying threats hiding beneath his overly honeyed words. As if he isn’t the one who’s committed a crime, as if Jeno’s the one with the gun and the money he never earned. Bile rises almost automatically in the younger man’s throat, but he can’t bring himself to put the phone down anymore. It’s as if he’s stuck.

“What do you want?” Jeno manages to hiss out when the urge to vomit recedes, and the way Johnny chuckles in response sends chills down Jeno’s spine. There’s something sickeningly sinister about the situation they’re caught in, and Jeno knows that he’s unprepared for when the other shoe drops. His mind can’t even work properly, not when there are so many ways for this to go.

“Police will be at your door tomorrow morning, looking to arrest the Kim’s robber. I’ll have given them a helpful tip by then, of course. Wouldn’t be good of me to know who it is and not let the local law enforcement know. Also… left you a present in the alleyway by that one convenience store your kind go to. Think it goes by the name of… Jaemin?”

Jeno’s blood runs cold at the mention of his best friend’s name. Johnny doesn’t stop speaking.

“He was real easy to drag by his feet after I got him in the head, though getting rid of the trail of blood by the store was a little harder. I’m about half sure I left him breathing, but-”

The landline slips out of Jeno’s hand, no active effort made to put it down. Everything suddenly feels as if it’s in slow motion, as if his muscles are made of lead and his tongue is made of sandpaper, but he hears himself calling out for Mark before his own actions register in his mind. He must sound frantic, because he can hear his older cousin practically sprint down the stairs even through the haze his mind is in. Jaemin. Jaemin’s hurt. Jaemin’s bleeding, Jaemin’s in pain.

“What? What the fuck happened- Who was on the phone- Jeno? What happened?” Mark’s voice is panicked enough, rushed enough, to shake Jeno out of his stupor. His anguish moves aside, making way for rightly placed rage as he meets his family member’s eyes. When he speaks, his voice is choked, barely restrained and yet so, so pained.

“We need to go to Kun’s,” Jeno states, swallowing the growing lump in his throat. He can’t cry, not now, not when a clock might be ticking. He hasn’t cried in ages. He can’t cry now. Jaemin needs him. He can’t waste his time crying. “We need to go to Kun’s.” He repeats.

“It’s Jaemin.”

#first #five #tags #don't #work #jeno #jeno smut #jeno fluff #jeno angst #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct dream fluff #nct dream angst #jeno scenario #jeno scenarios #jeno x reader #nct jeno x reader

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akumaalert · 3 years ago

Text

Medical Log Sixty-nine

Karl Heisenberg x AFAB Reader (Uses She/Her); Explicit Content, 18+ ONLY

CW: Medicplay, medical kink, medical examination, voice kink, roleplay, consensual voyeurism

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31802593

"Medical log...this is my...sixty-ninth attempt."

You rolled your eyes. Of course he would go for a sex joke the second the recording snapped on.

Staying still was a difficult task. The steel table was chilling your back and your muscles screamed at you to purse away from the cold.

The warmth between your legs, however, demanded that you stayed.

Heisenberg began exactly as he said he would - listing off your name and age with that ever lilting voice that made your cunt clench in delight.

"Body is in...fuck...the most gorgeous condition..."

Playing dead was so hard when he was out of view. Heisenberg was so expressive and you were missing all the nuances you so adored. You could only picture him studying you - licking those delectably thick lips that you loved to nip. The fact that he was fully clothed and hovering over your naked body was as thrilling as it was nerve wracking.

Part of you willed stillness on the sheer fear that if you moved, the spell would be broken and Heisenberg’s role of doctor would be traded for actual work. Convincing him of doing this had not been the simplest task. The first time he caught you listening to one of his medical logs, he had raised a quizzical eyebrow and chuckled lightly at your blush. When you laid in his arms after making love one morning, you had shyly admitted the desires that had been ignited simply by listening to his voice.

"I think they umm...I think it's technically called medical play..."

The swiftness with which he cut you off still made you feel shame. "I'm not experimenting on you."

It took all the strength you could muster to look at him despite your cheeks absolutely burning. You placed a hand on his own cheek to rub the pad of your finger over one of his scars. "No. No...that's not what I meant. It's pretend. For fun. Roleplaying basically..."

You loved when his glasses were missing from his face. Green eyes flickered - studying you intently - before his lips stretched into an attractive smirk. "Would that turn you on, buttercup?"

And so the two of you had planned. It was convenient that the toys you needed were inconspicuous medical equipment. Most you already had and the others were obtained from the Duke without suspicion. At least you hoped. He was always a jovial fellow and at least didn't question the use for the pinwheel. Where the rest came from, you did not question. It wouldn't do to dwell on the purpose or origin when living in the shadow of Miranda's clutches.

When Heisenberg's hand ghosted near your head in the present, you repressed the want to moan.

"Proceeding with inspection..."

One leather clad hand cupped a cheek while a bare, calloused fingertip lined your lips. You could not entirely make him out like this, but you could see his green undershirt in delightful detail if you rolled your eyes high enough. His trench coat and his outer shirt had been discarded and the thought made your skin prickle. The spirals of his chest hair peeking from his shirt made your fingers tent with a want to touch him.

But cadavers couldn't move. So you swallowed and resisted the temptation to dart your tongue to meet his caress.

"Subject has the softest lips...prettiest damn thing I've ever studied."

Heat and the ever lingering static that was Heisenberg radiated just a breath behind you. If you had any courage to move just so, you imagined that his crotch sat just above your line of sight.

Would he already be hard? Heisenberg had held his typical swagger when you had mapped out your wants and respected his limitations. But you could tell that hesitancy still sat not so lightly on his shoulders. Perhaps he would need to drag things out - let his pleasure build as yours boiled in every limb.

Eyes half lidded, you nearly missed the scalpel floating gingerly through the air. As Heisenberg had insisted, only the handle touched your skin. Beginning at the curve of your jaw, it traced ever so slowly down your throat like a breath. Despite the lack of danger, the sensitive skin pimpled and your throat constricted.

"It's as if I built her myself...everything I could ever fucking want. Absolute damn perfection," he muttered. Feeling drunk off his words, you struggled to keep up with them all. After all, you were not sure how sensitive the recording would be. Heisenberg was a loud man - a grand man - and so rarely whispered as he did now. "A lovely neck...if only I had found her sooner...might have given her a necklace of teeth marks to wear."

When the scalpel slipped to your chest, your gasp could not be stifled. But instead of stopping, Heisenberg simply removed his fingers from your face to set both hands in a frame on either side of your head. He was adjusting and leaning and soon his eyes met with yours. Though you could not see anything below the rugged slope of his nose, you imagined his mouth as slightly parted.

His eyes were normally flecked with golds and browns, but the darkness there now was not an uncommon sight. You saw it when he was angry - returning from family meetings or trips to the Dimitrescu castle. Whenever his facade had been tested for too long with his "mother" and the walls came crashing down the moment the doors to the factory were closed.

You also saw it when he was lost to lust - when he used arms as steady as steel to hold you to him until you were both limp messes on the floor or the desk or the shower or the bed.

It was a color you so treasured - especially when the hints of softness clouded them as they did now.

Heisenberg's voice careened and curled just like the scalpel's handle around your breast. So light but so heavy.

"I don't need any damn notes for these tits...have them fucking memorized. Fuck what I wouldn't give to put my mouth on them. What a damn waste. Body is so cold and those nipples are perked up so nicely. Inspecting..." He audibly swallowed, clearing his throat. "Inspecting chest in detail now."

While the scalpel handle swirled against one of your nipples, Heisenberg's gloved hand went to your ignored breast in a firm squeeze. You were already so worked up by the mere prospect of your play. To have it as a reality with Heisenberg towering over you and switching his attention from your breasts to your eyes to your lips and back again was absolute torture. The leather on his fingers did nothing to help you. The gloves were old and worn into a fibrous texture that made every hair on your neck stand on end.

Your lover was a cruel man, but not a patient one. With his pointer finger and thumb, he twisted your nipple. Eyes clapping shut, you shook when you realized a tremble in the scalpel. A telltale sign of his passions rising and his powers thrumming along with them.

"Color?" he asked in a voice of gravel.

It took you a moment to understand his inquiry. Your stoplight system. That Heisenberg was already checking in with you filled you with a whole new type of warmth. Nodding with flushed cheeks, you ran your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

"Green," you muttered.

So he continued.

"Nipples are extremely responsive." The scalpel and his hand pulled away but for a moment before the sides were switched. But with them came the feeling of his bare hand on your equally bare chest. "I could stand here all day just admiring the view. Not a damn thing to say to do it justice."

He flitted between a tender touch and a rolling, twinging pinch. The scalpel rolled along with it all, though there were intervals when it remained still against your skin. As if his mind could not keep up with it all. It would start back again with a lurch and small grunts of frustration from its master.

"Moving to the lower torso..."

Your body arched when he moved and broke contact with your skin. The scalpel's trail became steadier as it looped around your breast to slide so terribly slow down the middle of your chest. Down it slipped and once again your fingers were fidgety. The skin of your stomach felt particularly sensitive, especially when the scalpel began to dance in patterns too quick and too slow for your mind to process.

"These hips of hers...the legs...hard not to get too ahead of myself..."

Though you could not see him at all now with your head locked in its position, it made the situation all the more welcome to your growing need. In your mind he studied you - watched your body with all the appreciation he was so fond of giving it. He might pay attention to your stomach - to the invisible designs he was tracing there. But his eyes would inevitably flicker to look between your legs. There was no gown or sheet to protect you from his hungry gaze. There was nothing at all preventing him from doing the myriad of things that you longed for him to do.

By the sound of his breathing, you knew Heisenberg was not left unaffected.

"Subject...is gonna fucking pay for making part of my work part of her play," he growled. "Do you have any idea how distracted I'm going to be every time I go in for an actual log? But you don't care, do you? It's all about you."

Tension hung in the air and one of your legs stretched upward, suddenly aching.

Heisenberg's hand came down fast to push it back into place.

"Didn't say I wasn't gonna indulge you," he said, playfulness in his voice. He gripped your knee still held in his hand with a soft touch. "Just that you'll pay for this later."

Lightly nodding, you felt his hand leave you. Your entire body tensed when the scalpel - ever streaming down your skin - began a descent that told you just how impatient Heisenberg had become.

It didn't help that a series of items - familiar and agreed upon in advance - floated over you on a glinting silver tray. You could not tell if they moved slowly due to his powers flitting with his emotions or if he simply was intent on you seeing them.

A bottle of lube. A bullet vibrator and its controller. The Wartenberg pinwheel. Another scalpel for the hell of it.

If the scalpel on your skin ran near your aching cunt, you never felt it. The next thing you knew, it was landing on your thigh and stalling.

As if he could not help himself, his hands were on you again. This time instead of pushing a leg onto the table, he pried both of your legs open with a prodding touch.

Though it broke your play, you took a large inhale of air. You could not recall ever being so wet or so ready.

Heisenberg let out a low whistle.

"You're soaked, buttercup." A pause. The telltale sound of buckles being clicked and dropped to the floor.

You could not take it and spoke with a whine.

"Not fair...I can't see you."

The chuckle he gave was dark. "A shame. It's like someone asked for this. Ironic. You're such a whore that your little game is preventing you from watching me. And I know how you love to watch."

The asshole took his time to slowly unzip his pants. The heat in your body was palpable and painful. A small gratified groan told you all you needed to know about where his hands had gone.

"Pretty, pretty girl..." he cooed. "Show isn't over yet. You had some requests and what kind of a lord would I be if I was to ignore one of my subject's pleas?"

The knowledge that he was stroking himself - languid even as your longing screamed through your very soul - made the pit of your stomach pulse with delayed pleasure.

Trying to even your breathing, you focused on the ceiling laid brown and bare above you. Or at least you tried. Heisenberg chose the absolute worst moment to bring both the second scalpel's handle and the brand new pinwheel onto the scene.

Huffing heatedly, you scrunched your face into a grimace. What a sight you must be - a scalpel on each thigh and a pinwheel hanging dangerously close to your cunt. You pushed the thought aside, unable to bear the image in your head.

"To the main event," he announced, voice returned to a rumbling purr. "Planting the 'control device.' Inserting now."

When he had added lube to the bullet, you did not know. Probably somewhere between your embarrassment and the blood pounding in your ears. Small and sleek, it entered your folds gently but awkwardly. Heisenberg's powers going on the fritz would never cease to endear you. He was so strong - so normally loud and wearing whatever mask that a situation called for. But in these moments with you, he was raw and his powers were unhinged in the most intimate of ways. It made you feel powerful - the ability to bring this lord of metal to timid movements when he could likely destroy the whole village with enough metal and mental will.

Rounding its way deeper and deeper inside of you, the bullet suddenly stilled. The sensations of the scalpels skating up and down your legs combined with the threat of the pinwheel overwhelmed you. If you had wanted to speak in that moment, it would have been quite out of your ability to remember how.

"Insertion complete."

Babbling during sex was another staple of Heisenberg's. But he was eerily quiet and controlled in the seconds that followed right up to the click of the controller.

The jolt to your core was immediate and you gasped in hurried breaths against the most exquisite pleasure you had ever felt. The fight to keep your fingers extended was lost as all ten fisted. You were so wet that the lube had been a moot point. The bullet buzzed inside of you and your hips shook with the herculean effort of staying still.

Heisenberg exhaled, voice faraway and dreamy.

"Ausgezeichnet...excellent. Progressing faster than expected."

You choked on air. Beyond your control, your body flinched against the hum of the bullet.

"Fuck," bit out Heisenberg. "Have a proposition for you...since you're going to be punished for making me work, I'm going to go back to the recording-"

"Oh God!"

"I'm going to go back to the recording," he repeated gruffly, ever incensed at being spoken over. "And I'm going to count the seconds that it takes for you to come. And however many seconds that is...that's how many spanks you'll be getting. Right on that luscious fucking ass of yours."

Another click of the bullet's controller made your eyes roll to the back of your head. Fingernails bit into your palm with the want to hold onto something - anything. How could you be so stimulated yet so far from release at the same time?

"I can see everything from where I'm standing," he continued. "Can you feel that wetness of yours? Dripping into your ass...pussy such a pretty pink shade. It'll go so nice with a red ass. One, two, three...you're building up to quite the spanking. Might want to hurry it along."

He was indeed a cruel man.

But not a patient one.

The pinwheel's weight was noticeable, but not deep. It pinched and rolled its way directly down and over your clit and the sensitive flesh splayed and shaking from sensation.

How you hated the gargle that you let out. It was ugly and incoherent.

"Too much!" you cried.

"Scheisse!" The pinwheel flew to the floor as the scalpels stopped. Even the bullet seemed to rumble ever lighter. "Color?"

It took you several breaths to gather the ability to nod. When Heisenberg remained quiet, you grunted. "Green...green...fucking green. Floor it."

Heisenberg laughed - all throat and no breath. "Floor it. Gotcha."

Making a strange sound - somewhere between a groan and a grunt - Heisenberg returned his hands to your body.

The hand free from leather stroked your thigh. The leather, however, fondled your mound and found your clit with practiced speed.

Barely able to keep up with the bullet and the scalpels and the trembles and the sound of Heisenberg's guttural encouragements, you closed your eyes and focused on the circles he made against that sensitive bundle of nerves.

You could not open your eyes or close your mouth. You could not do anything but chase a high approaching as sure as any sunrise.

Apparently taking pity on the mess you had become, Heisenberg only took one swift last round on your clit before speaking.

"Now to pass a current...through the body...using six volts..."

The words had no time to settle in before the action was done with his gentle hand on your quivering thigh.

Screaming, too, was beyond your control.

"Come on," he said through the return to your clit and the massage in your cunt and the swirls of scalpel handles on your legs. "Come on, come on, come on."

"KAR...k...kah..."

Your orgasm knocked the very air from your lungs. Pins of light erupted as your eyes squeezed with every furious flutter of pleasure. Your cunt was actually twitching and the glove on Heisenberg's hand felt so exquisite as it barely pressed down on your clit.

"Yes! Yes!" Egging you on with a happy laugh, Heisenberg uttered praises that registered in a haze. "At last...wonderful...what a good girl."

As the absolutely mind-numbing orgasm faded into your very bones, you lay there exhausted and beyond satisfied. Breathing became a chore that your throat seemed unused to performing.

Heisenberg moved as efficiently as ever to complete his work. The bullet was removed with care by his own fingers. When it had turned off, you had no recollection. The scalpels clattered to the table with a metallic hiss.

Sweat built on your brow and dragging down your temple, you swallowed and swallowed again. The sound of rushing water perked your tired body. You were slow to rise, testing fingers and a palm burning with indents of your nails. Soon, however, you had sat up. A swirl of satisfaction still sat low in your belly.

As satiated as you were, you could not help but enjoy the sight of Heisenberg standing before you. In one hand was a glass of water begging to be brought to your parched lips. In the other he held the recorder. You watched with hooded eyes as he clutched at the recorder before dropping his hand to adjust his pants.

Pants that hung low on his hips with the zipper pulled wide. The adorable swell of his lower belly was visible underneath his shirt. His cock was curved at such a beautiful angle above silver hair. It was blushed a dark pink with veins reaching up to a head that was nearly purple with need.

Bringing the recorder back to his mouth, Heisenberg eyed you before huffing.

"...ending recording."

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg #resident evil #re village #ao3 #smut #kinks with karl #x reader

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dracoladon · 4 years ago

Note

Hello lovely! What about est relationship + borrowing clothes? Maybe Draco wearing Harry’s shirts or jumpers? Could be as fluffy or smutty (or both) as you want 💗 - sitp

thank u liv for this lovely prompt. fair warning: buckle your seatbelts for the not one but two sets of parentheses within another set of parentheses.

i was tragically torn between soft and smutty in this one. we’ve ended up with kind of both and kind of neither — enjoy 😔

explicit(ish), 1389 words

The first time, Draco takes Harry’s jumper. It’s his, his favourite, knitted by Molly and given to him when he was twenty years old. It’s blue, and has a whale on the front in a deep navy tincture (the noughties were when Molly entered her experimental phase — instead of letters, everyone's Christmas sweater bore some kind of (no offence, Molly, but utterly random) image. Ginny’s had a platypus on it, Percy’s had yew branches up the sleeves, and Ron’s, an impressively detailed Muggle toaster (??) across the chest.)

Whatever. Logic aside, Harry loves his jumper, and he loves his whale, who Ron dubbed Herbert towards the befuddled, tipsy end of the night. (“Herb for short,” he said, and then collapsed into his eggnog.) He loves that Molly chose it for him, the Warming charms entwined in the wool that feel like her fierce, protective magic against his skin, and the way it’s become loose and pliant with age.

Unfortunately for Harry (and Herb), Draco likes the jumper too. Likes it so much that he sees fit to employ every Slytherin-y wile in his arsenal to try and steal it.

“I don’t understand why you covet poor Herb, Draco,” Harry says, when he goes looking for the jumper and finds it missing from it’s drawer again. “I would have thought him nowhere near sophisticated enough for your tastes.”

Draco sniffs and rolls onto his stomach. “I’m sure I haven’t a clue what you’re on about,” he says, and manages to sound lofty even with his face half buried in a pillow.

* * *

The second time, Harry takes Draco’s tie. It’s a silvery grey one that’s the same colour as his eyes, a custom made gift from Pansy for his last birthday.

And Potter, the cheeky fuck, has stolen it. A looter, ruthlessly purloined it in an unscrupulous heist, that he’s probably been planning ever since they first started dating, or is it why he even pursued Draco in the first place(?!), just to whisk it away from everything it knows, and—

“That’s quite enough,” Harry says. “And I didn’t take your tie.”

Draco slams his hand down on the kitchen bench. “Lies! Fraudulence!—”

“—I took ransom. You’ll get your tie back when you return my son.”

Well. Well! Draco pretends to dust lint from his sleeve. He says, cooly, “Herbert prefers my company, anyway.”

“He does not.”

* * *

The third time, Draco takes Harry’s Muggle jeans.

And he’s a ferrety little ferret faced liar, because he’s complained about the jeans in question since the first time he saw them.

“How did you get the knees so dirty?” Draco said. He looked the picture of aristocratic disdain with his nose all crinkled up like that. “Have you been sucking cock al fresco?”

“We’re coming back to that,” Harry had said (and they did), and then shut Draco up with a nice, long snog when he started on the rips and the faded denim and the fit-so-tragically-loose-I-can’t-even-see-your-arse.

And now Draco is wearing them, slung low on his hips as he shrugs off his coat.

“You fuck,” Harry says, partially because those are his and Draco is an insufferable hypocrite, and partially (mostly) because the jeans are so big around Draco’s waist that Harry can see the cuspated jut of his hip bones and the little silver ring in his navel.

Draco looks down, all feigned innocence. He says, “Don’t you think they suit me?”

Harry mutters, “I’ll suit you in a bloody minute,” and pulls him by the wrist towards the men’s, where he sucks him off so hard and fast that Draco bites the crook of his elbow till it bleeds.

* * *

The fourth time, Harry takes Draco’s slippers. And Draco’s feet are cold.

“Those are mine. Mine,” Draco tells Herbert, looking down at his chest as he shuffles around his cold flat in the thickest socks he could find.

He knows he’s not exactly a sentient being, but Draco would like to think Herbert looks sympathetic all the same.

The rugs on his tiled floors are for purposes more aesthetic than comfort — it’s bloody cold in the mornings, and without Harry to tangle his legs around or order to the kitchen so he doesn’t have to brave it himself, he needs. His. Slippers.

The thing about it that’s most troubling, really, is that, was Draco less of an idiot (Pansy’s words) who had just chosen floorboards for his flat and not mosaic tile (because he lives in Britain and not fucking Madrid, so on,) he probably wouldn’t mind that Harry has pilfered from him yet again.

Harry’s stopped asking for his jumper back. Or rather, extorting Draco until it’s returned. And Draco’s content in leaving his tie wound around the wrought iron posts of Harry’s bed, and Harry thinks his jeans look better on Draco than they ever did on him.

It’s hideous, really, because Draco has never even liked sharing (Draco does not share, in fact), but somehow he’s ended up with a wardrobe that’s more Harry’s than it is his, and the black trousers that flatter his arse so brilliantly are gone, and so is the faded Quidditch jersey he only wears when he’s ill. And he doesn’t even mind, because he knows when he goes to Harry’s flat he’ll find it all stuffed into the antique dressing table drawers taken from Sirius’ room at Grimmauld Place, smelling like Harry and his warm, sapid laundry soap.

Draco says to Herbert, “This is your fault.”

* * *

This time, Draco takes Harry’s dressing gown. He’s wearing it when he emerges from the bathroom, water still sluicing off the delicate ridge of his nose, off his hair and down his back because he never dries himself properly. (I have sensitive skin. I’ll break out in hives. Harry knows it’s just an excuse to lounge naked on the couch while he “air dries”, but whatever.)

“You’re dripping all over the carpet,” Harry says, leaning on his palms against the door frame of his bedroom.

Draco says, looking around at him, “Ah. My sweet. I was just coming to fetch you.”

“Why?”

“I’ve drawn us a bath,” says Draco.

Harry had planned on making some tea and watching Come Dine With Me, perhaps Floo calling Ron and Hermione to see how the renovations on their flat are coming along. But Draco is all wet and warm and glossy, and smelling like the expensive bubbles he refuses to bathe without.

Harry lets Draco lead him to the bathroom, where the floor is wet with his footprints and the air is thick with perfume and soft, cradling breeze from the cracked open window.

“This is my dressing gown,” Harry says, stepping closer so he can slide it from Draco’s slight shoulders.

Draco reaches for Harry’s flies. “And these are my knickers, you troll,” he says, and hooks his thumbs into the waistband.

Once both disrobed (Harry’s shirt flung over the counter, the pilfered dressing gown puddled on the floor, both of them hard and flushing) they step into the bath. Draco likes the water scalding despite his dainty skin, but he must know Harry prefers not to be boiled alive because it’s just sultry, just warm.

Gold fretted shadows slide over Draco’s face as they settle, legs tangled at the knees, Harry tracing shapes around the delicate knob of Draco’s ankle.

Harry feels elastic in the water, melting with pale, gauzy limbs draped all over him.

“C’mere,” Draco says. “I want to wash your hair.”

When Harry hands him a bottle, he says, “Not with that utter swill. Mine.”

Draco means his shampoo, but Harry knows he means him a little bit, too.

A soft, pleasurable thrill runs through him. Harry loves the smell of Draco’s shampoo. He thinks it smells like wide open spaces, like walking over the crest of a hill. He also thinks it smells a bit like spices, like star anise and cinnamon, and lemon zest and sage. The scent on the bottle reads Cedar, which, okay. Fine.

Draco uncaps it, squeezes a pearlescent puddle into his palm. He sets himself on Harry’s lap, and takes his cock slowly, sweetly, chest to chest, with his fingers twisted in Harry’s hair.

Harry rocks him in the water, his head bowed into Draco’s collar bones as he laves and rinses, soft and soft and slow.

* * *

most important things in my life (in ascending order)

friends

family

harry being hot for Draco in low slung trousers

draco having a belly button ring that is exposed in said trousers

#my writing #answered #sitp #prompts #drarry

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peachpitfics · 4 years ago

Text

Mistletoe

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Summary: Every year Rossi holds a Christmas Eve dinner, the Team and their little families attend. This is your first one, and coincidentally, you get caught under the mistletoe.

Length: 2.6k

Pairing: SpencerReid x Female!Reader

Content Warnings: ~none~

A/N: Hiiii, this is super fluffy and sweet. Hopefully the first of a few Christmas themed fics. I hope you like it!!

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

You never had anywhere to go for the holidays. You had no real family, moved to a new state, and joined a new force only a few weeks ago. The new team you worked with was a tight knit family. They had been together for years and while they were welcoming and did their best not to exclude you, it was hard to bear the inside jokes and recalling of memories you were not a part of. What shocked and surprised you most about their bond, was the family Christmas held at Rossi’s huge house. Everyone, and their families would come, eat a glorious Christmas dinner, and spend it together.

You rang the doorbell and stood, rugged up on the doorstep, huge wooden and glass double doors in front of you. Dave answered the door, arms wide open as he took you in a loving embrace. “Thanks for inviting me” You shuffled into the house awkwardly, passing Rossi two bottles of wine as he showed you where you could shed your winter coverings. Rossi’s house was beautifully decorated from top to bottom. You were sure it had to have been professionally done. “Thank you y/n, this is great. I’m so glad you could make it out here tonight” Dave beamed at you, “And you look beautiful”. You hadn’t put too much effort in tonight but dressed nicely for dinner at least. What he said made you blush; you hid your face as he led you into the dining room. “Hey! Looks who’s here” Morgan smiled across the table. Garcia, sitting next to him, waving overly excitedly. You waved back, clearly not having had any eggnog. As you sat down, in between Hotch and JJ, Hotch poured eggnog into your glass and clinked glasses with you. “We’re just waiting on the kid, he said he was on the phone with his Mom. But he should be almost here” Rossi shared with them.

They all sat around the table, laughing at Garcia who was intoxicated, conversing over Christmas memories from their childhood. Not all of them were overly happy memories, just thoughts of a simpler time. “What about you, y/n? Favourite Christmas memory from when you were a child?” Hotch asked. Emily looked worriedly at you, she had been the one you spoke to and got to know out of everybody. “Well... um” Clearing your throat, you paused as Spencer walked in and slipped into his seat beside Garcia and across from you. “Yeah, okay. I think I was about 8... I was in my second group home and there were about 15 kids of all different ages. The church choir stopped by to sing carols to us in the evening; and, uh, we had a roast chicken, a lot of us had never experienced Christmas before so it was pretty wonderful. The church also brought us a box of second-hand toys, which was lovely. I think that’s probably the best one” Everyone stared at you in awe. The type of awe you were dreading. You shuffled uncomfortably in your seat as they started to notice that the staring was out of control. “I didn’t know you were a foster kid” Morgan said somberly, having grown up in an area with a lot of foster kids himself. “Yeah, I was. It wasn’t so bad” You smiled softly, begging someone to take the attention off of you. “Sorry I’m late, you guys, my Mother was reminiscing about Christmas in 1969” Spencer chuckled awkwardly. And that was the end of it, their focus was changed, and Spencer was explaining his Mother’s story, which in turn was quite boring.

Within 30 minutes, Rossi and several servers emerged from the kitchen, bringing platters and large bowls and more wine. It was the most extravagant thing you’d seen in your whole life. I’ve never even been a restaurant this nice, you thought to yourself, watching as they served. Rossi held in his hands an exceptionally large knife, whilst standing over the bird, gathering everyone’s attention. “For me, Christmas means being with family. Sharing it with you, makes it the most precious and special time of the year” Rossi paused, “To family”. Everyone raised their glasses and repeated the toast back to him. He carved the meat, and you all passed the fixings round the table. It was the most delicious food you’d ever had. You began to wonder if everyone with a family had a lovely Christmas like this every year.

Before long, the kids were playing hide and seek throughout the house as all the adults made their way into the awesomely large sitting room. Everyone gathered around, sitting in the settee’s or on the rug by the fireplace. “Anyone care for brandy and a cigar?” Rossi asked. “Am I in a game of Clue?” Garcia looked around the room, “Where the hell is Miss Scarlet, I want to ask her some questions”. People snickered at her comments, she got more sarcastically funny as she got further intoxicated. “No seriously, would anyone like a drink?” Rossi stood by his sideboard bar, crystal decanters lined up with matching glasses. “Scotch, for me Dave, thank you” Hotch nodded. “I’ll take one of those as well” Emily smiled. “Not for me, I’m driving” Will grinned at JJ, hoping she would have another drink and let her hair down a little. You noticed this and nudged JJ in the side, “I brought more wine” You raised your eyebrows cheekily at her.

She looked long and hard into your eyes, really thinking over how hectic the headache was going to be in the morning. “Screw it” She mumbled, caving in to your devilish look, “Go get the wine” She lightly tapped your arm. “Oh no, come on y/n, I’ll go” Rossi offered. “Seriously, it’s fine, I’m sure I won’t get lost on the way back or anything” You giggled, jumping up from the floor and heading towards the big arch way through to the foyer. “Hey, y/n!” Spencer stopped you in the doorway, “Would you mind getting me a glass of water?” He asked in a soft tone. You nodded happily; it was an easy request.

“Hold on...” Hotch said quickly. They all stared at you again. “You can’t move” Hotch smiled gently, “You’re under the mistletoe”. Everyone laughed and gaped as Hotch caught you out under the mistletoe. “What do you mean I can’t move?” You laughed, as if this were a silly game. “In the Rossi house, if you pause under mistletoe and get caught out, you have to wait there until someone kisses you” Dave explained. Obviously Hotch had been caught before and was now pointing out Rossi’s next victim. “Who’s gonna do it?” Garcia looked intrigued, waiting for the war between them to begin while you stood there, knees shaking at the thought of having to kiss someone on the team. “Well, I’m out” Rossi said, having reconnected with an old lover recently. Will and JJ snuggled closer together, that was an obvious no. Hotch uncomfortably sat back into the settee, smiling cheekily into his glass.

A few faces turned to Morgan. “Hey now, that’s usually my style, but I’m seein’ somebody at the moment” Morgan shrugged, hoping Penelope wouldn’t pull him apart over the comment he made. Which inevitably, she did. “Can’t I just go to the kitchen, come on, this is silly” You spoke over them, they were discussing among them who should be the one to kiss you and set you free from the nasty grip of the mistletoe. “It’s gotta be Reid” Emily’s voice rang out over all of the incoherent babbling.

Spencer had been laughing and watching this unfold around him, blending into the leather settee like a chameleon. Now that the faces turned to him, he flushed red and he eyes grew wider. “Ha ha, you guys” Spencer tried to redirect, blushing madly “Emily, it’s you! You know it’s you” He laughed awkwardly. “It could be me; I just don’t really think that’s y/n’s speed... whereas you...” She let the rest of the team join in on the end. “Yeah I don’t think she swings that way” JJ looked back at Emily, shaking their heads together negatively. “Which leaves you Spencer, everyone else is attached at the moment” Hotch's voice seemed confident and firm, but had a hint of a giggle in it.

This started to seem like a set up to you, everyone was grimacing, smirking up at you. No one else tonight had been caught under mistletoe and there was no shortage of it in this house. You crossed your arms in front of you and lovingly glared back at each of them. “Come on Spence” JJ grabbed his knee and shook it, as if this provided some sort of moral support. “Spencer! Spencer! Spencer!” Penelope started a chant and within seconds, they had all joined in. “Okay! Okay, okay, you can stop doing that now. The peer pressure has worked” Spencer’s face couldn’t not smile. His cheeks tugged tightly at his lips, and though his face was red, he looked pleasantly excited. Reid stepped over JJ and slowly approached the door frame. He got closer to you, looked into your eyes, and pursed his lips, eyes widening as if to say, “This is weird”. He rocked back on his heels for a moment, hands awkwardly in his pockets. You remained still, one eyebrow raised in shock, arms still folded in front of you. “Come on pretty boy, we haven’t got all night” Morgan teased, Garcia gripping onto him, her eyes as wide as possible so she didn’t miss anything.

In an instant, he lunged forward, a hand landing on your cheek and one at the small of your back. Spencer planted his lips onto yours, you could almost feel him smiling into it. Your arms softened and untangled as they found their way onto his chest in front of you. As you parted, the embarrassing hail of whoops and clapping arose. Spencer stepped back giggling, hiding his face from his colleagues. You pursed your lips together and held your fingers to your lips briefly, surprised at how good that felt. “I’m gonna go grab that wine now” You blushed, laughing along with the hyenas in the sitting room. Pausing slowly at the fridge, your head hitting the metal, you exhaled from deep in your lungs. Never in your life did you think you would be in such a position. But you were happy and almost grateful for your embarrassing workmates.

You returned with the wine, rose coloring still in your cheeks. Spencer was now playing with the kids under one of the many Christmas trees and you retook your position on the rug with JJ and Will, pouring them both a glass of white wine. No one teased anymore, no one laughed. There were just separate pods of conversation. Eventually, after picking up sleepy children off the couches in the lounge room, JJ and Will were thanking Rossi for such a lovely evening. Hotch not far behind with Jack. Those that were left were Morgan and Penelope, desperately arguing over whether or not ‘Die Hard’ was a Christmas film. Rossi and Emily, who were debating finer Scotches and Whiskeys. You watched on, amused by their friendships, and longing to be one of them. Until you noticed that Spencer had gone. You got up from the rug and wondered through the house, finding him on the balcony off the dining room.

You unlatched the door, alerting him to your presence. “Hey” He smiled softly at you. “Hey” You sounded unsure, “I’m sorry if that was super weird for you in there”. He chuckled under his breath slightly as you approached and stood next to him in the cold night air. “You know, I thought it would be... But it was... nice” He nodded, tucking his smile into his scarf. You tried to look away, hiding the permanent smile plastered on your face. “It was nice” You said gently. Spencer turned towards you, and unintentionally looked you up and down, “You must be so cold” He said, shedding his coat and draping it across your shoulders. You looked at the soft brown tweed and curled your nose, “But now, you’ll be cold”. “Doesn’t matter” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Spencer I-” He interrupted quickly, “Can I have a do over?”. “Sorry, what?” You shook off whatever you were going to say and clarified you heard him correctly. “I just- I would have kissed you differently, had they not set me up and cheered like an audience” He closed his eyes, “ I would have kissed you differently”.

Without saying anything, you slid your icy cold hand into his. Warmth radiated from his large hands as his fingers slid between yours. You pulled his hand and turned him to face you. “You can kiss me again” You mumbled. His eyes were so dark and deep, he held eye contact with you, bringing his face slightly down to meet you in the middle. His soft lips, tripping over yours hungrily. His breath warm on your face. His tender hands, not so gingerly on respectful places on your body like before. One hand slid up to your neck, lightly holding on, but eventually wrapping around to grasp the back of your neck. His other hand placed further south of the small of your back, pulling your whole body into him as his tongue delved into your mouth. You tried to move your hands, you tried to do anything, but your brain was completely overwhelmed and stunned by the warmth and pleasure washing over you.

He pulled away, kissing your cold nose, along your jawline. Pressing on last kiss to your lips, and then to your forehead as he wrapped his arms around you. Your body sunk into him. Even without his jacket, he was still so warm, and it was so inviting. You wrapped your arms around his back and held onto him as tightly as he held onto you. “This is a better Christmas story than the one I told before” You muttered at a giggle into his woolen jumper. Spencer smiled into the nape of your neck. “God, I hope so” He laughed, and you felt his whole body move against yours. After a while, you parted and just stood snuggled together on the balcony. “They really set us up, big time” You pondered. “I can’t believe Emily blabbed” Spencer shook his head. You looked sharply up at him. “Blabbed?” You asked confusedly. “Yeah... I kind of told her I had a crush on you” He tried to hide his face but you wouldn’t let him, you grabbed his hand and held it in your own. “Oh my god” That same old shocked expression was strewn back across your face. “I know, it’s super embarrassing and I’m sorry I didn’t -“ You interrupted him this time, “No, Spencer, I told Emily I had a crush on you” You said quickly, without thinking.

Both of you, stunned, really thought about how devious Emily was. Why did we do that? You asked yourself; the answer quite simply was, she was a very open person and people often told her their secrets. “I guess, I’m glad I told her” Spencer smiled, “Because otherwise I never would have got to kiss you”. You leaned up to his lips and kissed him again. “Now, you can kiss me anytime you want” You whispered to him, that gorgeous smile still fighting its way onto his face.

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Inside, Emily and Rossi stood in the doorway of the dining room, peering out onto the Balcony like a pair of sneaky teenagers. They had been watching for several minutes, and though they couldn’t hear the conversation, they knew they were busted for setting the whole thing up. “Thanks again, Dave” Em raised his glass of scotch to Dave’s brandy, both of them grinning like school girls. “Absolutely anytime, my dear” They clinked glasses and walked steadily back into the sitting room, arms around each other.

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sapnxps · 3 years ago

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(WTL) Chapter One: Greg the Neighbor- Georgenotfound x Reader

If I knew that when I moved to London, I'd have two weird neighbors, I'd laugh in your face. Now I'm friends with an old cat lady. Now I'm enemies with my cute neighbor that's definitely not single, who also screams too much.

Even though he's a dick, why can't I stop thinking about him?

My parents told me I’d regret moving to London from the state before I left because I’d miss them and the US too much.

They were half right.

I’m sitting on a box messily labeled ‘kitchen’ in the hallway of my new apartment complex. I huff, wiping the sticky sweat from my forehead. The moving bill is almost 4 thousand dollars. If I knew moving would be this expensive, I wouldn’t have moved out from my parent’s house until I was 40. Sure, I moved a lot of my belongings across the Atlantic ocean, but 4 thousand dollars? Who do I look like, Jeff Bezos?

Today has been hectic, to say the least. Three of my boxes somehow drifted away to Spain. Don’t ask me how that happened, I don’t even know. I’ve been unpacking by myself all day. A box of my kitchenware got shattered upon arrival. I should’ve listened to my Mom on that one, she told me to just buy plates and glasses here instead of shipping them here. Big mistake I’m never making again. Finally, the biggest chunk of my problems: My apartment is full of boxes and I don’t feel like unpacking. Maybe it’s the fact that I’ve been sleeping on an air mattress for two days, maybe not, but I woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. If one more thing goes wrong, I think I might lose it.

Begrudgingly, I lift myself up from the box I was sitting on. It’s a bit dented now, but the way it felt on my ass, it’s just pots and pans. I open the door, pulling this box into my apartment. I weakly push it into the kitchen. It collides with one of the boxes filled with shattered plates. The sound of the broken glass sliding across the box sounded like nails on a chalkboard. I need to make a note to properly dispose of that. Turning my head to look around my new home, I feel my brain's short circuit. All these boxes unpacked, I’ve barely made a dent. This is going to take for-fucking-ever. Moving is modern-day torture. Oh, that’s funny. Remember to tweet that later.

The next three hours of my life are taken up by filling up my kitchen cabinets and drawers with cutlery and various kitchen utensils. The counter was now less bare, housing my toaster and breadbox. My Tupperware containers sat in a special place in the far-right cabinet by the sink. It looked like this home was lived in, as long as you didn’t glance anywhere else besides the kitchen.

I soon after tackled the bathroom, which was the less intimidating room compared to the living room and bedroom. I got the shower curtain hung up, which made it look nice. The rug found its way to the floor, protecting my feet from the cold, cream tile. The shelves were now stocked with a few fluffy peach towels and soaps. Underneath the sink had cleaning supplies as well as spare toilet paper. Living alone meant having nobody to give you another roll if you finish the other one. Kinda sucks. I had a boyfriend during high school, and two years into college. I dreamed of living with him, we planned it all out. I’d finish college, we’d move to a city and rent out the tiniest apartment we could find. We’d live it out until eventually we made ends meet and the rest would be. Dreams cut short though, he cheated. It’s part of why I left in the first place. Needed a change of scenery, new people.

That’s where I am now. New people. Stuck on that part. Haven’t gotten a chance to meet any, which is oh so tragic. I can’t decide if I want to introduce myself to the neighbors or let them come to me? I’m stuck pondering on the thought until I hear a knock at the door. I wonder if my lost boxes have mysteriously arrived.

Opening the door, I’m greeted with an older woman, holding out a small cake into my space.

“Hi dear, I’m your neighbor to the right. Heard all the commotion, saw all the boxes. I had to see for myself the fresh meat in the complex,” She paused before lightly tapping my arm with her free hand. “Just teasing! It’s great to have another lady on this level. The young man to your left, handsome fella, never comes out much though. Hopefully, we can have a girl posse or something,” Her posh accent made her much different than me. Is it wrong to already feel isolated?

I grin at her, moving out of the way to invite her in. “Nice to meet you, feel free to come in. I apologize for all the boxes scattered around, moving has been proven to not be quite my talent,”

The woman smiles brightly at me, shock plastered on her face. “You’re American!”

“That I am,” I chuckle. She hands me the cake, which I gladly accept. My diet has consisted of soggy hash browns from the complex lobby. She makes her way to what is settled in the living room, politely setting herself on my suede blue couch across from the large wall in the room. I place the cake on my counter by the stove, making a mental note to grab a slice once the woman leaves.

The shock never leaves her aged face, “Oh goodness! How amazing. I have a foreigner as my neighbor. You’ll find London quite lovely. I know how it feels to be isolated and removed from what you’re used to, but I promise you’ll fit right in,” She says as I settle myself on the loveseat a bit away from the couch.

“Where are you from?” I ask. She obviously isn’t American.

She smiles, “Just a bit east of Surrey. South of London. Beautiful area, grew up on a small cottage,” The woman was glowing as she spoke of her hometown. She was obviously proud of where she grew up. Compared to my southern Arizona town, this place seemed like heaven. A cottage? Sign me up.

“Sounds lovely,” I speak truthfully.

“Welp,” The woman slaps her laps, a way of signaling it’s time to end the conversation. Despite only speaking for a small amount of time, she seems like someone I can come to if I ever have questions about London or the terminology that I hear around the city. I’ll need to remember that she’s the neighbor to the right. As she began to see herself out, I remembered the other neighbor she mentioned. The young man to the left. I believe she used the term ‘handsome fella’ to describe him. Once she was out in the hall, I felt the need to find out more information.

“Oh!” I shout, hanging myself out into the hallway. She pauses her steps, turning back to me. “By the way, who’s my other neighbor? The guy you were telling me about. Does he have a name?” I ask.

“Greg,” She nods, resuming her short walk back to her apartment.

Greg. Ugly name.

I completely forgot about the conversation by dinner time. As I was munching down on my cake, delicious by the way, I heard loud yelling from my right side. I wouldn’t even call it yelling, more like high-pitched screaming. Who was my neighbor over there again? Greg? Greg. He was causing a ruckus and a mere heart attack at that. He was screaming so loud I nearly jumped out of my skin the first time I heard it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he’s facing a very, very gruesome murder right now. Well, I guess I don’t know any better. I’m just wishing for the very best.

Another hour passes. The yelling never stops. It’s only 8, but my body is as awake as ever. I still have yet to get used to the new time zone. At times it was difficult, but I’m using it to my advantage now. I have some extra time to unpack and get my actual bed ready. My bed frame was put together professionally during lunch, so that was one thing checked off my list. The mattress I ordered was delivered yesterday. Now it was just the matter of putting the sheets on and preparing my duvet.

Fitted sheets fucking suck to put on a bed. I was currently struggling to put it on my nice mattress. It was edging close to 10 pm. The sky was dark, and I was stuck in some odd mixture of a starfish and the downward dog position. If this moment was a picture, it could be used for blackmail. The closer I got to finally getting the top right corner on my bed, the more stretched out I became. I was like one of those sticky hands you’d get in those toy dispensers at the grocery store. I was just about to get it, when another loud shriek could be heard. In shock, I slammed my head on the bed frame and lost grip of all four corners of the sheet.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I mumbled underneath my breath.

Whatever. He probably has a greater reason to be screaming like this, right? Justified shouting, whatever you want to call it. My bedroom is closer to his apartment than the kitchen was. Is it nosey to try to figure out what he’s saying? I don’t want to be that type of neighbor. I’ll continue minding my business because I don’t want to find out some weird shit about Greg that I don’t want to know.

The screaming never stopped.

In fact, if anything, it got louder. And louder. And louder. Is it okay to call the cops here?

It’s midnight now. The next fucking day. And Greg is still screaming at the top of his lungs as if everyone else isn’t asleep. If I saw some normal citizen just trying to get some rest, I’d be fed up. Well, I’m still fed up. I’m also running on a messed-up sleep schedule, so it’s not like I was trying to sleep anyways. My bed is made now, and comfy as hell. I built a shelf to house some of my small decorations, with the entertainment of my noisy neighbor’s yells to accompany me. For some odd reason, it made me feel less lonely.

At about 2, I began to reject the company. I felt irritation grow in my chest as I heard the same high-pitched shrieks that I heard at 8. The annoyance that bubbled in me overtook my politeness. Before I knew it, I was up and in the hallway banging on his door. I didn’t have the time to care about my Daffy Duck pajamas sticking to my legs due to the heatwave hitting England right now. Before I even realize it, my fist is slamming on his door. I never knew I had the power to knock that hard, but my anger and blossoming resentment overpowered me. I continued banging until the door pulled away from its frame. Now I’m face to face with Greg.

Boy was he handsome.

I was met with a man, about 5 foot 9. His dark brown hair was disheveled. Strands of hair laid across his forehead messily. If he wasn’t screaming, I would’ve thought he was sleeping. He was wearing a fluorescent green hoodie with an odd smile plastered on the front. It was a bit large for his skinny frame, that’s unimportant though. His grey sweatpants were twisted on his legs. What the fuck was he doing? His face was delicately shaped. This jawline looks sharp yet fragile like it was constructed of the most fragile rose crystal I’d ever seen. His brown eyes reminded me of caramel, thick and way too easy to get lost in.

“Hi, uh Greg-” I start. I’m just realizing now how close I am to him. The scent of his spearmint gum floods my nostrils. It’s a bit powerful, crinkling my nose at the smell. It wasn’t gross, just very shocking.

“George,” He spat. That’s fucking embarrassing. I’m meeting him for the first time and I got his name wrong. I’m not taken aback for long though, because his attitude oozing from his simple correction was enough to disgust me. I’ve done nothing wrong to him, except maybe get his name wrong. Was my moving too much of a nuisance to him? Poor little British thing, he can deal with it.

I cringe, “Oh, um, sorry.”

He leans into the door frame, sweatshirt adjusting to the movement. Forget a tiny bit large, he was swimming in this thing. “Yeah, no problem. Can I help you or are you selling girl scout cookies at,” George checks his watch. “2 in the morning. If you are, I’m not interested, sorry ‘bout that,” His outfit makes me feel a lot less aware of mine. Despite his face being rather attractive, the outfit makes him look like he just rolled out of bed.

“Oh, yeah. I was wondering if you could lower the volume a bit, please. Or just stop screaming entirely, if possible. I don’t know if you have some weird shouting fetish, but I certainly don’t,” I chuckle. George, however, doesn’t chuckle. Actually, he looks rather unamused. If a human was an art museum, it would be George. Curling into a ball and falling into an endless void doesn’t sound too awful right now. I think I’ll add that to my itinerary. I’ll do it in my bed so I’m at least comfortable while I’m drowning in my own self-pity.

He grimaces, “Yeah. Sure.”

He’s blunt. Got it.

The second I turn my back to the door, it slams. Wow. What a cunt. Shaking the interaction off, I begin to feel the wear and tear of the day beginning to hit me. Moving all those boxes made my muscles ache. The solution to all my problems today seems to be going to bed. Not that I’m not okay with that, just funny. The day before I left for London, you’d think I was shocked by lightning. The electricity that was running through my veins was no match for any ADHD medicine the FDA had ever approved. Now, my body is beginning to fall victim to the earlier time zone. Not that it was a big deal, it was going to happen eventually. These next few days would just entail a difficult sleeping schedule. Nothing I haven’t dealt with before.

I quickly find my way back to my own bedroom. The yelling was quieter, but I could still hear George through the thin walls. He was murmuring to someone softly. This apartment complex was all 1 bedroom apartments. He didn’t live alone. How lovely! I made a fool of myself to him, and he was most definitely telling his partner right now. Talk about dignity, am I right?

I scrolled through my phone for an hour, before the screaming returned to its original volume. Would it be overdramatic to say I felt my face go red with anger? I don’t think so. I think I handled the situation as politely as I could. Hell, I even cracked a joke so he could know I wasn’t that upset over the situation! If I knew he was going to resume his disruptive noises, I wouldn’t have been so nice or absolutely hilarious. Nobody that douchey gets my amazing humor. He didn’t even laugh! I hear another shout followed by a slam to a desk. What the fuck is wrong with this guy?

Welp. Welcome to London!

#georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound #gnf x reader #dream smp #fanfiction #enemies to lovers #enemies to friends to lovers #mcyt #mcyt fanfic #mcyt x reader #mcyt imagine #minecraft #smp #minecraft fanfiction

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7spaceace7 · 4 years ago

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These Thoughts We Carry

No one really knows about Sooga’s past. No one knows where he came from, or what burdens he carries. But Hylia damn them all, Master Kohga doesn’t let anybody go through that shit alone, especially when he knows what it’s like to deal with nightmares all the time. Especially when it’s the one he loves most.

Master Kohga x Sooga hurt/comfort fic that I churned out after like two days and a bad set of nightmares. I hope you enjoy! I’ll post it on AO3 as well!

Warnings: Implied physical abuse

Word count: 2387

In a desert, it is easy to forget that the sky can change. From early morning, it seems the sun is always burning down your back, clutching you in its comforting, yet suffocating, grasp. You almost forget that dusk is just hours away. The unclouded blue skies seem to go on forever.

Though, every resident of Hyrule knows that the desert night is even more unforgiving than the daytime’s blistering heat. You are placed at a disadvantage amongst your foes. Lizalfos and bokoblins settle in for unsuspecting prey wandering about the sands. Anyone who has the wit about them could surprise you, if you are unlucky. And of course, the frozen winds bring a chill that digs deep into bone when just moments before you might have been begging for such relief.

But none of those things were the reason Sooga hated the nights of Gerudo Desert. No, Sooga despised them for their unending silence. The vast emptiness. The endless searching for something besides your thoughts. Desert nights used this loneliness to stir up a past better left forgotten, and that is what Sooga hated most of all.

He stood at the entrance of the Yiga Clan hideout, just before the land dipped and delved into its rugged formations of rock. The inverted eye statues stood through the whistling winds. Their cloth counterparts strung up above blew with a disheveled intensity. This nuisance of a noise was the only sound Sooga could hear rustling through the valley. Well, that and perhaps his restless mind.

His thoughts were always loudest when he was trying to sleep, and often woke him up in the middle of the night. Tonight happened to be such a night where they were too loud to be kept inside the hideout. Certainly, they were too loud to continue resting next to Master Kohga, lest he wake him unnecessarily. Sooga would never dare to do this. Instead, he would resign himself to the chilled desert air at the beginning of the hideout when the memories became painful enough. If he could not sleep, at least he could be useful and take a nightwatch shift. His one good eye settled right on the valley’s opening.

Focus, Sooga. Do not let your mind drift.

But his memories would not be silenced. He remembered a broken picture frame from his dream that night. The frame once held a family of three, but had broken into a family of only cracks after a bout of rage from a man he once called a father. It might have meant nothing to anyone else, but to Sooga...the screaming of the drunken bastard entered his ears at the simple sight of it. Sooga tried desperately to shake it from his mind, but his memories of the nightmare shoved through.

A broken picture frame, pieces splintered around thatchwood floor. A broken picture frame, having been thrown at his person when he hadn’t the skill to protect himself. A broken picture frame, among other airborne objects, that he narrowly avoided by the miracle of perhaps Hylia herself.

The Yiga warrior let a shaky breath escape his masked lips. Fists clenched tightly, as if that man would be right behind him if only he found courage to look. A quick glance told him nothing was there, but his heart was not at ease.

Logically, Sooga knew there was nothing. He knew his father had left this world long ago. Sooga knew it so firmly because it was his own hands that finished him off. Simple strangulation, soon after he had only turned eighteen years of age. The warrior had made sure there was none of his father left in this world to haunt him ever again.

Yet here he was. Years later, still scared by ghosts he’d conjured up himself. The uniformed man sighed, and in a moment of weakness, pried off his white mask. Sooga was careful not to deepen the crack as his palm gingerly encased the object. Perhaps the cold air against his bare skin would be of use to his intruding thoughts. At least, he thought, it was nice to feel fresh air.

“There you are!” Came a familiar voice from behind his post. Sooga jumped and smacked the mask back onto his face in a panic. He blinked once from surprise, and once more from the shock he just gave his facial nerves.

“M-Master Kohga,” Sooga got to his feet and bowed automatically, hoping his pounding heartbeat wasn’t able to be heard by his superior. “I had not thought you were awake at this hour.”

“I wasn’t, but then I rolled over and realized you up and vanished,” Kohga yawned, scratching an itch at his neck. He was without his uniform, but still donned a type of mask. This one was specifically for sleep, and made of soft, red fabric that held a sewn pattern of the inverted eye, closed instead of open. For now, this mask rested atop his forehead. “Yunno, for a big guy, you’re real hard to find. Took me forever to figure out where you went.”

“My apologies, Master Kohga.”

“Eh, don’t sweat it, I was only a little worried,” This of course was a blatant lie, as Master Kohga had quickly woken up in a cold sweat after his hand fell upon an empty spot next to him in bed. He had grabbed only his robe in his haste to find where Sooga had gone. But of course, a dignified leader such as he would never have done a thing like that. Kohga took a spot next to Sooga’s post and sat down. “So what’re you doin’ way out here so late?”

Sooga was silent for a moment as he sat down next to his master. He contemplated brushing off the comment with a vague answer, but...something compelled him to confide instead.

“A dream demon made its attempt on my subconscious,” Sooga spoke. He hoped to retain at least a bit of dignity by acting professionally, but the facade was lost on Kohga. “I did not want to wake you with it.”

“Nightmares gettin’ to ya again, I see.”

Again? Had Kohga somehow already known of his recent night difficulties?

“Don’t look so surprised, we’ve been sleeping toge-- er, bunking --for a while now, and you get kinda squirmy when you aren’t dreaming well.”

Sooga hadn’t any idea of this happening. Shame sat upon his masked features and settled its way down to his throat. His tongue searched for something to say. An apology, perhaps? That was all he knew to do in a moment like this. Apologize for the inconvenience, apologize for the worries he must have induced, apologize for the disturbance of his master’s rest, apologize, apologize, apolo-

“You don’t have to feel bad, Sooga, I know you put all that pressure on yourself,” Master Kohga said. Sooga’s head turned towards the unmasked man beside him in utter surprise. Had he suddenly learned a new technique for mind-reading? “Nightmares suck. Real bad. I get it.”

Rather than questioning how he knew such an appropriate response, Sooga nodded, and dared to ask a different question.

“What...happens? When you are brought to notice I am not resting well, that is,” Sooga asked quietly, head turning away once more. It was no surprise that Sooga was soft-spoken, but that was out of his own self-discipline. His day-to-day tone was based on leadership and careful thought, but this...this was a tone Kohga had never heard from his friend before. This was laced with fear.

“Well, ah,” Kohga started. His brown eyes softened as he recalled one night waking to Sooga thrashing about their shared covers, murmuring something like a cry for help. To another night where Sooga had begun shaking uncontrollably. To a night just last week when he unmistakably heard a pleading for someone to stop. Stop what, Kohga didn’t know, and he knew even less of who it could be about. Even his best attempts to wake his second-in-command went without fruition. “Sometimes you say stuff. Sleep-talker nonsense, yunno, I usually don��t have a clue what you’re going on about. But you always seem so...scared.”

I always hold you when they get bad like that, Kohga wanted to say. The words were right there, threatening to spill out of him all at once in a jumble of messy worries and care that the Yiga master so desperately wanted to confess. But this wasn’t the time.

Kohga left out the part where he’d always wrap his arms around a nightmare-stricken Sooga to calm his shakes and trembles. He left out the part where he’d draped a hand across Sooga’s chest and gently adjusted his mask enough to wipe away the hidden tears. He left out the part where he’d discovered that nuzzling his face into Sooga’s neck would cause the larger man to remember he was safe and briefly find relief. At least, Kohga hoped he did.

“I am sorry you have seen me in such weakness, Master Kohga..” Sooga finally replied, bringing Kohga back to the present moment. Kohga was right next to him, but still, the man seemed so far away.

“Being afraid isn’t weakness. Everybody gets scared of stuff, even me,” Kohga nudged Sooga’s side in a lighthearted gesture, as they both knew just how terrified the ‘fearless leader of the Yiga Clan’ could really get. “This world’s full of some scary shit. You’re allowed to get scared, no matter how strong you are. And you’re, like, the strongest guy I know, besides me of course.”

“You truly believe that?”

“Course I do! I mean look atcha, you’re twice my size and a badass, dual-wielding blademaster. There’s no one in the world cooler than you and me, big guy.”

Sooga cracked a smile at that.

“My point is,” Kohga continued, “You don’t have to save face with me. Dream demons get to me too, yunno, that’s why I’ve got my big strong bodyguard next to me every night. That’s what makes me not so scared anymore. I know that nothin’s gonna get to me because if it tries, I’ve got you.”

Kohga paused, eyes drifting over to where Sooga’s own eye would be. “So, I wanna help you feel protected from ‘em, too.”

“But that is my job-” Sooga tried to protest, turning back to face his master.

“You deserve to feel safe, too, Sooga.”

Sooga was silent at this. They sat in the silence for a while, just simply staring at each other. Master Kohga’s brow furrowed in the rare serious manner that it did. He was determined to get Sooga to see how much he cared. He would do anything to help him, if only Sooga would allow it.

The warrior next to him saw that determination in his chocolate brown eyes, paired with another feeling he couldn’t quite pin. Whatever it was, it was inviting. Sooga couldn’t help but want to see it more. He wanted to share moments like this more, where it was just the two of them and neither put on a show. Moments where he could see the bouncing curls that framed Kohga’s chubby cheeks up close, and feel the warmth from his gaze. Perhaps one day, even, Sooga could let go of his own mask.

Kohga sighed, which led to a loud, long yawn overtaking his features. The plump clan master gave a little stretch and sat back against the wall. If Sooga didn’t want to, he wouldn’t bring it up again.

“I’m not gonna force you or anything, I just-”

“I would like to feel safe with you,” The words tumbled out of Sooga’s mouth before he had the notion to stop them. Somewhere along the lines, his hand had grabbed Kohga’s and was now clutching it tight. He hardly knew what he was doing, but didn’t back down. It felt right. “There are many things I must atone for. I do not know how to achieve this peace just yet, but…”

Kohga squeezed his hand back, trying to ignore the blatant blush dusting his cheeks. If not for the dark, surely Sooga would have seen and fretted over his health, as he often did, but Kohga wouldn’t mind. He never minded.

“I’ll be here the whole time,” He assured. And he meant it. Whatever Sooga needed, Kohga would offer help. It was obvious that the masked man was holding onto something painful, and Kohga would offer his support in any way that he could. Even if it interrupted his sleeping schedule.

Another yawn bubbled up from Kohga’s chest, and when he tried to stifle it, it forced out as a hiccup anyway.

Way to ruin a moment, Kohga thought.

Cute, Sooga chuckled to himself.

“Perhaps we should return to bed, and continue this in the morning,” Sooga offered. Master Kohga’s shoulders visibly relaxed in relief as he slumped his face into Sooga’s chest. It felt like two muscular pillows smushing against his cheeks, a blessing from Hylia probably. Er, Ganon. Totally meant Ganon.

“Yes please,” He whined pitifully. Another chuckle rumbled through Sooga’s chest, vibrating Kohga’s whole head.

This time, Sooga took to reading his master’s mind. His strong arms effortlessly picked up the stouter man and cradled him against his chest, as if Kohga were a bride. The night air brought a chill, after all, and Kohga had only dressed his robe over his undergarments. He looked down to the half-lidded face against him.

“I do appreciate your words, Master Kohga. I will always remember your kindness,” Sooga whispered above the wind. He looked down at the bundle of a man for a response, but only found soft snoring instead.

The stupendous chief of the Yiga Clan was asleep before his sentence was finished.

Sooga’s smile was soft. The winds of the desert night rolled behind him deep in the valley, and Sooga turned away from them feeling slightly freer. If any dream demons dared test his patience this night again, this time they would be answering to the courageous man in his arms.

#Master Kohga #Sooga #hwaoc #loz botw #age of calamity #yiga husbands #yiga clan #Master Kohga x Sooga #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #pre-calamity #Fanfics

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victoria-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Of Vices and Virtues

AN: This story is being crossposted from my Fanfiction account. I figured I might as well post it up here, there’s not enough black!oc X-Men fanfictions to be honest. If anyone wants to be added to the taglist for this story let me know.

Summary: Claudia Walker created the perfect facade she had a simple life, a simple job. There was nothing remarkable about her. Until two men offer her the chance to do something with her powers to stop a war looming on the horizon. In a fight between good and evil, loyalties strain and relationships grow. The world's changing for better and worse, and Claudia is right in the middle of it.

Disclaimer: I do not own X-Men just the OCs in the story.

Trigger warnings: none I can think of

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter One: The Queen of Hearts

The music started up, with the sultry tango beats of "Whatever Lola Wants" by Sarah Vaughn. Her colorful voice lit like a spark in the air, and with it, the seductive lyrics of the song. The air seemed to crackle as I spun away from my dance partner, but a strong hand ripped me back into his grasp. With glittering eyes I pressed myself against him, his hand tenderly slipping over my back. We side-stepped as the singer continued to croon the audience with her hypnotic lyrics.

"Whatever Lola wants, Lola gets,"

"And silly man, Lola wants you," I sung to the man, who was completely entranced.

He stopped dancing to trace along my curvy figure slowly, extracting a long breath from my lips. He rejoined my hands smoothing his over my fingers. I crossed my left foot seductively in front of the right, while cocking my head mischievously to side. He smiled and placed his right hand dangerously low on my back. Before he could change direction again, I elevated my right foot, kicking it behind me, and situated behind his right leg, coquettishly hooking around his toned calf. I smirked, savoring the attention I was getting from my dance partner and the men who were watching me dance.

The man copied me by kicking his right leg between the middle of my two. He was daring, and he pressed my chest into his.

"I always get what I aim for. And your heart and soul is what I came for,"

The song finished up and I pulled away from him, creating space between us, "You may go now, I've had my fun," I instructed, trailing my index finger up over the man's tie.

He nodded and shuffled off of the dance floor. I made my way off of the dance floor, to order another drink. It was Saturday night, and the nightlife was at its height. I took my seat on the bar stool, signaling for the bartender to pour me another drink. I grabbed my clutch that was hiding underneath the chair and opened it, pulling out a compact mirror.

I looked at my reflection, my eyes were a brilliant almond shape, with dark brown irises that held knowledge and wisdom beyond my years. My lashes were long, dark, and thick. My lips were red with lipstick, but full and perfect. My wide nose curved in a delicate slope and I could clearly see my defined cheekbones. I combed my fingers through my hair making sure that every hair was in place and checking that my makeup hadn't smudged. I snapped my mirror shut and placed back it back into my purse, a sigh escaping me.

I had always known I was different since I was a child. I always felt out of place. I never blamed my parents for that. They loved me and they always did what they thought was the best for me. Well, at least what was good for them I suppose.

It was at the age of eighteen when I left my home, leaving my past in Pennsylvania far behind me. My memories from there were unpleasant, to say the least, and I needed to leave. To start a new life elsewhere, in central New York. Money was never a problem, I had a decent paying job as a psychologist's assistant at a private practice and a well furnished apartment. But I still found myself drinking away my sorrows. At this point in my life, I had to every reason to be happy, but I knew deep down I wasn't. There was always that loneliness, biting at my insides.

Someone cleared their throat next to my ear, something I wasn't all to fond of.

I glanced at them, raising an eyebrow, "Something I can do for you, stranger?" I asked, barely masking my annoyance.

He smiled, and I made a note to admire it. He was pretty handsome it, but he was overly cocky, I could tell by the way he made himself comfortable next to me, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the bar, and getting way too into my personal space. Not to mention he was easily in his mid-forties. I had just turned twenty-two

“Fucking creep, I thought.

"Michael, my name is Michael, Mike for short. You can help me by maybe letting me buy you a drink,"

I raised an eyebrow at this, he moved pretty fast. He must do this all the time to women he thought were drunk. Too bad for him, it took me more than a couple of drinks to have lost my common sense. Pushing my shoulder length, curled black hair out of my face. I faced him to reply as two other men approached, I didn't want any trouble, but the audacity of the man made my blood boil.

"And what do you expect in return for this drink?"

He smiled and leaned in closer to me, placing a hand on my thigh.

"The bastard thought he was in, didn't he?" I thought.

"Well, maybe just a friend," he smirked.

I rolled my eyes and smiled lightly at him, leaning in until our lips barely touched.

"With you? I'd rather watch the grass grow," I replied dryly, eying him up and down, as if he was something I'd find on the bottom of my shoe. "My mama didn't raise me to accept drinks from men I barely know, and my daddy taught me how to break a hand in seven different places, so remove it or I'll do it for you, Mike," I punctuated my sentence by grasping his middle finger in my fist and slowly bending it back, until I heard the pop that let me knew I dislocated it. "Next time I'll break it," I threatened.

"You bitch-" He began, but was interrupted mid-word by me.

"Run along, before I make you gouge out your eyes with a butter knife," I commanded boredly, putting effort into making my words go through the older man's head. The man walked away dutifully and I smirked. "There's a good boy," I cooed, turning away from him and took a sip of my vodka martini.

I heard a chuckle of laughter behind me, causing me to turn around again and examine the new arrivals behind me. The two men who I saw previously were now directly behind me, they appeared to be in their early thirties or late twenties. Despite being slightly tipsy, I couldn't help but gape a little when I properly looked at the two men.

The taller of the two had his thick and muscled arms crossing themselves in front of his broad chest. Clad in a short navy trench coat over a pair of long, black pants and a black turtleneck, his perfectly slicked back hair was the ultimate factor that completed the dangerous, rugged look he was probably going for. He looked like a mafia member, or something.

His icy blue eyes were fixed onto my wandering brown eyes unflinchingly, as a dark brow rose to mock me, to tell me that he had seen me appraising his impressive form. I raised my eyebrow and smirked saucily before I turned my gaze away from the taller man and shifted it to the other one, now standing in front of me.

Unlike Mr. Mafia Man and his dark attire, this man was significantly more professional looking. With his sharp pressed grey blazer jacket, a white button up shirt worn inside, the matching dark grey pants and his polished shoes, this guy pretty much screamed 'successful businessman'. He, along with the other man had sharp masculine features – sharp nose, strong, angular jaw line, and the clearest blue eyes I have ever seen. His eyes were so blue they resembled crystals, and were framed by his dark brows. His short, dark hair was tousled casually.

"Your quite clever," the shorter man complimented, with a thick British accent.

"So I've been told, but I've done nothing tonight that would warrant such a compliment," I replied, looking at the man as I lifted my glass to my lips, taking another sip of my martini.

"I think you have, actually. The song, 'Whatever Lola Wants', it fits you," the man remarked.

I raised an eyebrow in confusion, although I had an inkling to know where this was going, "How so?" I asked curiously, tilting my head slightly.

"Has anyone told you that you have an excellent mutation?" the shorter man asked abruptly, a small smile on his face.

"Mutation? You call every woman you meet a mutant?" I snorted, widening my eyes and let out a chuckle that matched my expression, disbelief. "Wow! This must be the night, where the worst pick-up lines are thrown at me," I drawled, before taking another sip of my drink. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but I am just me. I am normal," I laughed, and the taller man just huffed annoyed.

The shorter man smiled at me, then I noticed that his fingers were pressed onto his temple and he was still looking at me. I frowned at the slight nudge in my head. It didn't hurt, but it was very irritating. I focused on strengthening my shield against the nudges. I felt the nudge grow stronger, it was attacking my shield before it finally gave up and left.

The man looked mildly surprised and my mouth turned into a small frown. I really didn't know why he was surprised. Unless.

Mutant.

I glared angrily at him, "I don't know who the hell you are, but stay out of my head!" I snarled. "You have no right!"

I always thought I was alone, that quickly changed only a couple years ago, but ever since that encounter...well I'm uneasy around other mutants, my own mutation was something I kept to myself, only select people in my family knew about it even.

He put his hands up in surrender, "You're right, my apologies. But how? No one has ever been able to feel me before. Are you a telepath?" he asked, studying me with curiosity shining through his eyes.

"No, I'm just highly aware of myself and those around me," I answered with a slight growl, slamming my glass down on the counter nearly breaking it. "You have your tricks, I have mine," I added, glaring at him.

"My name is Charles Xavier," the man introduced in an irritatingly friendly tone. "And this," he said, gesturing to the other man, "Is Erik Lehnsherr. We're like you. We're different. And we need your help. We are-"

"Is there a private place where we could talk?" Erik interjected hastily in a strong German accent, looking mad and broody, as he looked from one side to the next.

I didn't particularly want to know what, if anything at all, they were to offer. I sat there in silent for a few seconds, first looking at Charles, then at Erik, then back at Charles. If this was a game, it certainly wasn't funny in the least.

"Why should I even try to talk to you two? The first thing Mr. Xavier says to me is that I have a mutation and then he follows that up by trying to intrude my thoughts," I argued. "It has been a long and trying night gentlemen, and I'm over it. So, I'm going to try and scavenge what little fun I can find," I concluded, flashing them a faux smile just as a saxophone moaned through the opening of "I Put a Spell on You" by Screamin' Jay Hawkins.

"What do you know, my favorite song," I added grinning, and shook my head beginning to walk away from the two men, only to be stopped by Erik gripping my arm tightly. I leveled him with an icy stare, "Let go of me right now, or I will make you feel pain that you thought was unimaginable," my voice low and threatening.

"Erik..." Charles called warningly.

Erik loosened his grip, freeing my arm slightly, but he made it clear I wasn't going anywhere, "We know you know exactly what you are, and we know what you're capable of. Stop playing coy with us," Erik stated coldly.

"Two strange white men walk into a bar, approach a black woman and accuses her of being a mutant. Forgive me, but you expect me not to find that a bit suspicious," I sassed, before yanking my arm completely out of his grip. I spotted a booth occupied by two men and I walked towards the two men, I gently grasped their chins and looked them in the eyes. "Due to your undying love for me, you two are going to give up your seats," I demanded, manipulating their desires so they reflected my own wishes.

"Of course," one man said eagerly, sliding out of his seat.

"Your wish is my command," the other man stated, getting out of his seat as well.

"Hmm, I know," I smiled, lightly laughing. "Now leave me be," I commanded, shooing them away and the two men nodded their heads and kissed the back of my hands before their departure.

I looked over to Erik and Charles, to see Erik roll his eyes in annoyance and huff before he whispered something to Charles, whose expression was unreadable. Charles and Erik sat in the seat across from me, Erik sat a stiff as a board while Charles seemed relaxed.

I interlocked my fingers together, "Ah, now that is how a gentlemen should behave. I think you should learn from them, Mr. Lehnsherr," I suggested my lips curving into a smirk.

Erik scowled at me, "You never told us your name," he remarked irritated.

"You never asked, Mr. Lehnsherr. Maybe if Mr. Xavier, greeted me properly, you would know," I countered, looking between the two men. "Although, something tells me that you two already know," I added, arching my brow and leaning forward.

"Miss...Claudia Walker, am I right?" Charles asked.

I quickly glanced at Erik and it seemed like he had one eye concentrated on me whilst the other was focused at the crowd in the club.

I focused back on Charles, "You would be correct," I replied, lapsing back into an easy lean. "How exactly did you two find me?" I asked curiously.

"Well, I was in Cerebro-" Charles began.

"Cerebro?" I interjected, scrunching my eyebrows together in confusion.

"It's a machine that helps me locate people like us," Charles explained, he was way too excited to answer my question. He was almost bubbling with excitement. "I was surprised to find you. Your signature was so strong, powerful, which intrigued me. I quickly got your coordinates and here we are," Charles finished happily.

"You certainly didn't make it easy," Erik mentioned, in a slight annoyed tone.

"Hardly, you two are here now aren't you?" I questioned, my tone was playful and I could tell that it was grating Erik's nerves.

"Really? So my eyes weren't playing tricks on me yesterday?" he questioned, as he leaned forward slightly.

"Depends on what you saw," I quipped, a small smile beginning to show.

"I saw you start that brawl. The way your hand curled and your eyes narrowed, you made that skinny man kick the fat, bald one in his groin," Erik remarked, his own mouth curving as he smirked. "You nearly got us entangled in that predicament," he added, looking at me with his piercing eyes.

Not looking away I smiled dangerously, "Yeah that was me," I admitted with a shrug. "I had an inkling that was someone was following me yesterday, I just didn't know it was you two. Whoops," I commented, my voice dripping with sarcasm and shrugged my shoulders again.

"Well, speaking of powers, you know my power. And we would very much like to know all about yours, Miss Walker," Charles started.

"Please, call me Claudia," I started. "I'll demonstrate my powers, but Mr. Grumpy over there has to show me his first," I proposed, flicking my chin out, motioning towards Erik.

Erik's eyes met were now fully focused on me again and I returned his stare.

Charles smiled and leaned forward, his elbows on the table, "Erik has the ability to manipulate metal,"

I narrowed my eyes at Erik and he glared at me in return. He would be very powerful, even with the tiniest bit of metal he would be able to kill someone with the flick of his hand.

"What's that old phrase again?" I asked aloud, tilting my head up as if I was pondering the question. "Oh, that's right. Seeing is believing," I finished, looking back at Erik, raising my eyebrow in challenge.

Erik raised his eyebrows as well, before focusing his eyes on the cutlery in front of him. Nothing happened for a while before they started shaking and eventually they lifted off the table. My eyebrows raised as I stared at the floating knives and forks.

"Do you believe now?" Erik asked, and I could see a ghost of a smirk.

"Well, I'll be damned," I gasped smirking, as I watched the utensils gracefully land back on the table.

"There you go," Erik said. "We showed you ours, now show us yours,"

I sat up in my seat and reached a hand across the table and turned it palm up, "Mr. Xavier, would you be so kind to give me your hand?" I asked.

"Call me Charles, please," Charles replied, sliding his own hand into mine without a moment's hesitation, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Erik grimace.

"You’re too trusting by half, Charles," Erik commented, shaking his head.

I closed my fingers gently around Charles', and slowly a broad, blissful smile stretched across his face as I channeled sensations of contentment into him.

"An empath," he breathed. "My, that's...mmm, that's lovely," Charles laughed, I smirked as I slid my hand back across the table, and Charles took a moment to compose himself.

"Want to see something else?" I asked grinning.

"Yes, please!" Charles exclaimed, grinning back excitedly.

I focused my gaze on one of the knives on table, and narrowed my eyes in concentration. A purple aura surrounded the knife as it raised itself off of the table and floated in mid-air and I maneuvered it to have the blade facing Erik as Charles watched, fascinated at the display I was putting on.

"Remarkable," Charles breathed.

"You’re telekinetic," Erik stated boredly, snatching the knife out of the air by the handle.

"I am," I replied, looking at Erik. "Now, you two are going to tell me why I've been performing tricks like I'm in some circus show," I demanded, glancing between the two men in front of me.

Charles laughed, "You have amazing gifts, a mutation, an ability. Erik and I are recruiting people to help us and in the process you get to learn how to control your powers,"

"Recruiting?" I asked confused, looking at them suspiciously. "For what?"

"That is what we're here to talk to you about," Charles said, sensing the sudden guarded tone in my voice. His eyes held mine in an intense stare. "A war is upon us, Claudia,"

"Yes, I know. The one between the Soviets and America, everyone knows that," I stated, now leaning back into my seat. My mind was reeling at where the conversation was going. Charles nodded firmly. "But what has that got to do with mutants? Or me, more specifically?"

"One of the agents at the CIA discovered a plot, the spark that lit the fire for the nuclear war," This time, it was Erik that had spoken. His soft yet gruff voice flooded into my ears with its tough resonance. "She had gone undercover to see one of the American Colonel's getting pressured into installing missiles into Turkey. That was the first step to angering the Soviets, and they are planning to retaliate. From what she had described, it had been a mutant who was threatening the Colonel,"

"A mutant?" I questioned. "But why?"

"We have no idea as of yet," Charles offered, leaning back into his seat as well.

It was obvious to me that Charles was troubled by the fact that a fellow mutant would want to start a war between two powerful nations.

"Well, do you know who the mastermind is behind all of this?" I asked again, raising an eyebrow.

"Sebastian Shaw," Erik spat, the venom clear in his words. A frown was etched deep into his forehead and his eyes were glaring at the coffee table, as though willing it to break under the hatred burning in his cold blue orbs.

By the way I could sense the hatred coming from Erik's emotions, he was an enemy. A big one.

"So that's why you're recruiting people? Like me?" I asked.

"We're planning to stop Shaw before he could escalate this conflict any further. He has got his own army of mutants to help him," Charles replied. "We need ours," Charles finished.

I ran my hand down my face, closing my eyes and breathed out deeply. This was not how I planned my night going, these two men walk up to me, telling me how they are like me and need my help to prevent World War III. This was a lot for me to take in, in such a short period of time. I mentally made two lists, negative and positive. Positive points: Learn to hone my powers, meet other people like me and this was probably the only chance for me to fit in and have something. Negative points: This could be a trap and if it wasn't a trap my powers could probably kill someone else.

"Give this a chance," Charles' voice urged gently, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I opened my eyes and staring at the two men, Charles and Erik staring back at me. Charles looked at me patiently and Erik looked like as though he had just proven something to Charles.

I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and took a deep breath, "While this sounds very dire and adventurous, I can't," I answered shaking my head. "Why should I come? I have a perfectly good life right now, with a decent paying job. I don't want to be involved in any war,"

"What?" Erik started, raising an eyebrow. "You don't just charm your way out of everything?" Erik asked mockingly.

I looked at Erik pointedly and glared, "No, actually. Having everything handed to you, makes life quite boring," I retorted.

"We've already spoken to your boss about it," Charles chimed in. "He's willing to grant you an indefinite period of leave from work. Or at least until the whole thing is over," he explained.

"He agreed?" I balked, thinking back to the measly, overweight doctor who had many a times refused to grant me my annual break, unless I used my powers on him.

Charles smiled, "The words 'government' and 'CIA' can be very convincing in situations such as these,"

"He must think me to be some criminal or spy now," I muttered more to myself, before scowling up at the two when I realized what they had done. "You guys move fast. What if I didn't want to join your little team?"

"You'll get your job back," Charles shrugged his shoulders. "Your boss wouldn't even remember meeting anyone by the names of Charles Xavier or Erik Lehnsherr," He tapped his fingers against his temple with a proud smile.

"How convenient, but even if I agree to join you, my life will never be the same. I will be ostracized even more than I already am," I reasoned.

"You don't think the public will accept you?" Charles questioned.

"Charles, please tell me that you’re not this naive?" I asked back. "I don't know how you folks do it across the sea. But Charles, look at me, I am a black woman in America, I'm barely accepted now and I live in the northern part of America. Why would they accept me? Black people are being murdered for the color of their skin since this country was founded. People in the past have been killed for being different. Just look what happened with the Jews and Hitler," I pointed out.

I could feel Erik's mind radiating with anger. I frowned and when I looked up and saw Erik's face. He looked like he stuck in between an inner battle with himself.

"I think humans will accept us sooner or later," Charles stated optimistically.

"Perhaps, that remains to be seen. They don't even accept humans with a different skin color," I countered. Momentarily, a silence fell over us before I spoke up and broke it. "Just to be clear, this isn't some sort of a trap? You two aren't trying to experiment on me?" I asked in a serious tone. "And the CIA and African-Americans do not have the best history, so promise me that they won't try to assassinate me and label me as some black radical," I added.

Charles looked slightly amused, but shook his head, "No, we won't hurt you and the CIA won't hurt you, I promise," Charles reassured, and I nodded then stood up.

I was probably going to regret this.

"I'll...help you guys," I began.

"Thank you, Claudia," Charles interjected gently.

"But, let's be clear that doesn't mean I trust you. We've only just met," I explained, glancing at the two of them.

"Completely understandable, Claudia," Charles replied, nodding his head.

"One more condition, if you want my help," I stated, and Erik scoffed and I glared at him.

"This should be interesting," Erik drawled.

I looked back at Charles, "You have to promise me, if I occasionally let my mental shield down, you will not look inside my mind," I demanded.

Charles looked quite stunned, "Of course. But can I ask, how can you block me out? You're not a telepath,"

My gaze hardened again, "I once knew someone who was,"

Chapter Two: Division X

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