#a few weeks or so after this she up and bails for seven months leaving nothing but a note

[saturdaysh0rts]

One more propaganda push before the polls close

@homemadegirlbossbattle​

Vote Chrysanta!!

Chrysanta’s peak girlboss years as a highway robber

Countin’ Cards

Chrysanta (age 29) playing cards with her pal Vincent Valentine (the artist’s very own PC in this d&d campaign). As the title would imply, she’s counting cards. And maybe proper cheating a little too.

All art credit to @shmungles​

And one more (partial) chapter under the cut. More girlbossery and badassery from Chrysanta. TWs in the tags.

Simon was working a shift that night at the saloon, I knew, and Dot liked to go with him, so I headed right there. A drink might be nice, anyhow.

"Mama!" Dot's tiny voice squealed as I walked in.

“Hello, my little Sunshine!”

She ran up to me, holding up a large pink button for me to see. "Look! It's pink!"

I crouched to meet her and gasped in awe. "It is! That's beautiful, Sweet Pea. Where'd you get it?"

She pointed at Lars, who sat on a barstool at the long counter, ale in hand.

"Well that was awful sweet of them to give you. Did you tell them thank you?"

She nodded all proud of herself.

"Good job, Kiddo." I stood and walked with her back to the bar and took a seat next to Lars, lifting Dot onto my lap as she continued to gaze at her new button in admiration. Simon leaned over the bar and I leaned forward to meet him and give him a peck on the lips.

"How was the trip?" he asked.

"Just fine," I said. "Easy goin'. Nothin' too exciting."

It was a slow night at the saloon. The only other folks there were Heather and her husband, seated at a table along the wall opposite the bar. I ignored her and she returned the favor.

“What can I get for you, Beautiful?” Simon asked me.

I grinned. "Well, Handsome, I think I'll take a whiskey.”

“Coming right up.”

Lars, who I learned very quickly was five drinks in, struck up a conversation about how nasty they thought whiskey was while Simon poured my drink. No sooner had he set the glass in front of me than a couple folks I didn’t recognize wandered in. Lars and Simon didn’t bat an eye, kept on talkin’ about alcohol and how different types were made, but I didn’t take my eyes off the strangers. One look and I knew they were trouble. I was suddenly glad I hadn’t dropped off my weapons at home before coming here. Nothing they were doing was wrong, but it was almost like a smell they gave off. It was a man and a woman, both young, maybe early twenties, and both wearing warm, worn clothes. The man had long, light-colored hair tied behind his head and wore a tooth on a necklace. The woman’s hair was short and she had a piercing in her lower lip with a scar running from it to her left ear. They didn’t appear to be… no, they were both armed, just hiding it. The man had a shortsword stowed at his hip, almost covered by his traveler’s cloak. The woman almost certainly had her hand on a gun of some kind in her oversized coat pocket.

I wanted to get Dot outta there, but if these folks were here for trouble, they’d be trying to make sure nobody left.

"Hey Sweet Pea, I think I left a couple o’ buttons I was gonna give you in the storeroom behind the bar. Can you go find 'em?"

Her little eyes lit up.

"They might be lost back there, so you might have to look around for 'em real good, okay?”

"Okay!" She wiggled off my lap and ran back into the storeroom. Hopefully that’d keep her safely occupied and outta the way if shit went south.

Simon shot me a confused look as he stepped away from his conversation with Lars to greet the newcomers. The two strangers watched Dot run back into the storeroom and then approached the bar, stopping a couple seats down from me and Lars. I watched them real close from the edge of my seat. If they weren’t blocking the exit, maybe they weren’t here to make trouble. Or maybe they were just… yeah, they were just too stupid to block the exit.

The second the woman drew her gun on Simon, I was already directly behind the man with my sword over his throat. I was glad I was able to catch him off guard—I’d lost a lot of strength in the past few years. He gasped, and as he did, I got my revolver trained on the woman, too.

“Put that away,” I commanded before she had a chance to say a word to Simon, “and w-walk out now.” My goddamned stutter. This was exactly why Corvus always did the talking back when we was in these strangers’ shoes.

The woman turned to see me, and her face instantly fell. “Wh– Hey, we…” She faltered, caught by complete surprise. She didn’t lower her weapon, though.

“W-walk away now,” I repeated. “This is m-me askin’ nicely. I ain’t gonna do it again.”

Her eyes shifted between me and Simon, connecting dots in her head. "Are you really going to make me shoot your little girl's dad?" she threatened, but I knew it was a bluff. I had her beat and she knew it.

"Go ahead," I told her, pressing my blade a little closer to the man's throat. "Ain't neither of you gonna live to feel the guilt of it anyw-way."

Simon was frozen in the corner of my eye. I wanted to look at him, reassure him, see how he was doing, but I held eye contact with the woman. If my stutter was gonna screw me over, I could at least make up for it with composure.

After a moment, she lifted her hands in the air, gun still in hand, and backed off. “Fine, fine,” she relented.

“Gun on the c-c—-counter.” Fuck me.

She relaxed her arms for a second and scoffed. “You sure you have the balls to shoot?”

I pulled the hammer back on my revolver. “You’re fixin’ to find out.”

“Kiyori…” the man breathed from behind my sword, voice shaking.

“Alright, fine, gods…” She set her gun down on the bar.

“Honey, if you would?” I said.

Simon didn’t move.

“Simon, the gun.”

He jumped and shook himself, then took the gun, depositing it safely (I assumed) under the counter.

“Alright, will you let him go now?” the woman asked.

“You go out first,” I said. “He follows.”

The woman started backing toward the door.

“Mama?” Dot’s voice cut through the room, soft and afraid. Shit.

“Go to Daddy, Baby. Everything’s okay.”

In the corner of my vision, Simon swooped in and scooped her up from the doorway that led to the storeroom.

I watched the woman back out the swinging saloon doors all the way to the street, waited a good minute, then let the man go, shoving him away from me with the butt of my shortsword. “I see your w-weapon. Don’t try anything funny, just leave.”

He shot me an angry look before walking away, giving an indignant shrug on the way out. I watched them through the gap above the doors til they walked off down the road.

Every person in the saloon seemed to let out a breath at once.

“What the fuck was that, Chrysanta?” Lars half-shouted. “Holy hell!” They laughed.

I still didn���t take my eyes off the door. “Lars, please don’t cuss in front of Dot.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Lars said. “I mean, uh, dang… See this is why I drink here instead of in front of my own kids. Anyway. Cheers to you for all that,” he congratulated me, followed by the sound of a small splash. “Shit. Hey Si, you got a napkin back there?”

Simon didn’t move, and only then did I take my eyes off the door to look at him and Dot. They were also watching the door, or at least looking in that direction. Simon’s eyes had a far-off look, and it seemed like he was still holding his breath.

“Simon,” I said. “You okay?”

His eyes re-focused and he blinked when I said his name. He turned to look at me. “Yeah, I’m–”

I threw myself to the ground before I knew why, and as I did, I felt something graze my arm. Only after I moved did I register the BANG of a gunshot that came before it.

Dot shrieked and began to sob loudly. Lars tripped and fell trying to scramble off his barstool. Heather and her husband slid off their seats and crouched under their table, trembling. I scrambled back to my feet as the saloon doors swung open. The woman held a second gun, and the man had his shortsword drawn. He walked right at me as his companion scooted herself behind the bar.

"You. Money. Now," she barked at Simon.

Simon put Dot on the ground and kept her behind him as he backed away. She clutched his leg and kept sobbing. My blood boiled. Anger like I hadn’t felt in years took over, and I breathed deep to calm the adrenaline that rushed over me.

The man swung his sword at me and I dodged, ducking under it to pop back up and smack him across the face with my revolver in my right hand. As he stumbled, I jabbed my own sword deep into his right shoulder. He cried out at the impact and lost his grip on his weapon. Using my sword to keep him at arm’s length, I crossed my right arm over my left, and fired my revolver twice at the woman, quick as I could while having to pull back the hammer between rounds. She dropped.

Corvus was cut short by two quick gunshots that sent blood spattering from his face as he dropped straight to the ground.

The man grabbed at my hair with his uninjured arm and yanked, bringing my attention back to him. I kicked him in the balls, and he released my hair and doubled over. Using my sword in his shoulder as a leverage point, I threw him to the ground and then pulled my sword back, blood dripping from the blade. He made a move for his dropped weapon, and I kicked it away, leveling my gun at his head.

The realization hit him that he'd lost. He collapsed onto his back and stuck his hands up. “Don’t shoot!” he cried. “Please don’t shoot. Please, please don’t–”

“Lars, go get Doctor Murata if you ain’t too drunk,” I shouted over the man’s pleas for his life and Dot’s continued screaming.

“Yeah,” they said. “Doctor Murata. Yeah, I can do that.” They scrambled up from the ground and took off out the door.

“Heather, go find the sheriff.”

Slowly, timidly, she got up from under the table. She inched toward the door, glancing nervously between me and the man on the ground. Her husband followed.

“Hurry it up, please, I don’t w-wanna be here all night.”

They picked up the pace.

“Dot? Simon, Honey? You okay?” They was still behind the bar, but somewhere behind me. I knew better than to take my eyes off my prisoner to look.

“Yeah,” Simon said. “Yeah, we’re good.” He appeared in my peripherals, shushing Dot as he bounced her gently in his arms, trying to keep her from looking at any of the mess that was left. Her cries were becoming less screams and more sobs.

“Listen, the woman I shot,” I said to him. “Make sure she doesn’t move, assuming she ain’t dead.”

“I’ve got Dot,” he said.

“Yeah, and neither of us’ll have her if that w-woman gets up while we ain't lookin’,” I said. “I can’t take my eyes offa this fu… fella.” I narrowly stopped myself from cussing.

Simon left my peripheral vision, and Dot’s crying picked up again. She’d seen a couple dead bodies before, living in a monastery and all, but never that much blood.

“It’s okay, Sweetie,” Simon said softly. “Look at me. Eyes on Dad.”

I heard the splash of a small trickle of water. He was giving the woman a last taste of water, the first step in the death rites that also helped check if a dead person was actually, well, dead.

“I think… I think she’s gone.”

I sighed. More work for me and Aria tomorrow.

At Simon’s words, the stranger who still lived started breathing faster and shallower. “No. No. Kiyori?! KIYORI?!”

‘CORVUS!’ My own voice rang in my head. I shook myself. Breathe in, hold, breathe out, hold. Keep it together. Least til the sheriff gets here.

I talked myself through every breath as the man broke down in front of me. He screamed and stupidly grabbed for my gun. I didn’t have to shoot him though, cause Simon appeared right then and pinned him down with a foot to his chest.

Dot was still crying.

“You should get her outta here,” I told him.

“I’m not leaving you alone with this guy,” Simon insisted.

“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I have a gun. He doesn’t.”

“I–” Another scream from Dot cut him off. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.”

He left, bouncing her gently in his arms some more as he went.

The man kept on shouting curses and throwing insults at me, but I tuned it out. I just kept breathing in, hold, out, hold, keeping my hand and gun steady til Lars got back with Doctor Murata. The man was too distraught to let her get close to him to look at his shoulder. Not too long after, the sheriff arrived, manacled the stranger, and hauled him off while the doctor followed behind. As soon as they was out the door, I dropped my weapons onto a table and collapsed into a chair. I tried to keep breathing evenly.

“Man, I need another drink after that,” Lars said.

“Bar’s closed, Lars,” I said. “You should go home.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” they sighed. “Hey, since when do you know how to fight like that?”

“Since always,” I said.

They nodded and started shuffling toward the door. “Damn. Well, Chrysanta, that was incredible, and I’m definitely gonna be way more fucked up about all this when I’m sober. Sorry. See you.”

I couldn’t get any words out in reply, but they left anyway.

My Breath was steadily getting out of control. I squeezed my eyes shut. A fire ignited on spilled liquor in front of me. I could smell gunsmoke. My heartbeat pounded in my ears. Corvus was cut short by two quick gunshots that sent blood spattering from his face… Another gunshot. My arm was sticky with my own blood.

“Chrys, you’re bleeding.”

“Huh?” I blinked and I saw Simon leaning over the bar to find a fresh towel. He found one, then crouched beside me and dabbed at my right arm where the bullet had grazed it earlier. The wound wasn’t deep, probably wouldn’t even need stitches. As he cleaned me up, I realized I’d taken Corvus’ bird stone from my pocket without thinking, and I was running my thumb over the carved design.

“Where’s Dot?” I asked.

“At home. Aria and Tsunayo are there with her,” Simon said. “Did you dodge that bullet?”

“I don’t… I don’t know. I guess so.”

“You ducked so fast, I thought for a second you’d been shot. It scared me.” He brushed all the hair away from my face and ran his hand gently down my torso, my arms, my legs, checking me all over for any other injuries. “I'm sorry I wasn’t much help," he said. "I froze up.”

I shook my head. “It’s okay, don’t be sorry. You looked after Dot.”

“I didn’t know you could do that,” he said.

“Do what?”

“All of that. I mean I knew you’d been in your fair share of fights, but seeing it was… Goddamn, Chrys. It was like you knew what was going to happen before it did.”

It never occurred to me til now that the closest Simon had ever been to seeing me in a fight was the couple times I went out with my revolver to check on a suspicious noise in the middle of the night. He’d never seen me do anything like tonight, or like I used to do before we met. “I been on the other side o’ that enough times in my life…” I trailed off.

Me and Corvus made our dramatic entrance into the tavern. I smelled blood as I shot the waitress, slit a man’s throat. Fire. Gunsmoke. Corvus was cut short by two quick gunshots.

“Can you hold me?” My voice was barely a whisper.

Immediately and without a word, Simon squeezed me to his chest. It had been a while since I’d had flashbacks like this, like nightmares in the daytime. Simon stroked my hair and gave me gentle kisses on my head while I took deep breaths to collect myself.

“Are you okay?” Simon asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I wanna go see Dot and go to bed.”

"Me too," he agreed, and tied the towel he was still holding around my arm as a temporary bandage.

Simon stayed behind to clean the saloon as well as he could that night before locking up. The whole ordeal had left a lot of blood on the floor. I carried the body of the dead stranger to the monastery and left her in the crematorium.

When I got inside, Dot was still sniffling as Tsunayo held her in her lap. As soon as I walked in, she started crying in earnest again and wiggled away from Tsunayo. I picked her up as she ran to me, and her cries subsided back to sniffles.

Simon hadn’t told Aria and Tsunayo much when he’d dropped Dot off with them, so I explained the situation a little more and thanked them for looking after Dot. Simon got home soon after they left, and he sat next to us in front of the fire and held us both close until Dot wore herself out crying and fell asleep. Simon put her to bed then went to bed himself, but I stayed up in front of the fire for a bit, promising to be in soon. I knew I wasn’t gonna sleep that night anyway.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman I shot—Kiyori, the man called her. I couldn’t get over the rage I still felt, seeing her point a gun at my husband and child. At my child. But if I really thought about it, had I been that different from her all those years ago? I never shot a kid, but I did shoot a few folks in front of their own kids.

I stared at the crackling fire. Tomorrow would be back to more of the same as it always was these days. And I’d have to figure out how to handle Dot. Shit, she’d just watched her Mama shoot a woman. Barely three years old and she’d already seen more violence than I had before I was twelve. I should’ve went with her to make sure she stayed in the storeroom. Or sent Simon or Lars or something. I was already messing this up. Messing her up like I'd got messed up.

What was I doing here? What was I doing trying to raise a kid? Who was I kidding? Even if I wanted to be here, I knew I didn’t deserve a quiet life with a loving husband and daughter. Kiyori sure didn’t, so why should I get one? And besides that, Dot deserved a better mother than someone so violent. She deserved better than a mother who was miserable living in her own home, who couldn’t even get out of bed half the time. Simon deserved a better partner than that, too. My heart ached for them, but it also ached for the desert, for watching the stars above me as I fell asleep, for the sweet relief of sitting in the sand after a hard day’s work. I was trying. I really was. But I was in pain here, and I knew it was only a matter of time before it started to affect Dot, if it hadn’t already. This was why I never wanted a kid in the first place. I’d never wish her gone, though. Never that.

Before I knew it, the fire had burnt itself out and the sun was rising. I stood. I had work to do. Those bodies wouldn’t bury themselves.

[loveharlow]

SEVEN - 005

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[6.2k] based on 1x05.

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mild violence, detainment, mentions of child abuse

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ here's how I imagine TR's midsummer's outfit, also shoutout to Chris on the tumblr support team and bigger shoutout to @thepoguelife101 for helping me to get this uploaded.

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

PETERKIN SLAMMED HER OFFICE DOOR SHUT. You sat in the chair across from her personal one, avoiding her eyes as she sat on the wood of the desk. “Y’know, I expected to see your friend in here. But not you.” The woman started. “Especially not with a felony as your first offense. Felony destruction of property could get you tried as an adult.” 

You remained silent, fiddling with your fingernails as she tried to intimidate you with an unwavering stare. A common interrogation tactic, you learned that from your mother. 

“Unlawful discharge of a firearm, trespass on protected habitat, felony destruction. Those are all Maybank’s charges, your little partner in crime?” She listed off. “I want you to take a trip with me into uncharted territory — your future. Picture this,” She started, leaning in further. “You, six months from now, sittin’ in juvie in Wadesboro, just a cell block away from the Maybank boy.”

You cringed at the thought, eyes finally looking at the Sheriff in front of you. She pulled out two papers from a manilla folder, laying them out in front of you. “You seen these guys? You know ‘em?” She inquired, crossing her arms over her chest as your eyes scanned the pictures.

They were mugshots of the square groupers. But you remained silent, jaw clenched and eyes stoic. “Do I need to repeat myself?” Her voice was lower now. You pondered for a few moments, should you tell her or keep quiet? But you figured the damage was already done.

“They…broke into John B’s house, trashed the place. They chased us through The Marsh, too.” You told her, making eye contact with the older woman now and scratching the back of your neck. 

She huffed under her breath, pulling more documents from the folder. “Here’s a more recent photo.” She laid them out, the photos presented to you almost made you gag. They were autopsy images of the groupers — deep slashes, pale skin, and bloated bodies. “Somebody gaffed ‘em, then used ‘em for chum. Whoever killed these men is still out there, and I got pretty solid reasons to believe their next target is that friend of yours. John B?” She told you. 

Then, she was leaning down so close that her lips were right next to your ear but you didn’t move. “You kids don’t think you’re the only ones after the Royal Merchant, do you?” Your eyes flicked over to hers, staring at the woman through hooded lids. “Yeah, I know about that, too.” She muttered before getting up and rounding the desk again, placing herself behind it.

“He isn’t looking for it, anymore.” You blurted, straightening in the metal chair. “Okay? He’s done.”

“Yeah, your friend said the same thing when I had him in here. I’m just tryna keep him safe. So, I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told him. See if your friend John B is interested in talkin’ to me and maybe we can keep you out of Wadesboro.” She snipped, shuffling the documents back into her folder and leaving the office.

“ARE YOU HER GUARDIAN?” The officer behind the reception desk asked, your mother shuffling with her purse angrily on the other side of the glass as you stood behind her. 

“Unfortunately. I’m her mother.” She snapped, sending a nasty glare your way that you rolled your eyes in response to. 

“Hearing will be in two weeks. If you fail to show up, you forfeit your bail.” The lady-officer informed, not even offering up a glance. “The restitution will be based on the average of three outside estimates of the cost of the damaged article. Sign right here, please...” She instructed, shoving the clipboard through the glass-slot.

You squinted your eyes harshly and sighed. You didn’t even think about restitution and your were praying that Topper’s boat wasn’t crazy expensive. You could faintly hear your mother muttering under her breath as she absentmindedly scribbled her signature on the bottom of the papers, spinning the clipboard back around to the officer before turning on her heels to face you.

“Let’s go. Now.” Her pumps clacked against the precinct floors, the woman practically throwing the Sheriff Station doors open. You followed closely behind, throwing your slightly matted hair into a ponytail. The jailhouse look was not your best one. “So, when I told you about the Thornton’s boat you just neglected to mention that you were the one that did it?”

You yawned as you tried to keep up with her pace, too tired to respond sensibly. “Yeah, I guess…”

She chuckled with no humor behind it. “The least you could do is pretend to care. The only reason I’m not going to make you pay this restitution your damn self is because I don’t need this becoming a bigger issue than it already is. Do you think I need the entirety of Figure Eight knowing my daughter’s facing a felony charge against one of the most prominent families on the island?”

“Right…” You dragged out, licking the bottom of your front teeth. “Because God forbid the Cul de sac finds out I sunk a boat after getting roundhouse kicked in the ribs...”

Your mother sighed, stopping on the driver’s side of her sleek, black SUV as your rounded the passenger side. Just then, you spotted JJ walking with his father, who you hadn’t seen in God knows how long. Your mother seemed to follow your line of vision, wagging her finger from the other side of the car.

“No. You?” She pointed. “You stay away from that boy, do you hear me? You stay away from all of those pogues.”

“Are you serious? He’s my best friend.”

“Yeah, well not today, he isn’t. Get in the damn car.” She spat, yanking her own door open and jumping inside before slamming it shut. You stood with your hand on the handle, watching JJ hesitantly get in the car with his father. Reluctantly, you opened your own passenger side door and got inside. Your mother nearly broke the key with the aggressive that she started the car with.

Your eyes were glued on Luke’s vehicle as your mother drove off but you could’ve sworn their car was shaking a crack-addict. And if you weren’t crazy, you saw a fist connect with a face through the back windshield. Your back straightened in your seat. “Wait, mom-”

“You mind your business.” She warned, looking between the road and you. “What happens between that boy and his father is none of your concern...”

YOU PRACTICALLY BOLTED UP TO THE COMFORT OF YOUR ROOM WHEN YOU WALKED THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR. Marley was sitting on your bed. You felt bad for being away from her so often recently, but you knew she could entertain yourself. You always left her three bowl of food and water when you had a feeling you’d be gone, knowing your mom didn’t care for the dog as much as she used to. Or at all, really.

Your mother had stopped her yelling and berating about ten minutes into the ride home, receiving a phone call from Shoupe. Even with the device to your ear, you could still make out what the man was saying.

He and Peterkin sent out units to basically spy on John B ‘s house, planning to wait until the boy appeared and make their move. Moments like this made you despise living on an island that was hit by frequent hurricanes, unable to warn any of your friends about what was happening, especially not knowing when John B would pop back up after his run from DCS.

The animal jumped off the bed at the sight of you, jumping on you as you knelt down to her height.

“Hey, Marls.” You cooed, scratching the retriever’s neck as you wiggled up underneath you. “I know, I miss you too. How you been, girl?”

“...Thanks, Anna. I’ll let her know..” Your mothers voice rang in your ears as she stopped in front of your open door, ending the call she was on. Her attention was directed towards you now as she rolled up the sleeves on her blazer slightly. “Clean yourself up. You’re going dress shopping with Kiara.”

“For?”

“Midsummers. You’re going.” You groaned, you’d never been to Midsummer’s because this was your first-year as a Figure Eight resident. With the help of Mrs. C, Kie’s mom, your mom managed to wiggle her way into the Island Club, scoring you an place at Midsummers. Kie described it as the ‘Met Gala from Hell’.

“Wouldn’t a better punishment be not allowing me to go?” You tried, even though you knew she’d never go for it.

“No because that’s exactly what you want, both you and Kiara.” She said, so you assumed this was a small punishment for your best friend, too. “Shower, buy a nice presentable dress, and be there. On time.” Was all the woman said before she continued down the hall to her own room.

Your eyes drifted down to the dog as you pouted, she was staring up at you cutely, mouth open and tail wagging. “I’ll steal you some sliders”

“SERIOUSLY, YOU LOOK GREAT.” Kie gushed beside you, eyeing your hair as you walked into the dress shop. “Like, I know neither of us want to go but you look like a goddess. For real.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle, bell jingling above the door as you both entered the small corner shop on the mainland. “I won’t say I don’t want to go just yet. I’ve never been...” You told the brown-haired girl. 

“Anything I can help you ladies with?” An employee approached with a bright smile, hands clasped in front of her. She looked so well put together.

“Oh, we’re okay. Thank you.” Kiara politely declined, leading to the racks in the back by your arm. “Everything in here is so hideous but there is a gold mine in the back. No pun intended.” She whispered as she tugging you towards racks you wouldn’t even know were there without her.

“Sometimes, people try and hide their shit on the clearance rack so no one will take it and they can come back and buy it later.” She told you.

You eyed a couple of dresses that peeked your interest — a slim black one, a floral green one, a lacey blue one. There were so many. You plucked up at least five dresses from the rack, Kie’s arms just as full as you both silently search, the shop music playing in the back.

When you were both satisfied, you rushed to the dressing rooms. Kie went first and you almost forgot how picky she was. The girl looked good in almost anything but when she walked out in a purple, cowl necklace, satin dress, you both knew it was the one.

“Oh my, Kie, you look so good!” You exclaimed, squealing like a school-girl. “The purple makes your skin look amazing, Kie, you have to get it.”

“I’m not leaving the shop without it.” She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world, a smile on her face. “Okay, let me change so you can try yours on.” She said, slipping back into the dressing room as you gathered your hangers of dresses from the seat beside you and entered the room after she left.

The first couple of dresses were just not your thing. It was either too loose or unflattering in color. You were about to give up and head back to the racks until you realized you still had one more dress to try on — a mulberry colored dress with a sweetheart neckline. Slipping it on, you stepped out of the dressing room and did a twirl for a Kie.

“...If you don’t buy it, I fucking will.” She looked you up and down with wide eyes.

“Is that a yes?” You questioned.

“It’s a hell yes.” She scoffed. “You look stunning in that dress, Y/N.”

“Need any help in here?” The same employee from earlier came in, stopping in her tracks when her eyes landed on you. “My God, it suits you so well.” You weren’t sure if she was just doing her job but her compliment was all you needed to decide that this was your Midsummers dress, for sure. “Oh! I have just the thing to compliment it.” The woman gushed, rushing out of the fitting room and returning within seconds, a flower-band hairpiece in her hands. 

She placed it gently atop your hair, adjusting it until it sat right. She told you you looked beautiful and left you and Kie to yourselves once more, not before bringing a matching hairpiece for Kie that suited her purple dress. The employee took all of your unwanted dresses back for you while the both of you re-dressed and went back out to search for shoes.

With Kie’s help, you settled on a pair of block-heel pumps that closely resembled the color of your dress. The woman at the register happily rung you both up, offering you a friendly smile on your way out the door. You were maybe five feet from leaving when a familiar head of blonde hair entered the shop as you and Kie were leaving, bumping in between the middle of both of you.

“Oh! I’m so sorry-” She stopped mid-apology when she realized who she was apologizing to. “Oh. It’s just you two.” Sarah’s tone wasn’t as cheery as she eyed you both up and down. “Midsummer’s?” She asked, motioning towards the bags in your hands.

“Yep.” Kie gave the girl a fake smile. “How about you? Out for prey?”

“Okay, you know what, Kie?” Sarah started, causing a scene in the small shop as you tugged on Kie’s arm.

“We should just go…” You whispered.

“Oh! And thanks for sinking my boyfriend’s boat, Y/n. Real classy.” You couldn’t help but scoff, edging in front of Kiara.

“Which boyfriend? I mean, it’s clear that Top isn't your main man anymore, so when’s the next guy gonna pop out?” The blonde girl smiled, licking the bottom of her top teeth before speaking.

“Be careful what you wish for.” She spoke in hushed tone, your eyes pinching in on each other.

“The hell’s that supposed to mean?” Kie jumped in.

“Is there a problem… over here?” An employee came over, a much older woman. The manager you assumed.

“No.” You replied, winding your arm through keys before pushing the store door open. “No problem at all.” You told the lady, eyes mugging Sarah as you left.

“EXCUSE ME SIR, DO WE HAVE TO SHUCK THESE OURSELVES?” Kiara put on a fake accent as you both snuck up behind Pope, the boy turning around with an irritated expression before realizing it was you two. “‘Cause it might mess up my costume.” Kie laughed.

He smiled and pulled you both into a tight hug. When he released you both, he turned to you first. “I’m so sorry. I should’ve never-”

“Pope, don’t. It was my idea.” He swallowed his pride, accepting that you wouldn’t allow him to apologize.

“Have you seen JJ? Since the arrest?” He asked, voice laced with worry.

You nodded. “We spent the night in the holding cell together. Last I saw him was when he left the station with his dad…” You told him, the events of this morning flashing in your mind. You knew JJ’s dad was a little off his rocker but now you were wondering just how bad it’s gotten. 

Pope’s mind seemed to wander after that. You wanted to ask if he knew anything, if you were right to be worried but you decided to just wait until you saw JJ. 

“You ever seen this many kooks in one place?” Kie cut in, staring at the growing crowd of people.

“Yeah,” Pope replied, standing next to her. “Last year.”

“We’re in the lion’s den.” She said solemnly, eyeing Topper and Kelce from across the field.  Applause broke out prompting your attention to turn to the family entering the party — The Camerons. Rose, Ward, Rafe, Sarah, and Wheezie descended the stairs in typical Cameron fashion. “Here come Lord Capital and the Exploiters. This is gonna be fun…”

IT’D BEEN A COUPLE HOURS SINCE YOU’D ARRIVED AT MIDSUMMERS. You and Kie had been sneaking Pope drinks as he worked, almost getting busted by Heyward. 

“Y’know, I’ll admit,” Kie started as you both leaned against each other while Pope continued preparing food in front of the grill. “This is a lot more fun with you guys here.”

“Aww,” You cooed, rubbing the girl’s arm. “We love you, too.”

She giggled. “Are you tipsy?” You looked up at her through your lashes as you leaned on her arm. You held up your hand, hovering your index finger and thumb in front of one another.

“Jus’ a little.” You whispered, eyes drifting around the party. You watched the party-goers dance and drink and socialize. But your eyes managed to land on a familiar head of scruffy blonde hair. “Is that JJ?” You perked up, taking your weight off of Kiara. You hiked up your dress slightly in order to speed-walk across the lawn and reach the boy, Kiara calling out behind you. “JJ!” you whisper-yelled, catching the boys attention.

He looked star-struck for the briefest of moments and he still hadn’t spoken when you reached him. You waved a hand in front of his face, snapping him out of it and watching a small smile edge on his features.

“It’s so good to see you, princess.” He cheered quietly pulling you into a tight bear-hug, lifting you a few inches off the ground. You didn’t hesitate to hug him back, wounding your arms around his neck right before he put you down. 

But your smile dropped when you got a good look at his face. “JJ..” You whispered, fingers tracing the bottom of his lip where a large cut sat, a large bruise on his cheek. “Did your dad do this?”

His blue eyes met yours, pulling your hand from his face and holding it in his own and edging closer to you. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

“What do you mean don’t worry about it, JJ? He can’t hit you like that-”

“It’s nothing that hasn’t happened before.” He cut you off. “Okay? Just keep it to yourself. Please, Y/n.”

You looked between both of his eyes — they were pleading with you to just drop it. To let it go. And you didn’t want to. But JJ did. You nodded, squeezing his hand. “Okay…” you agreed. “Don’t worry about all of this, okay? My mom’s gonna pay the restitution, so if that’s why your dad’s mad just let him know-”

“It’s okay.” The blonde. “John B and I, we have a plan. We’re back in the G-game.” Your eyes went wide.

“But there was nothing there. The wreck was empty, JJ.” 

“John B will explain everything, alright? But I have to do somethin’ really really quick.” He backed away, walking backwards from you, basically skipping. “And you look gorgeous, by the way! Prettiest Pogue Princess there ever was!” He mildly-shouted as he walked away, a bright smile breaking out on your face. 

You turned back around to find Kie just standing there. “What was that?” She inquired as you both walked back to Pope. 

“What was what?” You asked, plucking a shrimp off the scorching grill as Pope swatted your hand away with the tongs.

“You and JJ…” She trailed off. “You don’t think that was weird?”

You scoffed, looking up at her through your lashes. “He’s one of my best friends, Kie. Plus, we’ve been through a lot in the last 24 hours. Why are you making it weird?” She didn’t respond after that, just giving you an odd look. You only spoke again once Pope asked what happened. “JJ says we’re back in the G-game.”

“How?” Pope asked, still paying most attention to the food in front of him.

“Not sure. He says John B will explain it all later.” You pulled your phone out of your bra, looking at the time. “Shit. I need to go find my mother before I become the next thing on the grill. She wants me to meet some business partners of hers.” You dismissed, waving goodbye to your two friends.

You weaved through the crowd, spotting your mother at one of the decorated table talking to a much older, elderly couple. She spotted you and pointed before motioning you over. You stood next to her, smiling at the couple.

“Mr. and Mrs. Daugherty, this is my daughter, Y/n.” You shook their hands, told them it was nice to meet them. Your mother had explained that these were the people that helped her succeed in law so she wanted you to meet them and get their advice, despite your several protests that law was not your desired career path.

She kept trying to fit you into her shoes knowing they would never fit. But you listened to their takes and advice, mostly for their sake. You’d been idly engaging until you saw JJ bolt into the clubhouse, Rafe and his crew hot on his tail. Your plastered smile dropping for the smallest of moments.

“I’m so sorry,” You chuckled awkwardly. “You wouldn’t mind if I used the restroom, would you?”

“Not at all, darling-” The old woman told you but your mother was quick to add in her two cents.

“You can hold it, can’t you?” She fake laughed, eyes going back and forth between you and her mentors. “I mean, you wouldn’t want to be rude.”

“I didn’t know peeing was rude, Mother.” You cocked your head, lifting the skirt of your dress as to not trip over it on your way into the clubhouse, looking at the Daugherty’s once more before you left, offering them a smile. “Excuse me.” 

You walked as fast as you could into the building, accidentally bumping guest after guest on your way in. You no longer had sights on the group of guys, following the trail of shocked guests and shifted furniture that they left behind. 

To the people around, you probably looked a little crazed but this wasn’t like at The Point or at The Golf Course or during The Movie. Rafe would have JJ cornered with two guys behind him. You knew that realistically you stood no chance against a trio of guys but you weren’t about to leave JJ to fend for himself.

You searched the place up and down, stumbling towards the restrooms, immediately heading into the men’s one. You ignored the wold-whistles, protests, and men peacefully using the urinals, following the sound of hushed voices into the connected locker room. 

“Actually, there is an issue,” You heard JJ’s voice as you got closer. “We got a criminal trespass in progress here. Blatant disrespect for private property, I’m in violation of all kinds of shit here, sir.” You shook your head at his words, knowing he was seconds away from getting thrown out. The Island Club’s security was tight. 

“Excuse me, miss,” a voice startled you from behind, causing you to whip around. “You can’t be in here.” You opened your mouth, stuttering to find an excuse as the other security stared at you but you just settled on throwing your arms up. Clearly, JJ was safe, even though he was getting kicked out. 

As you were being led out, you looked behind you to see that the other officer had a hold of JJ before Rafe’s voice sounded out. “Hey, tell Y/n she looks hot in that dress! But she looks so much hotter out of it, trust me!” The Cameron boy laughed out and you watched as JJ snatched himself out of the guard’s hold and charged back into the locker room. The action made your heart jump but you weren’t sure for what reason as the other guard continued leading you out into the main hall of the clubhouse. 

You weren’t sure which exit the other security guard has escorted JJ out of so you made your way back to the deck of the clubhouse, head whipping left and right until you spotted that familiar head of blonde hair. JJ was reckless and chaotic but he was still your friend.

You weren’t gonna watch as they practically threw him out an event when he didn’t even instigate anything. “It’s okay everybody! Do not panic.” He shouted with his hands up in the air, the majority of the party’s attention now on him. “Leave it to the men and woman in uniform. Let’s hear it for them! Rose, you look like lady liberty.” 

“You can let go of him!” You called, skipping down the steps and into the grass. “He doesn’t have to be manhandled, he didn’t do anything!” The security turned to you, still gripping JJ by the upper arm. JJ took the opportunity to shove the man off of him, his blue eyes on yours across the lawn.

“Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, princess!” He pointed at you. “Kie? Pope?” He motioned to them as well. “Rixon’s Cove. Let’s roll! Throw off your chains!” You watched as Kiara snatched away from her parents and Pope ran away from his dad. You were making a move to follow them when a hand gripped your upper arm, your mother coming into view.

“We talked about this.” She said firmly, fire in her eyes. “Do not embarrass me, right now.” The woman warned.

“I don’t think there’s any way for me to make you proud anymore, Mom.” You told her sadly in a hushed tone before snatching your arm out of her grip, running towards your friends. You could hear her calling out your name behind you but you ignored her, jumping into JJ’s open arms and leaving Midsummers. 

CICADA’S CHIRPED IN THE MIDDLE OF RIXON’S COVE AS YOU ALL SAT AROUND A RAGING BONFIRE, waiting for JB to speak. “So, like, my dad’s already gonna kill me.” Pope started, sat on a log in front of the fire across from you and Kie while JJ and John B stood, throwing rocks. “So, what’s this mandatory meeting about?”

The two boys sat down, eyeing each other before JJ spoke. “Might as well tell him before we’re gaffed, man.” He said, the statement mainly directed at John B.

“...The gold never went down with the Royal Merchant. It’s been here the whole time.” The brunette said, a small victorious smile on his face.

“Here?” You exclaimed incredulously from where your head laid on Kiara’s shoulder. He just offered up a simple nod.

“It’s on the island.”

“I would like to voice my skepticism.” Pope raised his hand.

“I’m sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you my evidence, sir?” John B spoke mockingly as he got up to speak at the forefront of the group.

Pope motioned with his hand. “Proceed.”

“In my backpack, I have a letter from Denmark Tanny. Denmark Tanny was a slave that survived the Royal Merchant wreck. Check it,” He handed Kiara the letter as you eyed it as well. “Slaves weren’t mentioned as crew members on the ship, but my dad found the complete manifest. That was his big discovery. Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom, and then his farm.”

Kiara passed the paper across the fire for JJ and Pope to see as John B continued. “And that farm is, drumroll please…” Kiara patted her thighs rapidly, shaking your frame back and forth which prompted you to sit up straight. “Tannyhill Plantation.”

You blinked hard, craning your neck forward. “Tannyhill?” You and Kie exclaimed simultaneously. Like, the Cameron’s Tannyhill?

“Yeah. After that, he used the money to free even more slaves, and then he sold a shit-ton of rice, which pisses off all the white planters, and they decide to lynch him. On the day they were coming to get him, he writes a farewell letter to his son and in the last line of that letter, he leaves a coded message about the gold’s location.”

“Where?”

“Harvest the wheat in parcel nine, near the water. Except, there’s no wheat. Wheat is code for gold, seeing as the gold has the wheat symbol engraved into it.” He slapped Pope’s shoulder with a smile.

“Holy shit...” The dark-skinned boy said. 

“All we need is an original survey map of the property, and we’ve found the gold.” John B concluded, small smiles on the faces of the entire group.

“So, whats the plan?” You asked, and you figured it was nothing good when John B had his attention fully on you and Kiara, his shoulders square. “Well, Sarah Cameron’s coming tonight-”

“Hold on...” Kie was the first to speak.

“She’ll bring an original survey map.” 

“Why Sarah?” She asked.

“This is gonna be good…” JJ muttered, looking down at his feet.

John B sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. “She… got me into the archives at Chapel Hill yesterday. That’s where I got the letter.”

“You were at Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron?” Kie spat out unbelievably.

“He was mackin’ on her.” JJ added in quickly, avoiding all eye contact.

“Of course...” You muttered disappointingly.

“I wasn’t macking on her, okay? I was… using her for access.” 

“Did you tell her about the treasure?” Kiara inquired, an undertone of hurt laced in her voice. 

“I was trying to get into the archives!” JB argued back.

“Is that a yes?” You chimed in, truly not believing John B could be that idiotic. But you guessed that was the Sarah Cameron effect.

“I was just using her for information. I’m trying to make us filthy rich here. Okay? So, that we can pay off a boat, or send Pope to autopsy school so he can study dead bodies. Look, you guys know me.” He continued talking, looking around at the group. Kiara was visibly uncomfortable. “Do I look like the type of person to fall for Sarah Cameron?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed with scoff. 

“Look, you guys don’t know her yet, I do!”

“John B, we do know her. A hell of a lot better than you ever will,” You started, anger and betrayal in your voice. “For the last time, you can’t trust her. With the gold or your feelings.”

“Her brother did hit me in the back with a golf club...” Pope reminded, massaging his shoulder with a grimace.

You blew out a breath of air. “Yeah, her brother’s done a lot of things…” You quipped underneath your breath. 

“What’d she do to you both, exactly?’ JJ aimed the inquiry at you and Kiara.

“She’s like a spitting cobra.” Kie spat out. “First, she blinds you and then- and then she-”

“This is a bad analogy…” The blonde muttered.

“Listen to me!” Kiara pleaded. “Whatever we get, she’s going to try to take...”

“I THINK I’M GONNA DO THIS ONE BY MYSELF…” John B told the four of you who were crowded in the back of The Twinkie. Kiara rolled her eyes and the rest of you sighed unbelievably. “I don’t wanna spook Sarah with the peanut gallery.” 

“I just don’t understand why we’re involving her at all.” Kiara snapped, throwing her shoulders up.

“Kie, we’re not involving her, okay? It’s just, like, a business…meeting…thing.”

“A business meeting between their tongues…” You muttered as JJ made kissing motions with both his hands. 

“Look, once we get what we need, we cut her loose, alright?” John B reaffirmed the group, dismissing your suspicion and doubt. 

“...Promise me nothing is happening between you two.”

“Nothing is happening, Kie.” The boy sighed. 

“I’m being serious. This isn’t about you and this isn’t about us,” You, JJ and Pope shared a tense glance.  Was Kiara sure she didn’t have a thing for him? “Dude, she’s gonna get inside your head. Just promise me nothing’s happening between you guys.” She spoke solemnly.

“I…I promise.” John B told her. “...Anyways, I’m gonna go.” John B said in farewell, opening the van door and exiting.

“We’ll just sit here…in this hot ass car.” Pope said as he shut the door.

“...Can’t believe he’s been seeing Sarah Cameron.” You thought aloud, disgust filling your words.

“You guys do know that holding onto your grudge is like drinking poison and hoping Sarah will die, right?” Pope threw out. 

“‘Hope is the companion of power and mother of success.’” You quipped back, remembering the quote from a random in class. 

“Seriously, what went down between you three? This is like some deep-rooted hate.” JJ added.

“Does it matter? We’re supposed to be a team and John B jumping ship to mack on the Kook Princess doesn’t exactly scream teamwork.” You told them. “We all know that deep down, when we find this gold, John B is going to have fallen madly in love with the serial cheating, two-faced snake that is Sarah Cameron and she’s going to break his measly little heart and steal what we find and then we’ll be left gold-less and picking up the pieces of John Booker Routledge’s little broken heart.” 

The space fell silent after your small rant, wide-eyed glances exchanged between the three. “Okay, I was wrong. That is some deep-rooted hate.”

“We shouldn’t have let him go out there alone…” Kie muttered, staring out of the window, thunder clapping outside. It was a thought shared amongst you all, a silent agreement. The van fell into a comfortable silence for a few moments.

Until it was broken.

“...help!”

Your eyebrows pinched together, lifting your head from JJ’s shoulder. “Did you hear that?” You asked looking up at the blonde. 

“Hear what?” You all sat silently for a few more moments, the only sound being the howling wind and the thunder booming until you heard it again, this time you all did.

“Somebody please help!”

You all didn’t wait to sprint out of the van, almost knocking one another over on your way out. You don’t even know how you and Kiara managed to run in heels without tripping. The four of you bolted in the direction of the tower, following the path that John B took and reaching the end of it to find Sarah cradling his unconscious body.

“Sarah! What happened?” Pope questioned as you all came to an abrupt stop in front her.

“He needs help. I don’t know what to do. Topper shoved him.” She cried, rocking back and forth with John B in her arms.

“From the top of the tower?! What the fuck was Topper doing here?” You spat out, head whirling left and right looking for any sign of the aforementioned boy.

“Where is he, now?” JJ interrogated.

“Please get help, I don’t care who. Just call someone.” Sarah bellowed as JJ urged Pope to run for help, especially with all of your phones being abandoned in the Twinkie.

“John B, stay with me…” The blonde girl cooed, running her fingers through his hair before planting her lips against his. You glanced to the side, not missing the absolute look of betrayal in Kie’s eyes and maybe you would’ve found the same emotion in your own.

John B lied, to all of you. But that was the least of your concerns now.

YOU HATED THE FEEL OF HOSPITALS. They were stale and sterile and boring. But most importantly, they made you anxious. The four of you sat in the waiting room, they wouldn’t allow you in the actual hospital room because Ward had paid for it and he wanted to give Sarah a moment with John B when he woke up.

“This is such bullshit.” You said unbelievably, tapping your foot incessantly. “She cheats on her boyfriend and gets our friend thrown from a tower but we can’t even sit in his hospital room? She’s probably holding his hand and praying like some widow…”

“Let’s just be glad that John B’s okay…” Pope tried to reason.

“No, Pope,” Kiara rolled her eyes. “He lied to us. Did you see the way she was holding him and-” She cut herself off, throwing herself back into the chair. 

“Look, we can be mad when he wakes up, but let’s just chill right now, alright?” JJ snapped, basically telling you all to shut it and you only then took notice of how tense he was — biting his fingernails, his hands visibly shaking. You took his unoccupied hand into yours, giving it a squeeze. He absentmindedly returned the gesture. “When I find Topper, I’m going to kill him. I should’ve done it on the beach…”

“Don’t say that.” You told him firmly. “That’s how they want you to think, JJ. Don’t feed into it, otherwise they win.”

“They always win, anyway.”

“Only if you let them.” You concluded, letting the hospital noise fill the silence — telephones ringing, patients coughing, nurses walking, family members crying. 

Taking in the scene around you, where you had all landed, you were starting to wonder if finding gold was really worth the trouble.

next chapter >

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©loveharlow.

[inej-ruination-ghafa]

lavender haze - t.m

midnights masterlist | maroon

Warnings: alcoholism, prison, a kind of toxic relationship but it isn't really and is just evolving

Summary: you were tired of Tommy and his constant prison breaks but when he calls one night and she ignores it, he realises its the last straw.

Wordcount: 3.8k

He had promised himself that he would never think about you again, never think about the one girl who had managed to break a playboy's heart but as he was hauled into that car, he wasn't ashamed that he blurted out your home phone number to the police.

They threw him into the back of the car ignoring his words and that’s when the shame set in. He shouldn’t be thinking about you as his first point of contact when an emergency happened but he did, almost like a reflex.

He had loved you for the longest time so when you had finally agreed to date him, he had been overjoyed. He had treated you like you were a queen, like you were a goddess and he was only worthy of kneeling at your altar.

It had been good for a few months, it had been amazing actually. That was until his old habits started to set in again. He was drinking heavily, coming home at 3am and collapsing on the sofa, getting into bar fights and causing trouble. You couldn’t count the amount of times you had to patch him up after a fight on one hand.

You loved him, more than anything else in the entire world but when you had to bail him out of jail three times within the span of four weeks, your relationship started to crash down.

It was little things, small petty fights over him tracking mud into the house, or breaking a vase when he came in drunk. It all culminated into him yelling at you drunk at a party, leaving you to kick him out of the house, throwing his clothes in a suitcase and leaving it at Joel's house.

He woke up in his car, hungover and confused. He couldn't believe that he had ruined the relationship for himself and no matter how many times he called and begged for your forgiveness, you never answered. It had been two months since the altercation and he doubted you would ever forgive him so he tried to forget, drowning in a bottle of tequila and passing out on Joel’s couch.

The whole drive was overwhelming, the sound of the street along him drowning him. The sound of static from the police radio and the cars driving past in the night, the wind coming in through the slightly cranked down window all allowed him not to think too hard about you.

Not to think too hard about the curve of your face, the way that you would smile and your eyes would crinkle in the corners, that little scrunch your nose would do whenever he did something just slightly amusing. He didn’t want to think about any of the good things about you but he always came back to it.

Always come back to you.

He would always come back to the image of you lying in his bed in just his shirt, the sun coming in through the curtains in the summer breeze. You were always the image of perfection, even when you’d just woken up and he had thrown that all away for some addiction that he was trying to get over.

Like a child sensing that they’re nearing the house, he looked out of the window to see the flashing lights of the police station come into view.

The man opened the door, placing a hand on the top of Tommys head as he manoeuvred him out of the car. They looked at his record, a couple of small misdemeanours but nothing big enough to give him jail time. They brought him over to the phone for his one phone call and Tommy didn't know what to do.

He hesitated at the machine. He took a deep breath in through his nose, exhaling slowly, just like you taught him. He turned the first digit, wondering whether he should pester Joel with another call. It didn't seem fair to him, or the seven year old Sarah.

Anyway, his body was trying to convince him to call you. Like muscle memory, he called you up, dialling in your number like he never forgot it.

When he finished, the phone made a clicking noise and he pulled the phone up to his ear, hands still cuffed together which made the whole thing a little but more difficult. He waited for a second and then that familiar dial tone started to ring through his ears.

There was a nervous sinking feeling in his stomach, wondering if you would answer. If you had any sense you wouldnt and Tommy began to regret his decision to use his one phone call to call a woman that he knew probably wouldn't even answer.

It kept going, that ominous and grating sound of the dialling machine. Tommy stared at the phone, eyes practically glaring into the phone in some hope that you would pick up. But it didn’t, it just rang and it rang and it rang and eventually it stopped.

That’s when he heard your voice, “Hi, it’s me,” you started to say, a cheerful tone to your voice and Tommy's heart skipped a beat, allowing himself a moment of optimism before you continued into the prerecorded message, “If I haven’t picked up it must mean I’m super busy so call me back after the beep,”

He pulled away from the phone, forehead falling onto the machine as he just stood there for a second with the realisation that you had finally let go of him but he hadn’t let go of you. He should have called Joel, or Nigel from work, or even that blonde that he had been talking to sometimes when he got lonely but no, he chose you and you had let him down.

The two police officers who were standing behind him shared a look between them, one that was full of pity. They had seen many men walk the floors of these cells, seen many of them get angry girlfriends turning up and frustrated siblings and parents but it was very rare that their one phone call didn’t pick up.

“Come on,” one said, ignoring the feeling of pity for Tommy that was sinking in his stomach.

He placed a gentle hand on Tommys bicep, trying to usher him away but Tommy shook the man's hand away, turning to him with tears in his eyes. The officer wanted to be mad but he could see how much you ignoring his phone call had hurt him.

“Please, let me call her again,” he was begging at this point, desperate for you to answer.

Her. The officer knew it was a girlfriend or some woman who was important to him who had left him hanging there. Even he thought that what you had done was wrong, he was in no place to judge, it was just his job to take him back into the cell.

Tommy Miller had done so many things in his life. He had been in the army, praising a flag that he had believed in and he had failed at that. He had tried to be a good brother, a good uncle and sometimes he succeeded but deep down he knew he was failing. And now he had failed you again but ending up in prison; you were the only flag he would praise if he could, get on his hands and knees and beg for forgiveness if that’s what yo7 wanted him to do.

“Wait, she’ll call me back,” he muttered, almost not believing it himself,

“We have to go,”

“Fuck that,” his tone was angry and the police officers face turned from one of pit6 to one of anger as he tightened his grip on his arm, “Sorry, I, just,” he took a deep breath, composing himself, not letting any of the tears slip out, “Let me try again,”

“One phone call, that’s it,” the man stated.

There was silence as he knocked his forehead into the phone. He couldn't believe that you had let him down, but he had let you down first. He had let you down so many times and he understood why you didn't answer the call, he wouldn’t have answered it if someone had done to him what he had done to you.

The police officer sighed, knowing how it felt to be a young man in prison on a small charge, “Son, lets go,” he tried to sound harsh but it sounded more pitying.

You had heard the call. You had let the phone ring and ring and ring because you knew who it was from. The only person who ever called you at 3am in the morning was Tommy Miller.

Tommy nodded, allowing the man to pull him towards the cell, chucking him in there. He sat on the bench, hands up cuffed at this point. He had his head in his hands, not knowing what he was going to do.

It had been two months and you felt awful about ignoring him. Everyone had told you that you did the right thing by leaving him, especially after he blew up at you. You knew about his alcoholism and nobody else really did.

You heard your own voicemail go off and waited.

The phone rang again, he didn't normally ring twice.

The phone rang again, you started to worry.

When the phone rang for a third time, you stormed across the room, pulling the phone off of its holder and bringing it to your ear, “Mrs Miller?” The man questioned.

You had never heard the voice before and you don't recognise the number, also, nobody had ever called you that before and you couldn't deny the flutter in your stomach at the sound of the words.

“No, that’s not my last name,” you stated, confused. You looked around, panic starting to set in, “Who the hell is this?”

“I didn't think that was your last name,” the man muttered to himself before he cleared his throat, “Tommys in jail again,”

“Who is this?” You repeated, shaking your head.

The police officer from earlier was standing at the desk, having rang you on his own personal phone in hopes that you would have picked up. He smiled to himself, “Officer Mulligan, ma’am,” he stated, “Tommy Miller was arrested earlier this even-“

You scoffed into the phone, cutting his conversation off, “I don’t care, goodbye,” you said, fully prepared to hang up on the police officer.

You didn't want to have anything to do with him anymore. He had broken your heart and you were done giving him any attention or say in your life. This was where it ended.

“Please don't,” he called out, ignoring the looks that he received from some other men at the station, “I was like him once, had a girl like you. I didn't make that call and I should have, maybe I wouldn't have ended up here,” he took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “You don’t have to come, but here’s the address, come pick him up,”

He said the address before hanging up and you were left there, thinking to yourself. This could change your entire life. You could decide not to go and forget that Tommy Miller ever existed or you could drive to that jail and maybe get the love of your life back.

Thirty minutes later, you were standing in front of the desk of the police station. You had bags under your eyes from how tired you were at waking up at the hour and you were nervous.

There was no right decision, just the one that you felt in your gut. As you stood there, looking between the phone and your car keys, you knew that there was only one decision you could make that would help you sleep at night.

You were a little bit embarrassed that you were at the station at 3:30 am, standing at the desk with your cardigan wrapped around you in the colder Texan weather in December.

The man looked up from the paper he was writing on the desk, looking you up and down before brushing his hand over his face and deciding to interact with you, “What do you want?”

The question was harsh and you were taken aback at his attitude. You looked around, that nervous feeling creeping up again before you took a deep breath, inhaling through your nose, “I’m here to uh, bail out a guy,” you stated, trying to sound confident.

The man hummed in response, calling one of the other officers over. He looked you up and down again before walking away, leaving you to stand at the desk alone. You were already nervous enough being here and now you were alone, the conversation having made you uncomfortable.

“You here to bail someone out?” The police officer asked, a kind smile on his face. He was a few years older than Tommy, maybe the same age as Joel and there were little crinkles in the corner of his eyes as he smiled.

You nodded, “Uh, Tommy Miller,” you stated.

The man chuckled to himself and you watched in confusion, you didn't know why it was so funny, maybe Tommy had done something really bad this time; you only had enough money to afford a small bail.

“Bails set at $100,” he stated and you nodded, reaching into the bag and pulling out a handful of crumpled up bills. You flicked through them, counting them under your breath before handing the man the correct amount, “Thank you ma’am,” he muttered, counting them himself before pocketing it, “Let me get him,”

He looked at your nervous demeanour and before he walked off, he turned back to you, trying to comfort you.

“First time?” He asked.

You scoffed, shaking your head, “Not at all,” you looked around the station, “First time here though,”

He nodded before walking away. You stood there in silence, leaning up against the wall, aimlessly reading some flyers that were pinned up on the opposite wall. You saw the mean officer from earlier standing by a water cooler, giving you a look before continuing with his business.

You picked at a loose thread on your jumper as you waited, anxious. You hadn’t seen or spoken to Tommy in two months and though you wouldn’t admit it, you missed him like crazy. You missed his rendition of American Pie in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning and the way he would laugh at your jokes even though they were not that funny.

As you waited for him to come out, your heart was racing. He could get mad again, he could still be drunk. But you weren't scared of him, you had never been scared of him because you knew he would never hurt you - even when he yelled at you that one time at a part, you weren't scared, just disappointed, angry.

The police officer walked back round the corner, offering you a small smile as he turned to someone who was still waiting behind the corner (you assumed it was Tommy).

He looked at Tommy, the awkward man ready to face the wrath of Joel - unsure how the man knew he was in jail again. Instead, the police officer stopped him, “You say sorry, and you win that girl back son. No girl i ever dated would’ve come for me at 4am in the morning,” he gestured round the corner and Tommy walked round.

He was shocked to see you standing there, fiddling with your hands nervously as you waited for him. Just the sight of you made his heart skip a beat, like he was a little kid seeing his crush on the playground again.

He whispered your name, chills going up your spine at the sound of his voice. You could feel the familiar feeling of hot burning of tears in the back of your eyes already just from looking at him.

“Let’s go,” you said, trying to hide the slight crack in your voice.

He nodded, following you outside. He couldn't take his eyes off of you, unable to believe that you had showed up for him. He didn't ask himself how you knew where he was or why yet, just following you to the car.

He sat in the passenger's seat, memories coming back to him. The car was where you had your first kiss together and he could see it now, all the memories. Your hand pressed against the fogged up windows and his lips on yours or your laugh at the drive in when he ordered the wrong thing.

Tommy looked over at you, those dark eyes meeting yours, “I’m sorry,” the words tumbled from his mouth before he could say anything else, before he could think of anything else.

“Don’t,” you started to say, knowing if he said anything else than you would break down, all those feelings you’ve been holding back would spill out.

“Baby, im sorry,” he shook his head, trying to hold back tears himself, “I shouldn’t have yelled,”

You looked away from him, a tear slipping down your cheek, “You have a problem Tommy,” you said, your voice timid; it was very unlike you.

“I know,” he admitted. It was the first time he had ever said that out loud. You turned to look at him, shocked by his confession and then more shocked by the tears that were streaming, “I-I know I needed to stop drinking then, and I've tried,” he shook his head, “But drinkings the only thing that gets the bullets in my head to stop,”

“Tommy,” you muttered, words getting stuck in your throat.

You loved the man in front of you and as you looked at him, you realised that you never stopped loving him, never. Not even when you were ignoring him, you still cared about him more than anyone else.

“Give me one more chance,” he begged, leaning forward into your space any other time you would have left now, annoyed at him.

You didn't want to leave. He was being so vulnerable with you, just like when he would wake up in the middle of the night screaming about the war. You reached a hand out, taking his.

He looked down at your mingled hands and shook his head, almost like he didn’t believe it was real. He looked back at your face and only now noticed that you were crying.

Tommy reached his free hand up, brushing one of the tears away. He left his hand there and you leant into the warmth of his palm, missing the feeling of his skin against yours.

“I love you,” he whispered, giving you a moment to allow the words to sink in.

“Okay,” you muttered, lip quivering as you looked at him, feeling his hand fall from your face.

You let go of his hand, bringing it up to his cheek and feeling the warmth of his skin against yours for the first time in so long. He looked down at your hand, manoeuvring himself slightly so that he could press a kiss against the delicate skin of your wrist, feeling your heart pounding underneath.

You felt a chill go down your spine at the feeling of his lips and you only just realised how much you truly missed his presence, “There’s always a space at mine for you,” you promised, “But I need you to stop drinking. Full sober,”

It was your one condition. There was to be no consumption of alcohol and to make it easier for him, you were ready to become a non-drinker as well. He knew how serious you were and nodded, knowing that he was not going to let anything one in between the two of you, not now and not ever again.

“I promise,” he mumbled, pressing another kiss to your wrist. He wrapped his hand around your wrist, bringing your knuckles to his lips, peppering kisses on your skin, “I promise, I promise,” he repeated over and over again like a prayer to you that he knew he wasn’t allowed to break.

You looked at him, at the tears that were starting to dry on his tanned skin and the way that his chest heaved with every breath he took. He was ready to let you become his drug, the central being that grounded him.

Whilst some days, Tommy was half the man that he used to be, whenever he was around you, he became the person that he had always wanted to be. You were the person he wanted to be just like, the woman that he knelt for and prayed for and loved more than anything else.

“I love you,” he whispered after the beats of silence.

You nodded, sniffling. You looked away from him for a second, your cheeks heating up, “Tommy,” for some reason, the words were heavy on your tongue and you didn't know how you were going to be able to say it, but when you did, it was easy, “I still love you,”

He let out a sob at the words, chest heaving. You had never seen him so vulnerable, so broken and so raw. It was like the man beneath was finally here and as you took his head in your hands, looking into his eyes, you knew you could never leave him.

“Come home with me,” you asked, your voice timid, almost as if you thought he would reject you. You knew he wouldn't, you knew the answer. You just wanted to hear him say it, “Come home,”

He nodded, his head, “Okay,”

You leaned in, so close that you could feel his nose brushing against yours, “Can I kiss you?” You whispered, so quiet only he could hear, almost as if you didn't want anyone else in the world to interrupt this moment. It was yours.

“Please,” the begging was unlike the usually confident Tommy and as you kissed him, all soft, you knew this was it for you, you could never love a man more than you loved Tommy miller.

[never-wednesday]

Hey its a Lil late in the month but this disability pride month I wanna talk about long covid. I also have chronic pain and all sorts of worms in my brain but I've been dealing with that forever. So we're talking about the new stuff. Putting a readmore because I'm talking about what my experience being sick with covid was like and it's probably unpleasant to read.

It's December of 2022 and I work retail while I'm home from school for winter break. I mask up every time I leave the house, including for work. My parents don't. My father talks about covid not being a big deal. He caught it last year and it was a mild cold for him. He says "i ate lunch with someone who had covid last week and im fine!" My mother catches covid a week after that conversation. I test and am seemingly fine despite symptoms of a cold, and then three days later (one of those days was a full 8hr shift at work where I was worn ragged because it's almost christmas. I also got heat exhaustion because the AC was busted and I live in TX.) I feel the worst I have felt in ages. My mom insists that my dad takes me to get tested for the flu, and I schedule a covid test while I'm at it. My covid test comes back positive.

For the next week I am bedbound, only able to sit up enough to try to eat something and only able to stand up long enough to get myself to and from the bathroom. I sleep through the days when I can get the dayquil down, and cough through the nights when I can't get the nyquil down. I hallucinate when im tired. One of those nights I swear I talk to god. My brain is fogged and it hurts to breathe. I am worried I will need to be hospitalized because I can't seem to keep any water in my system. It's a miracle that I can write instructions for my father to cook ramen for me. I can only drink the broth. One morning I try to take dayquil to soothe my throat and I vomit. My stomach is empty and I stand over the sink wretching.

It feels like a miracle when I recover. Christmas day my symptoms mostly clear up and I'm able to sit up long enough to use my computer, something I was unable to do for the past week. I test negative, my second best Christmas present that year. The first is the Elden Ring soundtrack on vinyl. I am elated that I made it put the other end.

A week later my friend comes from a few cities away to visit for a few days. We go shopping one afternoon, spend a few hours standing around at the local game store looking at dice and miniature plastic dragons. We get home at 6pm. I collapse into bed and wake up 3 hours later. I talk to my doctor about it in January, she says it should go away over time. Six months maximum.

I spend my spring semester exhausted. I start using a cane to make sure I can walk across campus. I'm thankful that many of my friends are also disabled because they understand when I need to ask people to slow down, or bail because of my fatigue. Many of the abled people in my life do not understand. One day I go out to a museum, a thing I am excited to do. When I get home at 4pm I make myself popcorn, then collapse into bed. I can't walk to the sink without my cane, I can barely get out of bed. This is what I have to adjust to.

Six months pass. The fatigue is not gone. I am home for summer break, and I try talking to my parents about my fatigue. They don't understand. I talk to my doctor. She is convinced it's depression symptoms. My mental health is largely the best it's been in years- I've been in treatment for months now and it is helping.

It's been about seven months now. I am not receiving treatment, nor will my doctor acknowledge that I have long covid. She has relented into testing for physical things. I got a CT scan, and have a sleep study scheduled for when I get back from visiting family in August. Depending on what these turn up and how my doctor reacts I am preparing to find a new doctor. I am not excited about this, because I like my doctor. But if she refuses to acknowledge that what has happened to me is likely covid and therefore will not treat me I will find someone else.

I don't really have a moral here beyond please mask up, get vaccinated, etc. Even if covid doesn't fuck you up it might fuck up someone you pass it to. Or even worse, it can kill the immunocompromised people around you. Please have compassion for the people around you. My father, who is a loving and caring man, brought this illness home to me. It wasn't out of malice, but it still has affected my life for probably the rest of my life.

[joe9cool]

Collide-Justin Herbert-38

This is all fanfiction purposes I do not own or know the Chargers. Thank you! Also TW: A tiny hint of reference to suicide.

"Baby I need to get on the plane." Justin moaned as he broke the kiss for a second before Sara pulled him back to her. They were parked on the upper level parking garage away from everyone. Locked in an intense makeout session for the past ten minutes, Justin still had another twenty minutes before he had to be in the terminal. Sara thought that was more than enough time for some activities.

While Justin was enjoying himself, he also was a little nervous. While he was more understanding of the paps, he didn't want photos of them making out published everywhere for everyone to see. Sara finally pulled away, but to work on his neck and her lips found his spot. "Sara what if we get caught.. oh god" He trailed off in a moan.

She laughed against his neck. "Baby, you really don't think these windows aren't tinted? We could fuck like we did after Bella's party and no one would know."

"Umm well the car would be rocking, someone would call the cops." Sara rolled her eyes. "You fucking nerd." He laughed. "I just don't want our first time to be in a car."

"Damn you're a virgin?" She joked.  He rolled his eyes. "You know what I mean." She laughed and kissed him. "I'll miss you." She pouted. "It's only for a week, then you will be back in California and I can hold you hostage in bed." Sara smiled, but Justin knew it wasn't her full smile. "What's wrong?"

"I guess that means I'm going to have to confront Erika?" He nodded. The past week Sara came to terms that Erika was no longer to be trusted, and that she would have to cut her off as a member of her team and a friend. Justin found her crying a couple of times in the night and comforted her. He couldn't imagine the level of betrayal she felt.

"I don't want you to be alone with her okay? I just don't trust her." She nodded. "Bella said the same thing. I'm surprised she hasn't flown out to LA to rip her head off." She laughed, remembering what her friend said when she told her the news.

It had been a hectic week since Mike was released from the hospital. He couldn't do the usual activities just yet, as he was confined to a wheelchair 24/7 the first few days. He could stand and walk around with therapy, but he got winded easily, as the physical therapist told him it would take months to be back to his old self.

In a video meeting with his board and colleagues. Mike announced his retirement, saying this was his second chance to enjoy the rest of his life. The board was in shambles. A few, including Barry, supported the decision. The thirty seven years Mike put into the company were some of the toughest, craziest, hectic known to man but Michael Wozniak was going to leave on a high note.

It seemed he was enjoying his time off. Trying to do as much as he could in his condition. Justin and Sara would go by the house after he had his therapy and spend time with the family. While Mike and Sara's relationship wasn't perfect, it was on the mend. As for Willa she was on bail waiting to go before a judge. The family blocked her number, and thanks to the restraining order that her team put in place she wasn't allowed to go near her.

Unfortunately, The Chargers wanted Justin back in Los Angeles. Contract negotiations and they wanted to be rehab by their trainers. He decided to go back reluctantly, and thanked the Pittsburgh trainers for everything.

Justin was disappointed in going back. He didn't get to spend too much alone time with Sara. Between running back and forth with Mike, everyone attempts to go back to their normal routine, they were constantly on the run.

"Your family is great but wow. You were right, they are tiring." He told her one night as she was getting ready for bed. Snuggling up to him, she hummed. "Yeah, and when my parents were working and all the sports my sisters were in. Constant running around, probably why I spent so much time in my room. It gave me peace and quiet." She laughed and Justin smiled.

Lost in the memories, Justin looked down at his watch. "Okay, I got to go." She nodded and kissed him. "Call me when you land. I love you."

"I love you, tell Charlie I'm sorry for missing his party." Sara would be staying in Pittsburgh for another week for her nephews birthday. He was disappointed that Justin couldn't make it. But he understood from an early age about work. One of the things Mike promised to make up for. "My dad has a lot of lost time to make up for, not just me but for his grandkids." She told Justin.

Once he was situated on the plane, he let his mind wander off. Sara grew up a lot differently than him. While his family was middle class, they were close and would never put work above each other. Her family had tons of money, and to some degree they were close, but they had all been affected by the mistakes Mike and Cathy made. That much was evident when she took him on a tour of the large childhood home she grew up in. She told him how many nights she cried on the balcony when her parents fought, when they missed shows of hers. How guilty she felt crying over this when her classmates like Erika were struggling and she had everything at her fingertips.

"I always felt like a failure. All of the parties we had here, everytime people would look at me and say, "Oh Mike, she's going to be the one living with you til she's 30 with that silly little dream of hers. Where did you go wrong with this one?"

"I can only imagine how hurtful that was hearing that." She looked at him. "If we have children, I will not allow anyone to talk about them like that." He nodded. "I agree."

He couldn't imagine having your own friend's and family as your worst critic. His family had always expressed their support, even when things didn't go their way. His only criticism came from scouting and the NFL analysts. Even then, he had support from friends and family. She told him. "I couldn't love myself out of my world shitting on me."

He fell asleep on the rest of the plane ride. He landed in Los Angeles where Mike was waiting for him. As much as he was happy to be with his girlfriend on the east coast he missed Los Angeles. He was ready to get back to football. Justin kept up with the news and knew the guys they gained and lost. Losing Drew hurt alot, especially to Kansas City but that was business. Getting off the plane, he spotted his wide receiver with a big smile on his face. After doing their bro hug they went to Mike's car making small conversation. It wasn't until they got into Mike's car that the questions came.

"So you and Sara are good?" Justin smiled and nodded. "Aye! That's my boy, finally got your head out of your ass." He slapped his hand on Justin's shoulder as they hit the Los Angeles traffic. Justin didn't miss this. He laughed before turning serious, Mike was one of his best friends on the team and wouldn't tell a soul. "We know who the leak is."

Mike didn't take his eyes off the road. "Oh yeah who?"

"Her best friend slash assistant Erika." Mike did take his eyes off the road for that news. "No way, the redhead that always has a pout on her face?" Justin nodded. "She has access to Sara's phone, and we recognized the pictures of us at a party. Erika took those, and she was tagged at the photographers dinner."

"How's Sara handling it?"

"She's hurt, and feels violated. She doesn't understand why she would do this. It isn't a money issue, she's helped her and her family with money. I just don't understand why she would betray her like that."

"Well they live together? How is that going to work."

Justin shrugged. "She is going to have a legal team draw up a NDA and some other stuff. We can't trust her, she's going to go to the press no matter what we say and try to spin the narrative."

"And how are you dealing with this? I know you are so concerned about your privacy."

"I love Sara, and we are a team. Our relationship isn't a secret, but it's going to be private. We aren't going to be posting each other constantly. Little glimpses and stuff." Justin smiled as he thought about what he and Sara talked about. "Sort of like a Taylor swift and Joe Alwyn thing."

Mike smiled. "I know nothing about that, but I'm glad you figured everything out. You guys work so well together."

There was silence for a bit until Mike spoke again. "I'm sorry, I have to ask, what is going to happen with Taylor? She's been at the stadium asking questions."

Justin rolled his eyes. He went into the whole story about Taylor lying to Sara and the pictures she used. Mike was in awe. "Wow, I knew she was insane, but to go that far."

"I don't even know what I should even say to her. I don't want her around me and especially Sara. But she works for the damn network. I'm going to have to deal with her once camp starts."

Justin pondered over his options and talked with Mike about upcoming workouts and team meetings. The fact that Kansas City won the superbowl just made the team more determined.

Mike and Justin pulled up to his place in Irvine. It was nice to be home, it would be even nicer if his girlfriend agreed to move in with him. She hadn't given him a sure answer yet.

Once Mike left, he walked around imagining all of the feminine touches Sara would bring to his place. He looked over at the cat wheel that Nova got for Christmas. He texted Pat that he was home and was free to fly out with Carly and bring Nova home. He remembered she also got a Bengal cat; he wasn't sure how Nova would react to Eugene. Maybe in some way the name of the cat was a sign that they were always meant to be.

As he walked around the almost empty house, he made a list of food and household essentials he needed. He was almost gone for a month and a half and he needed a lot of things. Also he wanted to prepare for Sara's arrival. As he went through his closet to grab his laundry basket he found the calander she made him. He grabbed and began looking through it. When they broke up he forgot to give it back, and he didn't just want to throw it out in case it landed in the wrong hands. He wasn't that much of an ass.

He found himself getting hard as he flipped through it, and as much as he wanted to give into his desires, he wanted to wait until he had the real thing.

He got out his phone and messaged her

I'm home, found your calendar.

A few seconds later he heard a ding

I'm glad you have it. I have a gyno appointment tomorrow. I'm going on the shot. It takes two weeks

He groaned. I'm about to say fuck it and risk our chances. I'm going to get you pregnant one day.

Lmfaooo. One DAY. Right now it's fuck them kids.

A photo was attached and he opened it expecting a sexy image. But instead it was a selfie with spit up on her shirt.

Wow that killed the mood 😂 let me guess Kenzie with her reflux?

Yes, lucky she's turning one tomorrow and she's cute.

He laughed. He couldn't deny seeing Sara interact with her nieces and nephew's got him in major baby fever. Justin remembered the dream he had very early on in their relationship. He had a wedding band on his finger and she had a band with a swollen belly. Fuck

Patrick texted that he and Carly would be in the next morning with Nova in tow. On that note he decided to call it an early evening and just watch some television. He could do all of his errands tomorrow.

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

Sara wasn't sure whether she wanted to scream or cry.

She was facetiming Erika who didn't have the slightest idea of her best friend's knowledge of her betrayal. The red head updated her on the cat, some dates she went on.

"I'm glad Erika. So I should be in town next week." Her friend's smile dropped. "With Justin?"

"Well he's in Los Angeles already so no." She knew what Erika meant, she didn't want to say it out loud.

"But you guys are back together?"

"We're working on it." Erika rolled her eyes. "Seriously? What about Harry?"

"Ill talk to him when I get back. But I don't think he's too upset. He was making out with Emily Ratajkowski. That's not a guy serious about getting married."

"Well you can't keep him waiting forever." Sara wanted to scream. Why because you need to report back to Jack?

"Look, I'll take care of him when I get back. Just keep doing what you are doing. I'll be back next week."

"Okay. Hey, maybe we can have a spa day. AnnSophie will be back in town, and you have some break before Filming the show starts."

Sara nodded. "Yes I will see if I can fit it in." She hung up on Erika. If she stayed on the phone any longer guaranteed there would be a fight, and she wanted to confront her face to face and not alone.

She tried to push the thoughts out of her head. She had to help Alyssa prepare for Kenzie's small first birthday. This was due to Mike and being careful that he didn't get sick. Same with Charlie, Mike and Sara were only attending the family party, but not for the party with school friends. She did it last year and had to leave, as all of the parents kept coming up to her and asking for autographs and photos.

She was tasked with picking up the cake and some last minute decorations. They had to switch to some healthier options for food since their dad came home. It was funny, of all things he was upset about food was the last thing they thought would cause a problem. Granted, their dad drank and smoked Cigars, but he enjoyed a home cooked meal, and her mother always sent him leftovers which were mostly healthy options.

She ran all of the requested errands and drove back to her sister and Brother in law's Pennsylvania home. Upon arriving she saw Ryan and Michelle, as well as Brent's parents. After giving them greetings Mrs. Smith spoke. "Oh hunny, is it true you have a man in your life? Alyssa told me you are seeing a fine young man."

Sara smiled. "The rumors are true. I'm seeing someone." Mrs. Smith pulled her into a big hug. "Oh that's wonderful! Is he still here?"

"No, he had to go back to Los Angeles."

Pretty soon everyone's attention was on setting the decorations up so Alyssa didn't have to stress herself out the next day. As Sara was working on the Balloon arch Michelle came up to her. "Need help with that?"

Sara laughed. "Please. I should have just paid for someone to set this up." Michelle laughed as she started to help blowing up the pink balloons on the machine. Once she finished five she looked at Sara. "How many do we have to blow up?"

Standing on the ladder working on the arch, she looked around. "Well I did fifteen so far and with your five. It looks like we got about fifty more at least." Michelle groaned and Sara laughed. "Yeah when Justin and I have kids, remind me not to do this, no matter how cute the final product looks."

Michelle paused, thinking of what her sister in law just said. "So you think this is it?"

Sara stopped assorting the colors and looked down at Michelle. "What do you mean?"

"I mean you've never talked about having kids before. You said you wanted them before but you never brought up a name with it." Michelle smiled, and Sara matched it. "Yeah, I know this is crazy, I mean god we haven't even been together for a full year but I'm in love with him. It's just a feeling I've never felt before. The first thing I want to see when I wake up is his face, or hear his voice. When he calls me baby it's just the greatest thing. I know we had a bump but I feel sure that he feels the same way about me."

"I was talking to George and Brent. Brent really likes Justin. He's very protective of you, since he views you as a sister." Sara playfully rolled her eyes. "Well he is the pain in the ass older brother that I never had." Michelle laughed before speaking.

"We are all so happy for you Sara, you deserve it. There is nothing more beautiful than seeing someone unlucky in love finally being loved by the right person." Sara had tears come to her eyes. "Stop, I'm gonna cry." They giggled. "So I have to ask. Is this the end of all of the endings?"

Sara laughed at the Swift song reference. Sara thought about it, but not for long.

"Yes it is."

—----‐—-----------------------------------------------------------

"Taylor!"

The blonde reporter turned around and lit up when she saw the tall quarterback; however she quickly realized that he wasn't approaching her with good intentions. With his long strides he was caught up to her in no time. "We need to talk."

"You can come into my office." They went silently into a private room where she closed the door. Turning towards him, she maintained her smile. "Hi! How is your off-season going?"

He didn't meet her smile. "What did you say to Sara?" He knew, but he wanted to hear it from her mouth, and wanted to see if she'd lie.

Of course she chose the latter. "What are you talking about?"

"I know you ran into her, and I know what you said. Why on earth would you lie about that?"

She turned her back towards him and didn't say anything for several seconds. "Why her?"

He was confused, not expecting that response. "Huh?"

She turned towards him. "The entire time we were together you were so adamant about us being secretive. Hell when someone posted they saw us out you freaked out and didn't talk to me for a week. You stood me up at the airport because it looked too crowded. Now this girl you've been seeing less than a year comes along and you're all about flaunting this relationship? Why wasn't I good enough?"

Justin understood what she meant. He acknowledged that he wasn't the greatest partner, and even though he and Taylor were just hooking up, there were moments where he acted and treated her like shit. He sighed. "I'm sorry, I know that I wasn't the greatest person to you, and for that I regret. But Sara… I'm in love with her, and I should have told you about her when things started to get serious. I'm not flaunting this relationship. I'm just being normal for the first time in my life."

"But again. Why her? She's the total opposite of you. She isn't going to stop her career for you. You guys are going to be Tom and Gisele 2.0"

He shook his head. "I don't need to explain anything to you. What you did was wrong and uncalled for. I don't understand how you thought that was going to benefit you, you do realize me or Sara could have gotten you fired!"

Taylor shook her head. "So that's it? You love her." Justin nodded. Taylor rolled her eyes and opened the door. "Get out."

He walked out the door but he turned to look at her. "I hope that we can be professional."

She waved her hand "yeah, you're not worth my career." He went to leave again.

"Justin?"

"Yes?"

"When you and Sara fail. Don't come looking for me, cause I won't be here." She shut the door

He laughed

—--------------------------------------------------------‐—-----------

"What do you mean it's going to be another week before i see you?" Justin groaned. He was in bed with Nova while on the phone with Sara. Her flight was supposed to arrive the next day. He was looking forward to seeing her after a week but now she had other plans.

She told him that her manager needed her to make a couple of appearances in New York and Vegas. Selena Gomez was hosting a party for some product launch, then Bella was having an event for her drink, then she was filming an episode of hot ones.

Basically it would be another week before he saw her.

"I'm not happy about it either. I promise I'll take the first private flight home once filming has wrapped up, then I have a whole month off before the show starts filming. I'm all yours."

"We are not leaving my bedroom for days when you get here." He heard her giggle at that. "I'm serious."

"I know you are, baby. Trust me I'm going to need it."

It was silent before Justin spoke. "Is Erika going to be with you?"

"No, she's still at my house. I don't trust myself to not say something, and I don't need an issue."

"So you're going to confront her when you get home?"

She nodded, then realized that he couldn't see her over the phone. "Yes. I don't even know what to say to her. I'm getting nervous to the point of a panic attack just thinking about it."

"Hey hey hey." He witnessed her have a panic attack once, and it hurt him to see her go through that. "Listen, we will do this together. I'll be there when you do."

"I needed that."

—-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Sara! I'm so glad you came!" Selena hugged her and greeted Alex. They had just arrived at the hotel only hours after getting off the plane to the big apple. Sara was immediately rushed into hair and makeup. Her team made a tiktok of her getting ready with rare beauty products and of course Sara was dubbed as a 'Queen' for being team Selena and there was excitement that she would be there.

Sara had a fun time, she met and took photos and videos with influencers and fans. It was the end of the night and her social battery was fading. She was having a glass of champagne with a couple of social media stars. To be honest, she didn't really view them as stars. They really didn't have any talents, or really worked hard or faced rejection. They were just pretty and turned on a camera. She felt bad saying that, but so far while some were nice, the ones she was speaking to gave off a bad, fake vibe.

"So Sara, what can you tell us about this upcoming season?" One of the guys said. All eyes turned to her, eager to see if she would reveal any spoilers.

She thought about it for a moment, wanting to give fans something, but not trying to reveal too much. Finally she said, with a sly smile on her face "Just expect the unexpected."

They all groaned, knowing that was all they were going to get from the star. The event ended at around midnight, and Sara and Selena went to a really late dinner to catch up on things. They spoke about their relationships and the drama with the Jenners and Kardashians. It was nice catching up with her, but eventually Sara had to leave to catch another flight to Vegas for Bella's party. AnnSophie was going to be there as well as Samira, so at least she wouldn't only know one person.

She was messaging Justin back and forth the next day. She was again back in hair and makeup with her friends before the car came. AnnSophie and Bella were filling her in on the Met Gala. "I wish you were there. It was so much fun." Sara wished that she could have attended the first Met, but her family was more important. "Yes, but there is always next year."

"Don't let Anna hear that. This is a prestigious event. If she heard you say that, you would probably be banned from attending." Sara had to roll her eyes at that. It was funny, when she was younger it was all about the exposure and trying to attend all of these high profile events. Now she didn't care, she just wanted to act and be left alone.

They took silly photos and tik tok videos before heading down to the car to go to the party. Outside there were paps everywhere. Kendall Jenner was there and Sara rolled her eyes, it was no secret that the tall model would go out of her way to be nasty to her. Kendall even tried to throw shade at Sara on instagram a few years ago. No one pointed it out until Kylie got dragged for the whole Selena fiasco.

"Sara!" She turned towards the voice and her eyebrows lifted in surprise as she saw the woman in question heading towards her. Photographers clicked away as Kendall threw her arms around her. She was sure the photographers caught her being stunned at the action. Surely it was going to be a hot topic the next day. "How are you? It's so nice to see you!"

As much as Sara wanted to say something nasty to Kendall, she didn't want to cause a fight at her best friend's party so she remained neutral. "I'm doing well, how about yourself?"

Kendall smiled. "Oh good, you know I've been preoccupied with Benito." The way she couldn't even pronounce the Spanish name. "Oh it's been so long since we caught up! Next time we are in town, you and Justin should double date with us!"

Sara smiled tightly. "Yeah, we will see. Our schedules are both busy."

"Sara!" She turned her head to see AnnSophie waving her down. "Oh look I got to go. It was nice talking with you!" She quickly walked away and joined her friends, who had a questioning look on their faces. She explained the story and everyone had the same conclusion. She was doing it to save face in the public eye. It was no secret that their reputation  took a nosedive.

Once again, she found herself at a really late dinner with Bella after everything wrapped up. They were filling each other in on everything that happened in each other's lives. When Sara was done telling Bella about everything that happened with Justin she saw a smile on her friends face.

"Sara, I'm so happy for you. I'll admit that I had a lot of doubts about Justin. But he really grew up, and he did grow on me. He's not a stone cold Herman munster like I originally said." Sara snorted, remembering the first time the model gave him the moniker. "He really does love you, and that's all I ask from him, and that he doesn't hurt you again, otherwise I can't promise I wouldn't kick his ass."

Sara laughed. "I'm trying to imagine you taking him." Bella laughed. "Hey we kickbox you know. Also I'd enlist Gigi and AnnSophie."

Sara giggled again. "Yeah he could enlist Bosa and we'd be all fucked" Bella smiled into her drink. "Yeah but that Bosa wants to fight AnnSophie another way if you catch my drift." Sara nearly spit out her drink and the girls both combusted in a fit of giggles. "Hey If I'm ever single can you hook me up with Garoppolo?"

Sara rolled her eyes. "Oh please."

—--------------------------------------------------------------------

For some reason, it was like the universe hated Justin and Sara.

By the time she got back to Los Angeles he was gone in Eugene. He had a wedding to attend that he totally forgot about. He felt bad because it was one of his closest friends, after the wedding he had to be on a plane to New Jersey to attend a signing at a sporting expo with Derwin.

She got off the plane, not telling Erika that she was back home, however her best friend and employee wasn't  stupid. The show was starting pre production and there were meetings. Sara spent her time at Justin's house rehearsing her lines, or went over to her co-star's house.

Finally after a week, she knew it was time to face the music. AnnSophie volunteered to be with her. Joey was back in Fort Lauderdale for a few weeks and Lexi's dad finally made time in his "super busy" calendar to spend time with his child.

As they pulled up to her house, AnnSophie could tell Sara was nervous. Her breath and her hands were so shaky she couldn't even drive. Grabbing her hand she rubbed it, hoping to calm her down a little bit. "Hey, it's going to be okay. She will know she is in the wrong." She nodded. "I just wish Justin was here, but I can't avoid her forever.  We've closed the chapters of our pasts. I need to close this one."

They both got out of the car, each grabbing one of Sara's bags. Taking one last deep breath they entered the house. Eugene ran towards them, and despite Sara's hurt and anger she couldn't help but melt at the sight of the gray Bengal.  "Hi baby." She cooed as she picked him up, pecking his face with kisses and she cuddled him. "I missed you so much. I'm sorry mommy had to leave you." She looked around while still carrying the cat. She turned towards the blonde supermodel. "She's not here." She took a deep breath, relieved that she still had some time to prepare a speech.

As she put everything away she messaged her sisters. They knew what was going on, and even unfriended Erika on all the platforms, surprisingly she never mentioned it on the phone.

Once she was done and clothes were in the washer she heard AnnSophie call her name. Walking over to her friend's voice in the kitchen she found AnnSophie starring with her mouth open in shock. Erika's work laptop that Sara bought her was open. That must have meant she ran out for a quick errand or food. She never left it open and unattended.

It happened in slow motion, AnnSophie turned the laptop around to face her. The first thing she saw was a document.

It was a medical document.

It was a record of a hospitalization

Sara's hospitalization in 2011 of her attempt.

A/N: Alright, just a smidge of drama one last time! Getting down to final chapters! Thank you to everyone who messaged me and read and stayed with me

[thisisarcanereverie]

Something 'Bout You (BIKER! Natasha Romanoff x Reader)

A/N: Hey once again sorry for the delay, I know I've been gone a while school and all. But here's the next chapter.

COMPLETE MASTERLIST

MARVEL MASTERLIST

NATASHA ROMANOFF MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

Two months passed and since then nights with Nat had become routine. Once maybe twice a week the red head would come to your place and you would take turns on ordering and drinks.

Usually Nat stuck with pizza, wings, and beer while your usual would be Chinese food and soda.

Sometimes the night would go on with Nat fixing a few things here and there while you sit there and obviously subtly admire the way her tattoos moved.

However, most nights consisted of sitting on your couch watching netflix. Recently you had started the Witcher with her. She had picked it one night and hasn't stopped watching it since. You had offered to give her your password so she could watch it on her own, but she refused.

"I started it with you and I'm ending it with you."

You didn't have the heart to tell her you already binged watched the entire thing.

Through those nights you both had become closer, you learned more and more about her as she slowly opened up. Like how Clint and her had met, how Nick bailed her out of trouble more than once. How she met Toni and funny stories about Yelena.

Despite her opening up more, you could still feel that bit of distance between you. It was small, but it was still there.

It didn't help that as time flew and the closer you got to her, the more those pesky feelings of yours got in the way. The way Natasha lit up each room she was in, how seeing her improved your mood, how easy it was to relax and laugh around her. You started wanting to hold her hand and to go out some nights instead of in, dance with her, and kiss her.

You knew you had to back away, create some distance and some boundaries for yourself. You wanted her, but you knew you couldn't. Your friendship mattered too much, it was fine the way it was and you shouldn't go ruining that.

It also didn't help that on the nights she wasn't with you she was always with someone else, always inviting them back to hers for the night only to leave early in the morning before she goes on her run.

You were lost in thought behind the counter, staring aimlessly at the register in front of you. You didn't even hear the door opening or the click of heels against the floor making their way towards you.

"Earth to (Y/n)," a voice broke through your thoughts as you looked up from the register and to a familiar brunette.

"Sorry Maria," You apologized.

"How long were you up last night?" Maria asks concern showing on her pretty features, "you look like you haven't slept in a while."

"It's just stress," You say, "the order for that book has been pushed by a week again and I need it by friday, so I was looking for other options. And then the power went out last night and all the food I had in the fridge went bad so now I have to go grocery shopping after work, I also have to plan Wanda's bachelorette party and make some time to go dress shopping with Wanda, and-"

"It sounds to me like you need a night of fun." Maria observed leaning a little closer, "it also sounds like you need a stress reliever." She winks and you blush, "I'll pick you up at seven and wear something nice."

And with that Maria was gone. You stood there a couple of seconds processing what had just happened, the Maria Hill best lawyer in the county had just offered to be a stress reliever. You shake your head trying not to get ahead of yourself, as well as shake the slight guilty feeling you have.

The guilt got worse as Nat came in. Her eyes landed immediately on you behind the counter and a smile stretched her face.

"Hey Nancy Drew," She started, "so tonight I was thinking maybe cheeseburgers instead of pizza? There's a place I wanted to check out for a while now and Yelena says it's good so-" Nat pauses. Taking in your appearance, your face was flushed and you were wringing your hands nervously.

"What's wrong?" Nat asked. You take a deep breath before responding evenly.

"I can't do it tonight." You said.

"oh," Nat said, masking her disappointment, "ok, um, did something come up?"

"uh, yeah, actually," you started, "it's a really funny story actually but um I guess long story short, Maria Hill just asked me out tonight."

You tried to read Natasha, however her face was still, not showing any emotions beyond what she wanted you to see. There was a pause that seemed to stretch forever until Natasha broke the silence.

"That's great." She said a small smile gracing her features. "Maria Hill, she's a lawyer right?" you nod, "that's great. I think I remember her from school actually, she went to the public school around here with us right?" You nod again slightly confused on where she was going with this, "yeah, I mean I'm sure she's changed since then so the date should go great."

"What do you mean by that?" You asked, one hand on your hip as you stand.

"Mean by what?"

"By you're sure 'she's changed so the date should go great'."

"Well I mean, last I checked she was a total bitch. But I don't know I haven't seen her in years so maybe she's changed." Nat shrugged.

"I thought you were friends with her in school?"

"yeah and then she put gum in my hair causing me to cut it." Nat explained, "but you know blessing in disguise cause I look really good with shoulder length hair. Less hassle to maintain."

"Well a lot can happen in a few years."

"Apparently." Nat said before leaving the store leaving you confused and a little hurt. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, you knew this is what had to be done. Distance. You had to distance yourself from her for a bit. This date was a perfect way to get over lingering romantic feelings for her and to have some fun. It's going to be fun.

So why do you feel so bad?

[stevetonyweekly]

SteveTony Weekly - May 2

I know I say every week that I read a lot this week but I have been indulging in my favorite coping technique and so this list is ridiculously long. Twitter encouraged me. Blame them. 

**Indicates my recent favs 

~*~ 

On the inherent homoeroticism of cake decoration by welcoming_disaster (616/8K)

“She’s matchmaking, Barton,” Carol sighed.

“We,” Thor corrected, thumping himself hard in the chest, “art matchmaking.”

“Who, Cap n’ Tony?” Clint asked, his mouth full.

“Cap and Tony,” Janet confirmed, cutting herself a thin slice of egg and gently depositing it on her whole grain avocado toast, “it’s getting ridiculous.”

“Wait, I thought they were—“ Clint frowned, glancing around the room as though to confirm. Nothing but confused faces met his questioning gaze. “Huh. I really thought they were fucking.”

“And there is the crux of the issue,” Jess licked a bit of spaghetti sauce off her lip.

“Aye,” agreed Thor, “there’s rub.”

-----------

The team tries to set up Steve and Tony. Things don't go as planned.

Baby lovers like you and me (never say die) by FestiveFerret (Old Guard AU/7.5K)

The Avengers. They'd found him frozen in the ice, told him he was immortal, of all things. And with the way he'd lived through seventy years deep in the Atlantic, he found himself inclined to believe them. They'd also been very… convincing.

Without question, they integrated him into their unit - The Avengers, a secret team of unkillables seeking wrongs around the world and making them right, supported and housed by an enigmatic billionaire named Tony Stark. Their immortality, it seemed, was a secret to everyone but him.

Ready, set, bake by ChocolateCapCookie (Great British Bake Off/11k) 

The Avengers are on a nationally televised baking competition, but nobody seems to have warned the producers that the Avengers, while they save the world everyday and put their loves at risk doing so, are a) insanely competitive, and b) absolutely terrible bakers. Steve Rogers, especially, has a competitive streak a mile wide, and he's determined to win this competition, but it's not easy when his only real opponent is also the man he's been in love with for years.

***To make flowers grow (in this barren heart) by SoldiersShield, KakushiMiko (Hanahaki AU/16K) 

“You hide yourself away in your technology, but you are just as human as the rest of them. Your heart betrays your desire to possess.” Her gaze falls to the arc reactor, and Tony's blood runs cold in his veins.

“The Earth will reclaim what we have lost,” she says, dragging a hand over the chestplate of the armor. “It is you, and your kind-- your greed that pulls life from the soil as if it were nothing. You will reap what you have sown, Stark. The avarice in your heart will strangle the very life out of you.” Arna meets his eyes once more, a serene smile on her face as she leans forward.

“I hope he is worth dying for,” she murmurs, before digging her hand into his ribcage.

(Tony Stark falls in love with Steve Rogers. A rogue enchantress ensures he pays for it.)

Shelter from the storm by silkspectred (KidFic/5k) 

Tony adopts a baby. Guess who's Majorly Fucked Up™ about it.

Keep on beating by itsallAvengers (Domestic Fluff/6K) 

There were an awful lot of things Steve loved about Tony. But one thing in particular Steve could never get enough of was his heartbeat.

The good or bad thing by petreparkour (Multiverse/10k) 

 “It’s the metal suit,” Thor informed Steve, his normally-booming voice tinny over the SHIELD comms. “What did Stark call it—Iron Man?”

“But he’s down here,” Steve protested as the Hulk roared in Stark’s face, startling him into waking with a shout. “How could—”

“It’s damaged,” Thor reported. “But it looks different. More advanced. And he—ah. He’s carrying you, Captain.”

“Please tell me nobody kissed me,” Stark breathed out, and then Stark’s voice suddenly came over the comms, but the man lying next to him hadn’t moved.

“Guys, come on, you’re killing me here. What is it, 2012? God, I hate time travel. First, I'm fighting Thanos. Now, I have to deal with my past self and Thor's bad haircut? Oh my God, Cap, yes I hacked their comms, they’re my comms.”

Steve nearly opened his mouth to protest that he hadn’t said anything when he realized that this replica of Tony Stark wasn’t speaking to him.

***The tipping point by nightwalker (Domestic Fluff/7K) 

Tony has a few quirks. Steve's still trying to figure them all out.

We two, how long we were fool’d by glassessay (Soulmate AU/9K) 

Steve Rogers comes into the world as unblemished as his mother. When Anthony Stark is born, his soulmark is an obvious pattern of ink across his tiny chest.

It only takes a century, two names, and a shared love of Walt Whitman for them to find each other.

The tape in the cave by betheflame (Canon Divergent/5K) 

Steve had no idea what was happening.

“You think I didn’t know that?”

Tony was staring Zemo down as though the Sokovian was actual vermin - which, Steve reflected, he kind of was.

“You think that I,” Tony continued, not hiding the sneer in his voice, “Anthony Stark, who has more powerful technology in my literal fingers than most nations have, that I wouldn’t know everything possible about how my parents died? That I wouldn’t know it wasn’t an accident, that your silly little HYDRA Nazi knock-off pals are the ones who murdered them? Please, you are pathetic.”

Happy ending by Robin_tCJ (No-Powers AU/28K) 

 Steve is a mobile massage therapist, and Tony is a stressed billionaire. What could go wrong?

With a decent happiness by torigates (Teacher AU/16K) 

Tony Stark is Iron Man. Steve Rogers isn't, and never was Captain America.

Or, the one where everything is the same except Steve is a kindergarten teacher.

Nothing left but scars by SailorChibi (MCU/6.7K) - Reread

Steve wakes up to the fact that no one ever compliments or even says thank you to Tony, and that he has fallen into the same trap of painting Tony with a specific paintbrush.

This is how he showers a very confused Tony with praise to make up for it.

Our hearts should remember and follow by frostfall (MCU/5K) 

Steve hums. “I didn’t know you could play. Or sing. Don’t think I’ve heard anyone mention it before.”

Tony shrugs. “It’s one of the few things, skills, I don’t flaunt. Not something people are interested in, anyway. Not gonna sway any board members by playing fucking Für Elise for them. Sides’, there’s a high chance I wouldn’t even play. Well, maybe if you get me drunk enough and near an instrument. Then, I might reconsider.”

(After a dream leaves Tony rattled, he turns to the piano as a way to distract himself.)

Finally, you and me by pensversusswords (Multiverse/10K) 

Because in every layer of time, in every conceivable dimension, he was always meant to love Steve.

By some miracle, Steve was meant to love him back.

***Full disclosure not required (but appreciated) by Potrix (Identity Porn/16k) 

The one where Steve knows more than he lets on, Tony knows less than he pretends, Clint has a big mouth, Bucky is a little shit, and everyone learns why keeping secrets never ends well.

Almost never, anyway.

Heartlines by nanasekei (MCU/7.9K) 

“Let me,” Tony repeats. He regrets it deeply, so much, he wants to stick the words back into his mouth again, and it must show, in the way his voice wavers. He feels exposed, all of a sudden, as if he’s asking something bigger than what he can actually say. Let me touch you, let me take care of you. “Just… Let me do it.”

i found a way to let you in, but i never really had a doubt (marriage series) by quidhitch (Marriage Series/16k) 

Tony Stark doesn’t believe in marriage. It’s nobody’s fault. —Well, it’s Howard's fault, probably, but Tony doesn’t like to think about that for too long, finds that it dredges up all sorts of issues he’d rather keep buried under a mountain of strategically employed sarcasm, humorous self-deprecation, and the occasionally effective substance abuse.

***Hide your love away by sineala (Soulmate/33K) - Reread

Tony has suspected for a long time that the soulmark on his chest matches Steve's -- but he's never told Steve about it. And then it's too late to tell Steve anything at all ever again. In the wake of Steve's death, the Skrull invasion, and Norman Osborn's rise to power, the identity of his soulmate is just one of the many things Tony cuts out of his memory forever.

When Tony returns to consciousness, he's forced to deal with the aftermath of a war he no longer remembers fighting, not to mention a Steve Rogers who can barely stand to be in the same room with him. Surely the last thing Tony could ever need in his life is more amnesia. But that's what he gets. And Tony's new missing memory just might be the key to finding out the truth of his soulmark... as well as his chance to make things right once and for all.

Break the chain (can’t live in circles again) by orphan_account (FWB/19K) 

There had been seven amazing weeks of dating Steve Rogers before Tony realised that they weren’t dating at all. And then it was a scramble to adjust to the situation as it had always been: being Steve’s friend-with-benefits.

And if Steve seemed a little confused and bewildered by the way Tony was acting, well. Tony was probably just misreading that, too.

Five times steve and tony (tried to) bail each other out of jail by Teyke (MCU/6k) 

Twice before Civil War, twice after, and once during. For very loose definitions of both 'bail' and 'jail'.

Cracked hearts under iron ribs by XtaticPearl (Established Relationship/14k)

Rhodey is away for almost six months now and comes to meet Tony after the mission. He doesn't understand the domesticity of the whole Tower and unknowingly sets off a whole truck of insecurities which make Tony crawl back into being a Stark instead of just Tony. The team is not at all happy and Rhodey joins them in trying to figure out a way to help their resident genius feel better in his skin.

The single biggest problem with communication by BlossomsintheMist (616/108K)

In the wake of Steve's return from the dead and the end of Norman Osborn's reign of terror, the superhero community is recovering--Steve has taken on a new role and Tony is trying to put his life back together. Things are still awkward between them, but they're determined to put things to rights. But when a discussion about their feelings leads to further misunderstandings, they discover that might be more difficult than either of them realized. Set in the early Heroic Age after the end of Dark Reign, this is a get-together story about crossed wires--and second chances.

What are friends for? by bobertsmallismydad (MCU /2.8K) 

In which Steve is targeted by a virus. Will the Avengers be able to save him in time?

Starving by festiveferret (Vampire AU/2K) 

Steve woke up starving.

***Everybody wonders (What it would be like to love you) by SoldiersShield (MCU/3K) 

“...Is that what this is about?” He asks slowly. Steve blanches.

“Oh my god. It is.” Tony has no right looking as giddy as he does. “Steven Grant Rogers, are you jealous?”

--

Or: Steve and Tony have been dancing around each other for a while now, and Steve's rather content with it. Attending a gala together just might change that.

Re(A)d all over by brandnewfashion, MusicalLuna (Drunk Flirting/3k) 

Contrary to popular belief, Tony Stark can blush.

It just takes Steve getting drunk on some magical Asgardian mead for it to finally happen.

***The Do-over Proposal by nightwalker (Established Relationship/1.2k) 

Steve wants to go on a journey, Tony doesn't think it's a good time, and Bucky needs to beat some sense into both these idiots.

A Winter’s Ball by alliejowrites (Victorian AU/3.8K) 

Steve moves to London in search of a patron, so that he can finally devote himself to painting. He is not expecting everything he finds upon meeting Lord Stark. A fluffy little Victorian AU. One-shot.

What’s a fanfic by starksnack (AvAc/1K) 

Kamala introduces Tony and Steve to the world of fanfiction. There is a surprising amount of content about them being gay.

[green-blue-heller]

I think a lot of couples (marriages) didn't survive the shock of lockdown. I know at least three different couples who simply couldn't take spending that much time together. They were used to a very different arrangement and to be suddenly together-24/7 was just too much. (One husband bailed on his wife and kid after only a few weeks!) the adjustment to their lives Misha and Vicki must've had to have made in 2020 was probably very difficult. For two people who were used to a lot of freedom.

While this is true, Misha also didn’t really have anything else lined up at the time, so he would probably have been home either way.

Though, forced proximity is a different mindset.

My husband worked from home for about 3 months and I was ready to kill him… lol. But he still had a part time essential job that he went to, and I also have an essential job, so I did get to leave home (and him and the kids) to go to work.

Though, we went seven years working opposite shifts and not seeing each other often. It was a bit of a shock to the system to have him home all day. Especially when he had to use my office to work in.

But personally, I still think it goes back to 2017 when he moved in with Jensen in Vancouver. Knowing what I know now about how as soon as the courts opened up and she had residency, and him moving to Vancouver, it just makes more sense. To me. 🤷‍♀️

[dulafer]

REHAB

Another old one where I only posted links to another site. Twin brothers, one with great career and drinking problem. The other fills in for him. It’s long, detailed etc....

The Favor

I haven’t seen my brother Marcus in years but he needs a favor, so of course he called. He didn’t provide any details,  just that he needs a ride to Cleveland, Ohio and for me to watch his car for a few weeks. Marcus is my identical twin, down to a tribal band tattoo we got on spring break in college. Even our initials are identical thanks to our mother’s naming us ‘Michael Robert Thomas’ and ‘Marcus Robert Thomas’. Growing up, our parents could never tell us apart and many times we’d trade places even through college. 

We both graduated from University of Michigan with a degree in marketing but I took a minor in finance. After graduating, he craved the big city, high pay lure of Chicago while I stayed in Ann Arbor working for a trendy web marketing company. We haven’t been close since graduating from college.

Personality wise, let’s just say Marcus is the charming, outgoing twin and I’m more of a wall flower. In high school and college he was always getting the girl, or guy and sharing with me. He’d do all the work and I was happy with sloppy seconds. Many times we dated the same person without them knowing—that’s how identical we are. Nowadays, we talk occasionally and on our birthday. He’s got his life, I’ve got mine, and I keep up with his via his very active Instagram and Twitter accounts. I’ve got enough ‘marketing’ in my life so I’m more of an online stalker, never posting anything.

According to his Instagram, he just got promoted vice president at Coleman Marketing—a very prestigious firm in downtown Chicago. Someone tagged him in videos from last night celebrating his promotion. He’s raking in the money while I just got laid off. Not that I’m worried as I got a nice severance package and have a few leads on jobs. I was head of a marketing department for an automotive trim manufacturer. Truthfully, I was the marketing department completely.

Marcus pulls up to my house just after 7 am looking exhausted getting out of his BMW. It looks like he’s dressed in what he had on last night. He's wearing a great black leather jacket. His hair is gelled and spiky, and he’s clean shaven. I’ve let myself go lately, not shaving in days and no haircut in weeks. I’ll worry about a haircut and shave when I get a job interview. I greet him on the stoop.

“Marcus, when the hell did you leave Chicago? I was expecting you at lunch. Since when do you get up before noon?” I mock him.

“I was on a high, celebrating my promotion and couldn’t get Chad, my boyfriend, to come home with me. So I didn't sleep, packed up my things, jumped in the car and drove right here. Got coffee?”

“Sure, plenty, help yourself. You look beat bro.”

“You look like a bum bro, what’s with the scruff and hair?”  He angrily fires back.

“Using up some vacation time here, getting things done around the house. Love the BMW bro, awesome machine.” I cover for my job loss and change topic.

Marcus walks in, heads straight to the Keurig and makes himself at home. “I just drove 4 hours straight without stopping. You’re driving the rest of the way.”

“Nice, I love BMWs. So what in the hell is in Cleveland, Ohio?  Nothing that I know of.”

“I’ve been court ordered to check into St. Joseph Rehab Center.”

“Jesus, what the fuck did you do?” I act shocked but I’m not. 

“I had an accident, totaled my car and someone else’s, there was alcohol and drugs involved and it’s my fourth offense.”

“Is everyone okay? Are you okay? You look fine?”

“Yeah, other car was parked and empty, My Land Rover crumpled like paper but it really protected me.”

“Wow, you were lucky bro. I always told you—“

“Shut up, I know, I know…. So I go into rehab for a few weeks, get the doc to sign off that I’m fine and no one is the wiser.” He grabs his head like its pounding.

“A few weeks?  Tammy went to rehab for six months!”

“She didn’t have my lawyer.” He boasts.

“So I drop you off, pick you up?”

“That’s it. Keep it quiet, call into work for me Monday, take a few weeks off due to the death of our father.”

“Our father who died seven years ago?”

“Exactly, be all broken up about it. Shed some verbal tears. I have your script written, who to talk to, what to tell them.”

“Why don’t you call them yourself?”

“Once I check in, there’s no phones, computers or visitors allowed.”

“Jeez, sounds like a prison but you’re dressed like you going to a club bro, love the jacket.”

“Yeah, I’m a little over dressed. I came straight from the bar. They said to just bring sneakers, jeans, sweatpants, hoodies and t-shirts. The jacket is Coach, got it a few weeks ago shopping with my boyfriend Chad on the Mag Mile.”

I feel his jacket. “Can I borrow your jacket while you’re locked up.”

“Well, you are driving the rest of the way.” He takes it off, hands it to me and I pull it on over my t-shirt.

“Looks better on me bro.” He snickers at me. “It’s not meant to pair with a t-shirt. Mind if I take a quick shower? I was out all night with friends, haven’t showered yet.”

“Sure go ahead.”

He takes his coffee into my bedroom. The shower turns on while I find the keys for the BMW in his jacket I’m still wearing. I head outside and unlock the sleek black metallic M8 with a stunning red interior. Behind the driver’s seat is his briefcase and in the trunk is a large suitcase. I jump in, hit the start button and she roars to life with a powerful purr. It’s a remarkable car and I can’t wait to drive it.

Back inside I snap a pic of myself and finish up my coffee. Marcus steps out of bedroom, refreshed, wearing a pair of my jeans, a University of Michigan t-shirt and my new Nikes.

“Hope you don’t mind bro. I’ve been in the same clothes since happy hour last night, needed a change.”

“Not a problem, I’ll have my manservant launder and press your clothes.”

“I was sorta overdressed for this place.”

“You think? Now you look like someone with the drinking problem.” I laugh.

“I look like you doofus!” He heads to kitchen and has another cup of coffee. 

I grab my hoodie and toss it to him to wear. “I love this jacket bro, you can wear this. Since you won’t be needing anything this nice in rehab, I’ll just borrow it for a while.” I order him.

“Bro, it’s a $1100 jacket. You're not keeping it.”

“Fuck bro, no wonder it feels so soft.” I feel it more. “What you’re wearing now is more appropriate for the Betty Ford Clinic, or wherever the fuck you’re going.”

While he’s rummaging through my kitchen for something to eat, I head back to my bedroom.  His outfit is tossed on my chair. I quickly strip out of my sweats pants and dress in his clothes. He’s wearing my best sneakers and favorite t-shirt, I want to try out his look on me. I slip into his Polo Chinos, tuck in his dress shirt, fasten the belt, step into his driving shoes, then check myself out in the mirror. I try fixing my hair like Marcus’ but it’s too long.

I walk out to the kitchen, feeling my new pants, his eyes pop out seeing me. “Damn bro, I’ve never worn pants this soft.”

“Polo, all I wear, got them at their flagship store—“

“On the Mile.” I interrupt him, already knowing the answer. “Cole Haan driving shoes? Really? A bit pretentious if you ask me.”

“They match the jacket and belt man plus they’re so comfortable. You’ve been living in bumfuck Michigan too long, shopping at Walmart. You need to get a sense of fashion. You look presentable now though.” He snidely responds.

“What are you talking about ‘Michael’, I have a great fashion sense, just look at me.” I smile, assuming his identity then confidently pull back on his jacket and hand him my baseball caps. 

“Don’t get too comfortable in them, I’ll be back in a few weeks.” Marcus warns me while putting my baseball cap on backwards.

“We’re still identical after 29 years bro.” I look in the mirror seeing a scruffy Marcus staring back, my brother comes up behind to compare.

“You just need a decent haircut, some hair creme and shave. Hey, since you’re the scruffy one, you should do rehab for me.” He jokes.

“In your dreams bro. I’m not the one with the drinking problem.” I shoot him down.

“Whatever ass wipe, you probably can't get a decent drink within 30 miles of here. It’s no wonder you don’t drink. I can take an elevator from my office on the 19th, up to the 95th floor, to the best bar in all of Chicago.” Marcus brags, thinking I’m impressed.

“Oh I drink but not to the point of not getting home, almost killing myself and getting a DUI. You’re the pathetic one.” 

“Whatever bro, just remember—dad’s death, then vacation time to get his affairs in order. I have plenty of time to do this without anyone finding out.”

“So call into work for you, lie to them, drive your car around and pick you up in two weeks. Easy.”

“That’s it, by the way, you’re driving since I’m not legally able to. Keys are in my jacket” I pull them out and toss them in the air.

“Great! Just great. Guess I should be grateful I’m not bailing you out of jail.”

Road Trip

We leave Ann Arbor and he talks the entire trip about his accident, how he was drunk and high, driving home from Chad’s place, paying an expensive lawyer, promotion at work, buying this new BMW cash and how he’s going to change. I’ve heard this since college. He’s so self absorbed that I barely talk about myself and don’t mention my job loss or hunt.  I’m actually very jealous—his career is exploding even with his fuck ups and mine is imploding. I feel like a loser but driving this new BMW, in his expensive clothes, at least I look like a winner.

As is typical for Marcus, his coffee consumption has me pulling over at a rest stop on i80 not even an hour after leaving my house. I glance in the vanity mirror and start fussing with my hair, thinking of his comment. He’s right, we’re still identical—a haircut and shave would make us indistinguishable. I could have fun as him for a few weeks I think to myself and grin. His phone rings while I’m sitting in the car waiting, so I answer it.

“Hello?”

“Marcus, are you on your way? You’ve got to check in by noon today.” ID shows Stephen Backes.

“Yeah, I’m making good time, according to GPS, I’ll be there about 11am.”

“Please tell me you’re not driving.”

“No, a friend is driving me.”

“Okay, so I have some bad news for you. The judge didn’t agree to two weeks like I thought he would. You’ll be there three to four months, sorry man.” This has to be Marcus’ high price lawyer. “I’m so sorry. Are you there?”

“Fuck!!” Is all I could say while thinking of me needing a job.

“Believe me, we’ll get you out sooner, I won’t stop fighting for you. I’m pushing for a reduction already.”

“So what can  I do?” I’m stunned as Marcus will be.

“There’s nothing you can do. Check in today, do all they say and don’t make a scene. I’ll keep in contact via the staff there. I can’t visit and you can’t call out. Get yourself clean. On the bright side, the Alexanders aren’t pressing charges for the property damage, which is great news.”

“Silver lining.” I mutter.

“Okay, don’t worry, I'll get you out in no time.” He hangs up.

I sit there as a crazy thought forms in my mind—Marcus away for three months. I need something to do and who knows about his rehab stint? It’d be fun to step into his life for a while. We did it all the time growing up and in College. During summer break just before graduating from college, we traded places for a few months. He went to Daytona Beach with my boyfriend while I stayed home and partied as him. It worked out great because I was sick of Jonathan’s flaming personality. Marcus’s boyfriend was hot and he was bored with him. It was a great summer being my douche brother, fucking his boyfriend, partying with his friends and living his life. I didn’t want to swap back. Even our parents never figured it out, we were so identical. I stare in the vanity mirror and check myself out, turning my head from side to side, playing with my hair. I’m certain I can pull it off. Just then the car door opens up, Marcus jumps in and startles me.

“Lets get moving bro, I need to be there before lunch.” 

“We’ve got plenty of time. So who at work knows about your DUI and rehab visit?” I start to question him to make sure I can step into his life.

“No one, not even my best friend Jason or my boyfriend Chad know. I just got a huge promotion and Coleman was not happy with my last DUI. This one I managed to keep quiet but if I get caught, bye bye career. I called my lawyer right away and was out in hours. I told everyone I bought the BMW to celebrate my promotion, not because I totaled my Range Rover.”

“So you’ll just tell them you’re taking care of dad’s affairs, email them a few times over the next few weeks and no one knows.” I question him.

“Oh fuck, bro, never thought of it that way. I’ll be cut off from the world. You’ll have to check my email and answer my phone for me too, respond to some of them. Tell them you’re having a hard time with mom and she doesn’t have internet or good cell service in northern Michigan. Just adopt my bullshit attitude and tell em you’ll get back to them.”

The more he talks, the easier it’s getting to pull this deception off.  “Wow, you haven’t thought this through. Where is your computer? Log in? Phone?” Gathering pieces of his life if I want to go through with this game.

“I didn’t have much time, my lawyer called last night during happy hour, told me to get to Cleveland today. Work computer and files are in the briefcase right behind you. Password is first 4 letters of our last name and last 4 numbers of my social security, 1785. Got it?” He points to the iPhone charging on the center console.

“You better write that down.” I propose. He reaches behind me, grabs the portfolio from his briefcase and starts jotting down notes in it. 

“What if someone calls about something specific, like an account or proposal?” I fake concern for more details.

“They’re all on my desktop in folders. You’ll have to email the Ballis Automotive powerpoint to Gary McClintock on Monday so he can handle presentation for me.”

“You always do this Marcus. One little favor blows up into a cluster fuck, just like one little drink for you.”

“I promise this will be easy. I start the position Monday, there is a great marketing team to manage, it’ll run itself for a few weeks. They’ll feel bad contacting me during such tragic times.” He laughs at his deviousness. 

He continues to talk the rest of the way, filling me in on his career, telling me what I should be doing, and bragging about his success.  He’s quite in love with himself, talking about his recent bonus, how his $2,000,000 condo is now worth $2,500,000, and his $500,000 salary. I know I can do his job in a heartbeat based on our discussion.

When we get off the Cleveland exit I pull over for gas. He has to use the bathroom again but I put my hand out for his wallet. 

“Wallet, PIN number?” I ask.

“0394.” He gives it to me without hesitating but it’s the same PIN he’s been using since college. 

I fill the tank and jump back in, tucking his wallet in my back pocket where he keeps it. 

We make excellent time, getting there at 11:00 am. He grabs his suitcase from the trunk and we head in. The receptionist just stares at us.

“I’m Marcus Thomas, checking in.” He walks up to the receptionist. 

“Yes Mr. Thomas, we’re expecting you. Welcome to St. Joseph Clinic, please fill out these forms. We need to check your bags for any substances. Also we discourage any valuables as things tend to go missing or are used to bribe staff.” A bright energetic nurse greets us. 

He looks at me and shrugs his shoulders.

“Here, take these, put them in my car.” He removes his watch and ring, and I put them in my pocket.

“I have your wallet.” I pull it out of my pocket.

“You won’t need a penny here Mr. Thomas. In fact we keep your wallet and money locked up to discourage any sorts of bribes. I just need to verify your ID.” The nurse says.

I open his wallet and hand her his ID. She hands it back to me and Marcus waves it away for me to keep it. They have Marcus fill out some forms and he puts me down as emergency contact person. Security rummages through his bag, pulling everything out and even checking the lining. While he is signing things, I take out my phone and sneak pics of his hair, making sure to zoom in on all sides. 

“Okay Michael, thanks for the ride. Take care of my baby. Everything for Monday morning is in my briefcase. Cya soon.” A large male nurse grabs his luggage and escorts him to his room. 

Heading Home?

Walking out to the BMW, I reach in my pocket and feel my brother’s watch and ring, then feel his wallet in my back pocket. In the car, I flip down the vanity mirror and start playing with my hair again, then adjust it down to admire my outfit. It would be the ultimate deception to step into his life like I did in college—fucking Chad, doing his job, fooling his friends and spending his money. All his personal belongings are in my possession. Marcus even said so himself “You just need a decent haircut, some hair creme and shave.”

I grab his phone and the facial recognition opens it right up for ‘Marcus’. His entire life is in my fingertips. I scroll through his calendar, texts, email and social media. His schedule is full of meetings and appointments, including the Ballis Automotive presentation coming up on Friday.  Twitter and Facebook are filled with political rants and chats with friends. Instagram is full of pics of his recent work promotion celebrations. There are videos of him suited up, celebrating in a conference room yesterday, and more at some bar late last night wearing this exact outfit. No wonder he looked like crap this morning. I respond to some of the comments with various emojis as Marcus would, knowing his twisted sense of humor.

After 10 minutes of sitting in the parking lot, I start driving back—straight to Chicago. I haven’t been to his place in almost three years after he moved in and wanted to show it off. His GPS has his home address set for me. It’ll be fun to step into his life for a few months and assume his identity. He’ll be pissed but it’s an opportunity I can’t pass up. I’ll frame it as saving his career when he finds out months from now.

A few miles down the road I spot a ‘Great Clips’ hair salon in a strip mall and pull in without hesitating. They’re not busy and get me in right away. Using the pics from my phone, I ask for the same haircut. A young girl cuts my hair, shaves me, adds creme to my hair, and completely transforms me into Marcus. I stare in the mirror, grin then casually rake my hand through my hair per my brother’s habit. I feel my clean shaven face and the back of my neck. It’s perfect and I tip her heavily from my new wallet. I pull on my new Coach jacket and check myself out in the bathroom before leaving the salon. From my pockets, I pull out my brother’s ring and watch and put them on. I look exactly like Marcus did when he walked into my house earlier today. 

Back in ‘my’ BMW, I take my old wallet and phone, and lock them in the center console. I’ll use my driver’s license if I get pulled over. I slip on the sunglasses my brother wore then glance in the vanity mirror seeing Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman Marketing. “Marcus Thomas, nice to meet you.” I say to my new reflection.

I’m doing this—taking over Marcus’ life for a while. It’s payback for him fucking my boyfriends growing up, behind my back without me knowing. I grin in my mirror, then check my Tag watch. It’s 12:30 and my Nav system says I’ll be home in Chicago by 5:30 pm.

During the long ride home, ‘my’ buddy Jason calls—It’s show time.

“Hey buddy, where you at? I stopped by your place and you weren’t there? Thought after last night you’d still be passed out?” He harasses me.

“Sorry, didn’t I mention I had to go see my brother in Ann Arbor?”

“Hell, you never even mentioned you had a brother. Hopefully he’s better looking than you and can hold his liquor.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m definitely the better looking one but he controls his drinking better. We’re not that close but he’s having an engagement party tonight and wanted to see him.” I laugh and play Marcus perfectly.

“So I’m guessing no Sidetracks tonight or golf tomorrow?”

“No, sorry, won’t be home til tomorrow night.”

“Any word on your Merit membership?”

“Nothing yet.” Not sure what he’s talking about, will check into it.

“Okay, don’t forget next Saturday, for sure at Harborside.”

“Didn’t forget, its in my calendar.”

“I need to run here. See you at work bright and early Monday Mr. Vice President.” He chuckles and hangs up. 

That went extremely well. I’d love to go out tonight but I need time to learn about my new life. I open up my Facebook while driving, look up Jason and recognize him from my party pics last night. There’s pics of 'us' doing shots, looking wasted. He’s a good friend and didn’t suspect a thing. Five minutes later ‘my’ boyfriend Chad calls. I’m a little nervous but answer it, thinking to myself ‘you’re Marcus Thomas’. My new boyfriend has no reason to doubt my identity.

“Chad, how you doing?

“You sound good after last night.”

“Yeah, good sleep. How you feeling?”

“Great, just got back from picking up sister, then lunch at Brewser's, getting her settled in. You up for meeting her tonight?” 

“Oh, I’m in Ann Arbor, my brother has a surprise for me, having a little party.”

“You never mentioned a brother.”

“Yeah, we’re not that close. I’m betting he knocked up his girlfriend and is getting married.” I chuckle. 

“Oh great, that should be fun.  When you getting back?”

“Late tomorrow I’m thinking.”

“Oh, you’re gonna miss my sister.”

“I’m sorry, this came up a few hours ago with no warning, so here I am cruising to Michigan.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll survive driving the Bimmer, just don’t get a speeding ticket. I’m sorry about last night but I had too much to drink and wasn’t feeling good.” Chad chuckles.

“Don’t worry about it, it happens.”

“I’ll make it up to you Monday babe.” He promises.

“I’m holding you to it.”

“You better hold ‘it’ to me.” Getting suggestive and laughing at his joke. 

Chad goes on and on about his sister, her abusive husband and all the drama in her life. I give him my sympathetic ear while he does most of the talking. He doesn’t notice anything different about his boyfriend. I like the sound of his masculine voice which matches his rugged scruff image on my Instagram. I can’t wait to get him into bed but I need some ‘Marcus’ time to learn about my new life.

I drive the rest of the way back to his condo without pulling over. It’s a long ride but the BMW M8 is one sweet machine and makes it pass quickly. Marcus has great tastes in automobile. I’ve never driven a car like this. According to my brother, it has 600 hp and it feels like it. I’m cruising 80 mph but feel like I’m doing only 40 mph. I admire my new car, outfit, ring and watch as I’m flying ‘home’. 

Making Myself at Home

The hardest part was finding his assigned parking space after pulling into the garage. This causes me to drive around in circles. I stroll in carrying my brother’s briefcase and find the elevator. Finding my new condo is easy because of my visit a few years ago—Marcus bragged about being just below the Penthouse on the 78th floor. Tucked in my wallet is my access card that gets me into my new home.

I’m immediately in awe of ‘my’ place. It looks like something from ‘Architectural Digest’ magazine. The living room, kitchen and dining room have unobstructed corner view of Lake Michigan. The view is stunning, eliminating the need for any art or focal points in the living room. I take off my jacket, toss it on the sofa, grab a beer and make myself at home. There’s a dividing wall between the kitchen/dining room and the living room with a huge flat screen TV and see-thru open fireplace underneath it. All the furniture is clean, square and contemporary.  On the built-in wall unit are pics of mom and dad and other friends but only one of us taken at Halloween where we look nothing alike. A lot of his personal items, like artwork, pictures and music collection reflect both our lives and tastes. There are pics of me but anyone who’d see them would just assume it’s Marcus. 

The bedroom is large with a huge master bath and two connected closets full of my new wardrobe. The closets are his and her but he has them set up for work and casual. On the wall in between the two closets is a large built in jewelry chest containing a Rolex, a few Omegas and Tags, and an Apple Watch on a charging stand next to it. There’s also a nice selection of cufflinks, bracelets and other miscellaneous items. Underneath the shelf are drawers full of underwear, jocks and socks. On the wall behind the jewelry box is a safe that opens up after trying a few variations of his social security number. Inside is a gun, cash, passport and his birth certificate. 

In my new bedroom, the suit Marcus wore to work and celebrated in yesterday is laying on a leather chaise lounge with his untied shoes nearby on the floor. I pick up the suit coat and try it on—a perfect fit as would be expected. Everything he wore, that defined him yesterday is there to transform me into him. A devious thought crosses my mind—heading out to the 95th for a bite and getting familiar with my work place, in his work outfit from yesterday. I rush to the bathroom to freshen up and check out ‘my’ toiletries. A little bit of hair creme, brushing my teeth, a quick dab of deodorant, a spray of cologne and I’m the epitome of my brother.

Back in my bedroom, I quickly strip out of my brother’s bar clothes and start pulling on his black Tom Ford suit. His cuffed pants still have his belt in as I pull them on. His white dress shirt with monogramming have the cufflinks still in place. It’s tapered and hugs my body as I tuck it into my pants. His black cap toe shoes are still tied and broken in, for me to wiggle into. In the mirror I perfectly knot his silver textured tie as our father taught us when we were 14. Pulling on his suit coat completes my transformation and in the mirror staring back is Marcus as he was at work celebrating his promotion. 

It’s 8pm and I’m starving and decide to stop by ‘my office, then grab a bite at the 95th since my brother is a regular. ‘My’ office is on the 19th floor, so that’s my first stop since it is necessary for starting my new job on Monday. In the mirror I check my hair, and tuck my wallet, iPhone and keys in my pockets. 

At his office, finding his parking spot is just as tricky as at the condo, taking me 10 minutes to locate. My RF card operates the elevator, taking me to the 19th floor, where I easily find my office a few doors down from Robert Coleman’s corner office. The view isn’t nearly as spectacular as my condo but it’ll do for a work space. I spend an hour sitting at the desk, exploring drawers and files, and learning the layout so I’m up to speed first thing Monday morning. I didn’t think to bring my computer or I would have stayed longer. 

Learning my way around this building is complicated—figuring what elevator gets me where. I have to take the business elevator to a public lobby and take the express elevator up to the 95th.  The hostess recognizes ‘Mr. Thomas’ and asks if I’m meeting anyone. I just tell her I’m grabbing a drink at the bar and she leads me to the bar where ‘Tony’ also knows me and hands me a Gin and Tonic without asking. 

“Thanks Tony. Busy Night?”

“Not really. Jimmy said last night was insane. You hungry?”

“Yeah it was busy. I’m starving.”

“The usual?”

“Yeah, that’ll do.” I have no clue what I’m getting but I’ll eat anything.

I then head to the men’s room, taking my time to learn the layout as Marcus would know. Based on ‘my’ Instagram account, I’ll be spending many happy hours here in the coming months. There’s a steak tenderloin sandwich waiting at the bar for me when I get back. Tony rambles on and on about my brother and his friends, talking about Jason striking out with the redhead from J.P. Morgan last night he heard about from Jimmy. We’re quite the regulars here and I’m glad I stopped.

I get home after 11pm, exhausted from driving all day. Just like Marcus, I climb naked into his messy, unmade bed and pass right out. The first thing I do after waking up is jump in the shower, using his body wash, shampoo and conditioner. I don’t hesitate to use his electric toothbrush, deodorant or other personal items as my own. The final touch is using my brothers hair creme and styling it as he would. I grin and say to myself “Good morning Marcus.” 

Standing in ‘my’ bedroom, I go to the closets and slowly finger all of my new clothes. I pull open doors and drawers and familiarize myself with the contents. I pick up a sweater from the top of the closet and can smell the scent of the real Marcus Thomas. I start to think of my new identity and of the months ahead of living here and wearing all these clothes - ‘Marcus Thomas’ clothes. Silently I think, “you know what they say about clothes making the man!"

I walk around taking it all in, noting how it’s organized. From his drawers, I pull on a pair of his black Under Armour briefs. From the casual closet, I grab a pair of tan Polo chinos and a baby blue cashmere v-neck sweater I recognize from his instagram. His Cole Haas chukka boots and matching belt from yesterday go great with my Sunday outfit. A gold Omega watch and his black/titanium ring complete my very Marcus look. I’m the embodiment of my brother. Once dressed, I go through my work closet and explore.

His work suits are at one end, organized by color. I scan them, pull them apart to inspect and try on a few. They’re all very high-end Tom Ford, Brooks Brothers, Brioni or Hugo Boss and the fit is impeccable as to be expected. These are easily $5000 suits, compared to my $300 ‘Men’s Wearhouse’ specials. Next to his suits are dress shirts in all colors and styles, many of them custom with monogramming. His ties, belts, and shoes are concealed in the wall via very unique organizers that rolls out from the wall. These pull out organizers separate his outerwear like topcoats, trench coats from his dress shirts and suits. There’s one empty ‘Coach’ hanger that must be for my leather jacket that I wore yesterday. 

Back in my bedroom, I pick up my clothes from yesterday and toss in the hamper, except my old pair of Calvin Klein underwear—they end up buried deep in the kitchen garbage can. There can be nothing to reveal my real identity, no connection to my brother Michael.

The kitchen is contemporary with high-end cabinets and appliances—sleek stainless steel, beautiful teak wood cabinets  and marble countertops. Breakfast is K-cup coffee and a power bar. On the counter is a note from a Trudy, informing ‘me’ that she’ll begin thorough cleaning on Tuesday. So I have a housekeeper, of course I do. During breakfast, I familiarize myself with the kitchen, learning where things are, what’s in his fridge and cupboards. 

I take my breakfast to his office and his home computer wakes up with no password, showing me bookmarks for his banking, retirement and other accounts. His Wells Fargo checking account has $50,000 in it and his spending is very revealing. The account reveals a $15,000 check that paid for his lawyer, a $5000 check went for his DUI fine, another $40,000 check for St Joseph rehab. Keeping his DUI secret wasn’t cheap but it didn't dent his finances at all. There’s a $1012 charge from Coach Chicago, and in ‘my’ emails is the receipt dated a few weeks ago. His checking account reveals his dry cleaner, ‘lovely home’ cleaning service and all his spending habits.  I’m definitely going shopping today on the Magnificent Mile or ‘Mag Mile’ as we locals call it.

His $24,000/monthly deposits from Coleman provide a great lifestyle but there’s numerous deposits from ‘Cayman National Bank’ of $100,000 going back years. Something doesn’t look right—there’s a lot of money moving around.  A Fidelity account reveals diverse investments worth $3m. There’s also a J.P. Morgan account for his Palladium VISA that ‘I’ used to buy my new BMW weeks ago. I don’t have a thing to worry about financially as Marcus.

I open up his work laptop and easily log in as him. There’s a few new emails to review, then I spend hours reading through his old ones, getting up to speed with Ballis and other key customers. Thanks to his email history, it’s easy to respond to a few new emails as he would. On his desktop are all the files he mentioned, that’ll help me to learn his work issues. The Ballis presentation looks to be complete, ready for me to give on Friday but it looks boring. Some things seem odd or missing—I’ll have to look at that later.

My First Performance

It’s now lunch, I’m hungry and grab my new leather jacket to go out shopping. With my phone, wallet and keys in place, I head down to my car to start my first day. My first stop is the Burberry flagship store where I buy a tan classic trench coat that I didn’t find in my closet. I’ve always loved that classic look but they’re $2700—a little steep for my brother Michael but not me. Across the street is the Under Armour store that I shop at monthly and just have to check out. Half an hour later, I’m leaving with new underwear and some workout gear. I walk into the Coach store and I’m immediately accosted by the salesperson who sold ‘me’ the leather jacket I’m wearing. To make his day, I purchase a black hooded leather jacket that catches my eye for $1200. As I’m loading everything into my BMW, the phone rings and I don’t hesitate to answer it.

“Hey Liam.” I love caller ID. I’m able to answer like I’ve known him for years.

“Hey Marcus, what are you doing?”

“Was out shopping, looking to grab lunch now and need to work later.” Reminding myself that I need more time in the office before my first day on the job. 

“Where you at, I’ll join you.” He offers.

“On the Mile near Burberry.” I respond eagerly but think of the test of fooling ‘Liam’.

“Great, meet me at Capital Grill in 30 minutes.”

“Sounds like a plan.” My brother’s usual lingo, or it use to be.

Capital Grill is a few minutes away, giving me plenty of time to dig up information on Liam. Based on text messages and emails, he is gorgeous with short brown hair, an amazing six pack, blue eyes, stubble and is definitely a love interest. It looks like my brother and him were hot and heavy during the summer, with trips to Saugatuck and Holland Michigan on weekends. According to recent emails, he moved to Detroit for a big promotion with Bank of America. ‘My’ Instagram is full of beach parties, bonfires and drinking on a beach. My phone is even better with pics of him naked in my bedroom. Nice one bro!

I’m sure I’ll fool him easily. He shows up 30 minutes later with a big wet kiss for me. I’m instantly hard seeing him and from passionately kissing a hot stranger. During lunch he’s teasing my legs with his toes and reaching across with his hands, touching mine. 

“How’s Detroit treating you?” I start with what I know.

“I hate it! It’s dirty, the bars suck and no there’s no shopping like here.” He teases my legs constantly.

“It’s a big change I’m sure.” I can’t help but stare into his blue eyes.

“Are you seeing anyone?” He probes.

“Not really, a few dates, you? Been busy with work and my promotion.” 

“We need to celebrate that, I saw your Instagram posts and would have come home a few days earlier had I known.” He has his foot in my crotch, feeling my hard-on with his toes.

“We could celebrate privately now back at my place.” I smile and take his hand.

He grabs mine, pulls me up and we head back to ‘my’ place. Once inside, I press him against the wall, ram my tongue down his throat then drag him back to my bedroom and rip off his clothes. I push him on the bed.

“Fuck man, your horny Marcus.” He reaches into the drawer, easily finds a condom and pulls me into the bed. In seconds I’m on my back, the condom is slipped on and he’s straddling me, riding my throbbing cock. 

“Oh my god Liam.” I scream out in ecstasy and explode in him.

It was a great afternoon, especially when he screams out “Fuckkk Marcus” and I pump him full of cum. 

“Man, you’re incredible as always.” He cries out exhausted.

“It feels like it’s been years, I’ve missed you so much. You’re so hot.” I collapse back with my hands behind my head, totally thrilled with my performance as Marcus.

“You’re one horny fucker, it must have been a while for you. You seem different, more relaxed, laid back?” He shocks me, then giggles and I join in.

“That was months of missing you.” I kiss him deeply and get hard again. 

He takes my stiff throbbing member in his mouth without asking, getting me off again in seconds. Fuck, my brother really should keep this one—he’s hot, smart, funny and great in bed. Men like that are tough to find. We shower, scrubbing each other and making out. I’m grinning in the mirror, seeing Liam walking up behind me with a look in his eyes. He hasn’t notice anything different about ‘Marcus’.

“You look handsome as ever, babe,” he says, reaching his arm around and grabbing my stiff penis. “You sure you have to go to work?”

“Sorry but tomorrow is my first day as Vice President, I have a lot of prepping to do. When do you leave?” I turn around and kiss him gently.

“Wednesday morning, let’s do this again Tuesday night. I have a business dinner tomorrow.” He whispers in my ear.

“It’s a date.” 

He pulls off the towel from around my waist, wraps his arms around my neck and starts deeply kissing me. I brace myself against the counter and pull him tight cupping his ass in my hands. Minutes later, he dresses and says goodbye with a peck on the cheek. I grab my iPhone and duplicate a pic that’s in my camera of ‘me’ from a few weeks ago, with only a white towel around my waste. My build and six pack appears to be identical to my brother’s. I grin knowing my new identity is perfect. I’m dressing in front of the mirror, thinking of the best sex I’ve had in years. It’s incredible being Marcus with all the benefits—hot men, great wardrobe and incredible condo. It’s off to work here though. I need to be up to speed tomorrow. I need to know exactly what I’m doing.

No one is in the office on a Sunday afternoon and I have the whole place to myself to explore. My office is very impressive, very high-tech looking with a great view. There lots of plants, large conference table, hidden closet and great desk with two large monitors that automatically sync to my laptop when I open it. I’m there for hours logged into the system learning the layout, looking up files/people and my dashboard. By the end of the night, I’m responding to emails as Marcus would and planning my week. As I’m leaving, I glance my image in the window and smile as satisfaction sweeps over me. I’m ready for my first day as vice president.

Work Day One

I get to bed at 11 pm but I’m up after midnight studying the social media of fellow employees. I drift in and out of sleep all night long. The excitement of being Marcus Thomas has me up at 5 am planning my day—my 1st team meeting to review projects at 9 am, lunch with MedTech CMO and Ballis review at 3 pm.  

I crawl out of bed a little apprehensive about pulling off this charade. Then I remind myself how easily I passed for my brother with Liam, his coworker Jason and his lawyer. Since no one knows about Michael, there’s no reason for anyone to suspect I’m not Marcus. A long shower calms me down and using Marcus’s body wash gives me his base scent. All his personal hygiene items, including his Polo cologne which he’s been wearing since college are on his counter. I’m not a big fan of hair wax and creme but Marcus is. I put a dab in my hand, warm it up in my palms and work it through my hair. Running his comb through it, gives me his flawless style, identical to the photos in my phone. I use his electric toothbrush, spritz on some Polo, lift up my arm and make a few passes with his deodorant. My brother’s scent is now mine.

Marcus has alway been anal with his appearance and style—planning and laying everything out before dressing so I adopt the same habit. I’ve reviewed his Instagram and photos looking for some guidance on what he likes to wear. They’re a wealth of information on his tastes. His charcoal glen plaid Tom Ford suit catches my eye and looked great on him a few weeks ago. I pair it with a white french cuff, spread collar shirt, purple textured tie and white silk pocket square. The Tag is fine for weekends and casual days but knowing my pretentious brother, I’m certain Marcus would wear either the Omega or Rolex watch for work. I select his white gold Rolex and a pair of matching cufflinks. His black cap toe Allen Edmond shoes finish Marcus’ outfit for the day. 

In front of the closet mirror, I pull on his, no, my socks, underwear and t-shirt, then cuffed pants and custom shirt. His cufflinks and tie are next. His Allen Edmonds are luxurious and broken in for me. The way everything fits, it's clear we're still the same size. Finally I pull on the suit coat, add watch and ring, then tuck phone and wallet into my suit pockets. I’m watching my transformation in the mirror, pleased with every detail that confirms I’m Marcus Thomas, new vice president of marketing for Coleman. 

It’s hard to believe how completely different ‘my’ life is now–looking in the mirror, my reflection isn’t my own any more, I’m Marcus Thomas. I reach up and rake my hand through my thick hair. I love being Marcus—his style, his money and sex life so far are great. I straighten and adjust the knot of my tie with a smirk. “I’m Marcus Thomas,” I say to myself as my new reality is settling in.

I drive to work even though I could easily walk but there’s emails from HR about my new assigned parking space. Knowing Marcus, I’m certain he’d be driving everyday to show off the BMW M8, even with his DUI issue. This version of him will do the same but in case I’m pulled over, my original wallet is locked in the BMW console. I find my new parking spot, shut off the engine and mentally prepare myself. “I’m Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman” I repeat to myself many times.

I pull out my new coach wallet and work ID with RF chip, then I notice ‘my’ driver’s license. It’s the one detail I need to assume Marcus’ life in Illinois—his driver’s license. Marcus’ drivers license is suspended and if I use it for a traffic stop, I’ll be in jail. I can’t call his lawyer to fix it and they probably wouldn’t restore it until rehab is complete and he’s free. Then the perfect solution hits me—first, I’ll change my name in Michigan from Michael to Marcus then ‘move’ to Illinois using my new name and Marcus’ address. I’ll have a valid ‘Marcus Robert Thomas’ driver’s license that’s perfect with a clean driving record.

A quick check of myself in the vanity mirror reflects Marcus back at me, looking very sharp as usual. I get out and stroll in with my briefcase ready for my new position. People are greeting me, congratulating me and asking about my weekend. Everyone knows about my party Friday night at McGee’s. I need to thank my team member, Richard Zeppa for that tidbit of information I was lacking.

I hang up my new trench coat but leave on my suit, not sure what the dress code is for upper management. On Friday everyone was in a suit jacket during the office party for my promotion. At the coffee machine, the office gossip, politics and small talk comes easy. It teaches me a lot about the company, helping me fit in. Back in my office the day begins with email and prepping for my 9:30 am review with my team. Marcus was kind enough to do the prep work for me, outlining all the issues and his concerns. It’ll be like he’s actually there. Come to think of it, he is here and I’ve got to think of myself as my brother completely. 

Jason shows up at my office looking even better in person. He walks in, shuts the door and jumps into one of my chairs. Too bad he’s not gay or I’d be all over my new best friend. 

“Look at you Mr. Vice President, all professional looking and in early. New tie? You look rested and ready to go.” He notices.

“First impressions are important, especially with a new team to impress. Nah, I’ve had this tie, just wanted something that pops.” I notice he’s keeping his suit on. 

“How was your weekend, when did you get back?” He asks and I’m ready.

“It was good, I met my brother’s fiancee, drank too much, a lot of family was there and pressure is now on me to tie the knot. I got home about 10 pm and crashed. What did you do?” I explain.

“You tie the knot? You can barely tie your shoes.” He mocks and laughs at me. “Crashed all day Saturday, went out with Christine to some comedy club, sex and golf with Ted and Will yesterday.”

There’s a knock on my door and I recognize Adam Trappe, Coleman’s President. Jason jumps up from chair and welcomes ‘Adam’ into my office.

“Adam, Come on in, we’re just catching up.”

Adam comes right in, I stand up as a sign of respect. “Marcus, Ready for your first day?”

“Sure, anxious to tear into the job.” I smile as he has no clue this really is my ‘first’ day.

“Don’t forget lunch with Andy Kramer from Medtech. We need to tag team him on his spend.” Adam reminds me.`

“Adam, with the proposal I have planned, he’ll be begging to give us more money and buying us lunch. I promise.” Doing my best impersonation of my arrogant brother, having memorized his talking points for lunch today.

Adams smiles. “I’ll drive, just stop by my office about 11:30. Kristi made reservations at Gracy’s.”

Jason and Adam leave and I review ‘my’ notes for my first team meeting. Apparently, Marcus’s rehab stint was a last minute event because he has the next few weeks planned out and prepped for.  Everything is right at my fingertips to be him.

The whole day was easier than I expected. For the project reviews, it was new for all everyone so I followed my standard practice and raised Marcus’ concerns from his notes. Lunch was a huge success as Kramer loved my proposal and agreed to increase his marketing budget. Adam’s only complaint was him having to pick up lunch for us. I spend the rest of the day with my new team in and out of my office, and catching up with a flood of emails. Overall, It was an incredible day.

Jason stops by my office for happy hour and a few of us head up to the 95th. The view of the city from up there is amazing but I try to ignore it since it would be familiar to Marcus. Jimmy automatically hands me ‘my’ usual Gin & Tonic. We’re there for a few hours, drinking and having appetizers. Unlike my brother, I know when to stop which Jason notices.

“You’re different Marcus, something wrong? You’re not drinking.”

“Rough weekend thanks to Friday night and you, then driving to Ann Arbor. Then starting new position today.”

“So why aren’t you drinking?”

“Because of Friday night and you.” 

He laughs at me. “Did you invite your boyfriend? Chad just came in with ‘Alex’ and is heading this way.”

Shit, Marcus mentioned Chad and something about the accident. I open up my phone and run to the bathroom quick. “I’ll be right back, beer is kicking in.”

“What beer?” He gets cocky with his best friend. 

In the bathroom I quickly review text messages from him, trying to piece together their relationship. The early text messages are about partying and clubbing at some trendy spots. Later messages are about sex, going out for dinner and hanging out. I’ll just have to wing it, can’t hide in the stall all night. I splash cold water on my face, stare in the mirror and think to myself ‘you’re Marcus Thomas, just look at you’. After straightening my tie and running my hand through my hair, I head back to the bar. One thing is certain, he’s hot and if he wants to have sex, I’m in. Chad comes over to me with a big hug followed by a tender kiss. I’m hard in a minute like I was with Liam yesterday.

“I knew I’d find you here babe. I’m sorry about Friday night, I just had so much to do Saturday and Sunday with my sister in town.” He pouts.

“Don’t worry about it. I forgot about a family event in Ann Arbor I had to go to.” I lie.

Jason whispers in my ear. “Don’t want to say the marriage word do you?” Then chuckles.

“I’ve missed you.” Chad says while his friend Alex gives me really dirty looks. I’m not sure who he is, if they’re related, friends or what.

“I’ve missed you, can I get you a drink?” 

“A vodka cranberry would be great, Alex, do you want something?” He asks his friend.

“Vodka cranberry would do the trick.” He says queerly.  I get a very jealous vibe off him.

I head to the bar and pay with my new Amex then return. Alex is hanging up his phone, excited because his boyfriend got home early and is waiting for him. He guzzles his drink and runs, leaving Chad with me and my friends. 

I play Marcus’ friends convincingly and no one doubts my identity. I make sure to take lots of selfies with Jason and Chad and post them on my Instagram and Facebook, using clever hashtags and comments. Instead of my usual Ultra beer, I’m drinking Marcus’ gin & tonic and notice that Jason is a Yuengling drinker. In the mirror behind the bar, I glimpse Marcus and his best friend drinking and getting shit face.

I’ve known Marcus my entire life while Chad has known him only a few months. After a few drinks, he’s grabbing my ass and kissing me. I lean in and kiss him deeply back, loving the credibility he gives me as my brother, accepting me so easily, loving it when he calls me Marcus. I want to fuck him so badly. We hurry back to my place and I fuck him in my brother’s bed. As I make my way down his body, I slide his underwear off, then delicately lick his perfect penis. He’s been here before as he has no problem finding my condoms and slipping one on me. I slip into him slowly and push in deeply, making him moan louder and louder. When he calls out ‘Marcus’, I climax immediately and he follows a minute later. I spoon him to sleep with my hands wrapped around his waist. 

I wake up to my shower running and him running around the apartment.

“Don’t get up, it’s early and I have a shoot at 6am with Charlie Matthews. He’s gorgeous.” His voice full of excitement.

I grab my phone off the charger and quickly google Charlie Matthews. “Not as hot as what you had last night.”

“Hot and sexy. I had a great time, let’s do this Friday night and we can sleep in Saturday.”

“Let me text you on that, Friday is really busy and I have a golf outing with Jason really early Saturday. I blew him off last weekend, can’t do it again.” I explain.

“Let me know then.” He comes over to the bed and kisses me deeply. I keep my hand on the back of his head and try to keep him from leaving. 

I’ve been Marcus for two days and have had sex every day—more than I had in the past six months as Michael. His life is better than expected and I wouldn’t change a thing. I wonder who else I could fuck, or hook up with Liam again since he is still in town. Marcus has been living the good life for sure. I then remember seeing Grinder on my brother’s phone, grab it and start swiping for some possible action for tonight. 

Work Day Two

In the shower, I grab my semi-rigid penis, think of my new sex life, rub one out then follow my routine. I’m in love with Marcus’s life—the sex, job, friends, car, and condo. Stepping into his life it has been easier than I ever imagine. I’m really appreciating his closet, especially his suits. When we were growing up, he always had a more ‘put-together’ preppy look, paying attention to details. I was more grunge and laidback. It was the only way our parents could tell us apart. He’s taken his preppy look to the next level. He has a subscription to GQ and collection on his closet shelf going back years. I never knew he was such a metrosexual. 

His appearance is easy to duplicate with his complete wardrobe at my finger tips. Thanks to his Instagram, there are years of pics and videos of him during and after work at happy hours. There are pics of him in a light gray window pane suit that catches my eyes. It’s dated a few months ago and it looked great on him. It’s a Hugo Boss suit that I easily find in his closet. All the details except the shoes are easy to find and pull together. As Marcus does, I lay everything out on my bed to perfect.

My second day starts with Jason waiting for me in my office.

“Where were you bro?” He demands.

“What?” I have no clue what he’s referring to.

“Hello? The gym? Did you forget?”

“Oh fuck, I’m sorry man. I hooked up with Chad, was ‘busy’ all night and over slept.” Thinking quick because I had no clue about Marcus working out. I did notice a gym bag on the floor in the closet but didn’t think about it. 

“I didn’t see you leaving with him?” 

“Because you were busy with Cathy.” I give him one of Marcus’ devious smiles, like he ate the canary.

“All is forgiven oh great one.” He jokes, bows and twirls his hand as a sign of respect. 

The rest of my day is easy, getting into account and proposal details, working with my team. Jason is in and out of my office talking about anything and everything—I really like the guy and being his friend. We do lunch together at the Big Pig just across the street. According to my debit account, it’s at least a weekly occurrence if not more. Marcus eats anything so there’s no need to worry what I order. The only questionable choice was me getting a Coke instead of a beer. Jason commented and told him I drank too much again last night. It seemed to quiet him quickly. 

As we were finishing up, Liam called about getting together tonight and I don’t hesitate to say yes. I pick him up at his hotel, take him to Ghezzi’s for Italian. I ply him with wine while staying away from it. The wine doesn’t affect his ‘foot work’ in my crotch fortunately and I’m throbbing hard all through dinner. We skip desert and I he ends up with my penis as ‘desert’ and loves it. I’m now three for three with sex so far this week. Liam doesn’t stay so he can catch his early morning flight back to Detroit tomorrow. 

Work Day Three

Two days of work have gone fairly smooth. There’s been a few glitches, like Marcus’ gym habit or not knowing things off the top of my head, that have been out of character. There will be more missteps and I’ll just respond the best I can. 

To sort out the gym routine with Jason, I start with his gym bag where I find his gear but also his gym ID card and dry cleaning slip in the end pocket. He’s a member of John Hancock Center Fitness, and also uses the Hancock dry cleaner. On my calendar are blocked off areas for ‘gym’ on Tuesday and Thursday morning at 7 am. There are still a lot of blanks I need to fill out so I head to work early for a quick stop at the gym.

I’m greeted by ‘Gina’ the receptionist at the entrance. “Marcus, we missed you yesterday, Jason was looking for you too.”

“Yeah Gina, he tore into me in the office for it.” I laugh.

“What can I do for you?”

“I think I may have lost my ear buds here, did anyone turn a pair in?” I ask.

“Not that I know of but let me check.” She heads into the manager’s office while I head to the men’s locker room to find my locker.  There’s a number on my ID card that leads me to my locker and opens it right up for me. Marcus has his complete bathroom duplicated in here—Polo products, toothbrush and extra gear. There’s a clipboard showing a routine that he hasn’t used it in a year per the date but it does give me an outline of his habit. 

I grab my earbuds out of my pocket and head back to Gina.

“It looks like you’ve found them.” She notes happily.

“Yeah, left them in my locker like an idiot.” I laugh. “Hey was Jason in today?”

“No but then again, he never comes without you except on Sundays once in a while.”

“Oh you have his attendance history?”

“Sure, going back years to when you both joined.” She turns the monitor around for me to see. Right there is what I needed—Jason and I work out every Tuesday and Thursday like clockwork at 7 am, leave about 8:30 am, grab a coffee at the Starbucks per my spending alerts and head to work.

“Thanks for your help Gina, see you tomorrow.”

“No you won’t, remember Ron is on Thursday.” She corrects me.

“Oh yeah, it feels like Monday for some reason.” A plausible recover.

My gym routine is set for tomorrow morning with my best friend.

After a few days as Marcus, my life is already becoming routine. I’m using ‘I’ll get back to you’ a lot but I do get back to them after I research the issue. This helps with learning the job and customers. No one has questioned my identity but then why would they with my looks. 

Late in the day a young kid with a man bun knocks on my door and walks in. I have never seen him before.

“Mr. Thomas, hi, I’m Gavin from IT services. Are you having computer problems?” He asks.

“No, why?” I respond not thinking I have any issues. I’m in the system and seem to have full access.

“Well, we track logins and you haven’t been using your biometric scanner, just your PIN.”

Damn, I did see a fingerprint scanner on the desk and haven’t bother with it even though it blinks when I open up my MacBook. I tried it once then it turned red and rejected me. 

“It didn’t work on Sunday so I’ve just been using my PIN. Isn’t that okay?” I explain.

“The PIN should only be used when you’re traveling, working remotely. The fingerprint is much more secure, prevents hackers from gaining access. Mr. Coleman wants his senior staff more protected.” Gavin explains.

“Understood, I just wasn’t worried about it.”

“Shut down and reboot and try it.” He directs.

After it boots up, I try my fingerprint and it beeps red.

“Hmmm, your fingerprint file must be corrupt. We’ll rescan and reconfigure it for you. It happens now and then.” From his bag he pulls out his computer and hand size scanner. He hooks everything up and the scanner glows blue for him.

“Now just place your right hand on it and don’t move till it glows green.”

I’m nervous wondering if this will compare old and new, and alert him to the difference. He removes my hand, then types away at his laptop. 

“Okay, now reboot and try any finger.” He orders.

It boots up, I try my index finger and it approves. 

“All set Mr. Thomas. Next time it happens, call me right away. Also, we’ll be adding biometric scanners to all the executive offices and lobby entrance in a few weeks. You’re all set for that now.”

“Thanks Gavin, I appreciate the help.” Gavin doesn’t realize how much he’s helped me. I’ve been looking at that scanner all week, wondering how get my fingerprints recognized and afraid of asking for help because of fear I’d be discovered. I’m now Marcus Thomas with security.

I skip happy hour with my friends and head home to prep for tomorrow’s big presentation. On the way I stop at the cleaners and pick up a bundle of laundry, suits, ties and shirts. The elderly woman greets ‘Mr. Thomas’ and thanks me for my business. At home I review my dry cleaning as I hang up everything in my closet. There’s a sharp 3 piece charcoal suit that’s one of my favorites based on Instagram and will be my outfit for tomorrow. 

I work in my home office till 9 pm reviewing the Ballis files, meeting notes and account details. Marcus’ Ballis history spans almost 2 years. It’s obvious the quality of his work has vastly improved over those years. There’s a maturity to it now. I pull up the Ballis presentation and practice it for Friday’s meeting. The one difference between myself and Marcus is that I’m the better public speaker. There are a few videos of him giving presentations in his account files and we’re about equal now. 

TGIF

I’m awake very early, planning my outfit for today’s big presentation. I’ll be wearing one of my brother’s, I mean one of my favorite outfits—I’m all Tom Ford today.  I checked my shopping receipts and found that I purchased a ‘Tom Ford Windsor 3-piece peak lapel suit’ for $7200 a few months ago. That was just for the suit—add $300 for tie, $50 for a pocket square, $600 for a custom dress shirt, $2000 for a pair of English Tan leather shoes, $75 for black underwear, $145 for t-shirts and a stunning $4950 for ‘striped’ cufflinks for a total of $17,000.  They must love me at Tom Ford. It takes 30 minutes to find all these items in my closet. 

It’s amazing slipping into $75 boxer briefs that hug my ass. I never liked wearing t-shirts but Marcus always does so I pull on a brand new $145 Tom Ford t-shirt. For socks, I find a crazy colorful bright green pair with golf balls on them—for a pop of color. He showed these off on his Tiktok account which I’ve yet to use. I pull on the cuffed pants and add a belt, using the same hole as he has a few times. His custom shirt tapers to my waist. The striped cufflinks are a bit tricky but look like a million dollars. The tie decision is tough but I stick with the gold paisley Tom Ford he wore with this suit before. His tan dress shoes look great but are not yet broken in, but he left them tied so I just wiggle into them. I’ve never worn a 3-piece suit in my life but the vest adds an image of authority as it goes on. I remove the suit jacket and confidently pull it on, adjusting the cuffs and tie in the mirror. ‘My’ Rolex and ring complete my transformation into Marcus Robert Thomas. 

In the mirror is Marcus Thomas, vice president at Coleman Marketing, running his hand through his hair, checking every detail of his appearance. My new Burberry tops off my identity.

Friday cements my new identity. The Ballis presentation is flawless and after 5 hours, their marketing team awards Coleman a huge contract worth $5m. My biggest challenge was quickly learning the names of the key players since my brother had a number of meetings with them. Robert Coleman congratulated me at happy hour on the 95th. He pulls me aside and says. “keep doing this and you won’t be VP for long.” 

Jason, who wasn’t in the meeting, comes up to me and I have Mark take a pic. “Marcus, you’re the buzz of the entire office, even Adam is praising you.”

“Buddy, Ballis was just ripe for a new marketing direction and it all fell into place.”

“Well, it was your best work according to everyone in the room.” He adds.

“Robert quietly told me I wouldn’t be VP for long, so he’s either firing me or promoting me.” I smile while Jason jumps up and down hugging me. 

“You better not be stealing my boyfriend.” Chad shows up, puts his hand around my neck and pulls me in for deep kiss. 

“Babe, you’re late.” I note.

“Yeah, last minute phone call with California. I’ll make it up to you later.” He smiles.

Jason chimes in.”don’t keep him up all night, we’re playing Harborside bright and early.”

“I didn’t forget.” I assure him.

After Chad discretely reaches in my pocket and fondles my cock., we excuse ourselves, grab dinner and head back to my place. We fuck all night long, including in my shower, early the next morning. As soon as Chad leaves, Jason calls to make sure I’m up. 

He offers to pick me up and drive. I’m grateful since I’m clueless how to get to Harborside. Marcus’ golf clothes are in the casual part of my closet and his clubs are in one of my spare bedrooms along with his other toys. Marcus was always a better golfer than me and I haven’t played in years. Again, I use instagram to select a typical Marcus outfit—Under Armour shorts and shirt, Adidas cleats and his leggings since it’s chilly outside. He has a great set of Callaway clubs and bag but it doesn’t help. Jason points out that I suck more than usual but I blame it on not sleeping last night and not playing in weeks.

The best part of the day is Jason driving me back to his place to help him move some furniture. I now know where my best friend lives. We hang out for hours, watch some college football, and drink too much beer the rest of the afternoon. That night we hit up “Sides” and I get wasted for the first time in 7 years. My new friends are great and clueless they have a new friend.

Sunday is set aside as a ‘me’ day to celebrate my first incredible week living my brother’s life. I dress in my usual Polo Chino, a sweater and my favorite leather jacket. For breakfast I take the M8 north along Lake Michigan and find a little diner to eat then head back to the city to shop. Even though I mock the ‘Mag Mile’, there’s no better place to shop and that’s my plan. My net worth is north of $5 million now and I’m going to spend some of it. At the Polo store I’m recognized, kissed up to and end up spending $2500 for sport coat, pants and casual shirt. At the Rolex Boutique I spend $13,000 on Rolex Daytona, putting it on my Platinum VISA. The serious damage is done at Tom Ford where I spend $20,000 on a few new suits, suspenders, shoes and ties.  One is a double breasted, the other is a 3-piece suit and I haven’t seen anything like them in my closet. Everything I purchase reflects Marcus’ style and tastes, not Michael’s. 

Back home, it takes two trips to unload the car. Chad comes over for dinner and spends the night. He’s shocked to learn I can cook but I keep it simple with some steaks on the grill, potatoes and salad. He’s up early to go to work and I decline an invitation to join him so I can sleep in. I really enjoy spending time with him, especially the sex. 

The next week flies by like the first with long hours, working out and happy hours with Jason and friends. Robert has given me the AMP account to conquer next, bypassing Adam. My love life is insane. Chad fucked me in the bathroom on the 95th, Liam wants me to spend a weekend with him in Detroit. Merit approved my application for membership so Jason and I will be taking the AMP management team there for a round before the season end. 

I can’t believe how easy it’s been stepping into Marcus’ life and how much I’m enjoying it. His routine is now my routine—whether it’s working out, or happy hour or work. I’ve replaced him and no one has a clue. When someone says ‘Marcus’, I instinctively respond to ‘my’ name without hesitation. My fear now is losing it back to him and ending up back in Ann Arbor building websites and working for another little company.

Visit Number One

Marcus’ rehab clinic called, letting me know I can visit on Saturday and take him off campus for lunch. I confirm I’ll be there at noon and to let him know. On the way there, I stop by my house and change from his clothes into my typical Levis and t-shirt but keep the leather jacket on. I also wear my Michigan baseball cap to hide my new haircut. Marcus’ clothes are put in a duffle bag and hidden in the trunk to change back into later.

There are a lot of rules to agree to before Marcus is allowed out for the afternoon. He’s limited to a 10 mile area and no alcohol, drugs or cigarettes of any kind. A big male nurse brings him out to me and we jump in the BMW.

“You’re not getting out?” Is the first question I ask.

“Fuck no, I’m stuck here for 90 days at least according to my therapist. My fucking lawyer says it was a last minute change and that he even told me. I was so drunk the last time we talked, that I probably forgot the conversation.”

“Great, I was confused when the clinic called about lunch, figuring they meant taking you home. What about work? They’re expecting you on Monday.”

“I know, I know, I’ll lose everything I’ve worked for with Coleman. I was thinking we could swap places and you stay here but this ankle bracelet doesn’t come off.” He lifts his leg to show me.

“Jesus, you’re under house arrest bro. I could have, would have. I was laid off from my job a few days ago. We were bought out by Tyco months ago and when I refused to move to Philadelphia for them, they laid me off.” He’s not the only good liar in the family. 

“So what are you going to do?” Marcus asks.

“Well, I got a 9 months severance, even have some leads on jobs, so I’m in no hurry yet.”

“Bro, this is perfect! Go into work as me, cover for me.” I knew he’d come up with that on his own. Internally I’m smiling but outwardly, I look gravely concerned. 

“Oh come on bro, this isn’t college, this would be your life. This would be for months. How do I learn your job by Monday morning?”

“Michael, we’re both marketing majors, you have all my files on my laptop, all you have to do is clean yourself up, put on one of my suits and go in. It’ll be easy, like when we swapped for the summer in college.”

“You’re comparing this to college? We swapped boyfriends for a few months.”

“Yeah, it’ll be easy. I’m starting a new position with a new creative team that barely know me.”

“What about your coworkers, friends, neighbors and boyfriends? Your phone has been going crazy with people calling, offering condolences and wanting to send flowers. I spoke to Liam and Chad a few times, they’re worried about me, I mean you and our dad’s death. That lie traveled really far and fast.” I’m as good of a liar as Marcus.

“Oh, it was probably my buddy Jason, he’s as bad as a woman.” He chuckles.

“So Jason knows you really well, right? As soon as I fuck up, he’ll figure out I’m not you.”

“No, he has no clue I even have a brother, let alone a twin. He’ll have no reason to suspect you’re not me.”

“What about everyone else?”

“I’ll write down everything you need to know about my life. Pull into that Dollar Store and grab a tablet. Do you have my computer with you?”

“No, it’s in my living room along with your phone, wallet and jewelry.” I pull into the store and we grab all that’s needed. I throw everything at him and he starts writing feverishly while I look for a place to eat in this little town. We settle on a Sonny’s BBQ and get a table in the corner away from everyone. I keep my baseball cap on so Marcus doesn’t notice my haircut that actually looks better than his’. 

He’s quietly chatting and writing the entire time, only taking time to eat his BBQ ribs and drink some ice tea. He’s drawing floor plans, scribbling names with notes and paragraphs of information.

“Ok, here’s everything you need to know.” Marcus announces proudly and pushes papers towards me. “It’s in groups of work, friends and boyfriends.”

“Great, tell me about my new boyfriends, tricks or ‘friends with benefits’.” 

“Ha, Let’s start with the important people, those closest to me.”

“Do you have a little black book I can use?” I beg.

“Focus! Jason is my closest friend, followed by Mark. We do happy hours, work out, work together, golf, road trips, and watch football on weekends.” Marcus gets very serious.

“I need to have a little ‘fun’ bro.” I whine. 

“Here’s everything you need to be me with them.” He responds with attitude then passes me sheets labeled ‘Friends/Boyfriends’. He has their names listed, how they met, quirks, habits, hobbies, interests.  Then he hands me a ‘Coleman’ sheet.

“For work, Robert Coleman hired me, mentored me and I’m like the son he’s never had. He’s been easing out of the business, letting Adam Trappe assume more responsibility. I’m next in line for Adam’s President  position next.”

Marcus has detailed notes for all managers I’ve been interacting with for weeks. This gives me even more information that only the real Marcus would know. I use this to fire off more questions about my new life and the information just flows from him to me. 

“What about ‘my’ sex life bro? I need a boyfriend or boytoy. You have to have one based on texts and phone calls I’m trying to respond to. Oh, and the pics in your phone, fuckkkk.” I smile at him.

“No serious boyfriend so you’re safe. Chad, who you’ve talk to is latest. We met at an art showing for our common friend Peter. I fucked him in the back office of the gallery the first night and hook up weekly at least. He’s great in the sack.”

“I looked at his pics on your phone. He looks amazing.”

He goes on about Liam, Jim and Dennis, filling in a lot of blanks. Then he talks about Jason and his straight guy friends. About half the information is not new to me but the rest is great. Marcus fills in a lot of personal history about people, things like how they met, jokes they share, likes/dislikes and habits. A lot of the little things Marcus knows, are now part of my identity and strengthen my identity as Marcus Thomas.

“So how is the Clinic treating you? Making progress?” I ask.

“The last two weeks was me shaking, having withdrawals and night sweats. I would kill for a drink right now. There’s group therapy every day before lunch,  then after lunch are the one-on-one sessions. Dinner is at 6pm and the rest of the day is ours. There’s TV and complete library but no phones or internet.”

“What about your lawyer, record and trial? How does that work?” I probe.

“I get a weekly, 10 minute call. He says the 3 months of treatment may be counted as 3 months of jail time but I could still get real jail time of up to 5 years.”

“What about you driving? You’ll have a record.”

“It’s too early to know. I’m hoping I do 3 months here, have limited driving rights and no jail time. He’s also working on getting the arrest record expunged.”

“You have a lot riding on this lawyer, do you want me to contact him?”

“No, but check my mail for any of his bills and pay them. My bank login information is here, but it should be saved on my iMac.”

“What if I’m caught?” Not that I would but just want to play up my concern.

“Are you joking? You won’t be. With all this information and your looks, you’ll pull off my identity easily. Have fun at work Marcus.” He hands over his life to me.

I drop Marcus off but don’t go inside. It’s another 6 hour drive home with a quick stop in Ann Arbor to change into Marcus for another month. The entire drive home my mind is spinning with what just happened. My brother has turned over his life to me and I don’t have to worry about the last two weeks. Once I’ve changed back into my ‘Marcus’ outfit and driving the BMW, I only think of myself as him. I start thinking of work and upcoming projects, working out with Jason and lunch at Merit using my new membership.

The Better Marcus

The Ballis Automotive rebranding campaign kicked off a few weeks ago to rave reviews. Robert storms into my office all excited because we’ve been nominated for a number of Association of National Advertisers B2 awards. Just to be nominated is a huge honor even if you don’t win. The Ballis campaign was nominated for the categories of ‘Web Presence’, ‘Branding’, ‘Employer Branding’ and ‘Product Relaunch’. The B2 award gala will be held at the end of the month, at the Sheraton Grand which is less than a mile from our office. 

Marcus may have done the initial work on the overall proposal, but I’m the one who reworked the website and branding portions at the last minute. I’ve always been the more creative one. Robert is convinced this will catapult Coleman to the top for Chicago marketing. When Robert leaves, I look out the window, overlooking Michigan avenue and look at myself in the reflection. A deep sense of accomplishment and satisfaction hits me—I’m a better Marcus for sure.

“Is your head swollen? Will it fit through the door?” Jason comes running into my office after hearing the ANA news. 

“No, you better call building maintenance so they can enlarge the door so I can get out.” I turn around, he high fives me and I smack the back of his head for his comment.

“Ouch, you fucker! We’re heading up to 95th.”

“For sure, just give me a few minutes to finish up here. I’ll meet you there.”

I finish up some emails, then think about Marcus getting all the credit for my hard work. He’d have no problem sitting here with the award on the desk, showing it off, bragging while not having a clue what went into it. Thinking of this, just pisses me off. I’m not going to let him do this, he’s been taking things from me our entire life.

Happy hour is insane and even Jason notices I’m back to drinking ‘like a ho’. The whole office is here including Robert and Adam. Robert pulls me, Gary,  and Adam aside to let us know that we have a table for the black tie gala, we’re all attending in a few weeks and it’s black tie. It’s a huge celebration for just the simple nominations. 

I text Chad and he joins us then drives me back to his place for the night. This helps a lot since, like Jason, I had no clue where he lives. Sex with him is great. I don’t even mind him being a screamer, especially when he’s screaming out ‘Marcus’. Fucking him as Marcus is such a turn on for me, that I usually explode upon hearing my new name. I figured out, based on emails that Marcus dated him for about 6 weeks, and I’ve been at it for 4 weeks. Like everyone else I interact with, he’s clueless to the switch. 

Two weeks later ‘team Coleman’, as we’re now calling ourselves, is at the Gala dressed to the nines. I spent about $9,000 at Tom Ford for a new Tuxedo and accessories. There is a Brooks Brothers tuxedo in the back of my closet but wearing it would be out of character for Marcus. It was a brilliant night for Coleman and Ballis, winning ‘Web Presence, Employer Branding and Branding’—all areas that I created, not Marcus. Robert hands me one of the awards and has me talk about the web presence concept. Chad films it for my Instagram. We go back to my place to celebrate with more sex but I leave early for my lunch with my brother tomorrow in Cleveland.

The next morning I spend hours at the DMV getting my new Illinois drivers license. I walk in as Michael Thomas from Ann Arbor, Michigan and walk out as Marcus Thomas of Chicago Illinois. I managed to find the same shirt  Marcus used for his license, and wore it for my new pic. Putting both side by side, the only difference is the license number itself. At home I log into all of my accounts, like banking, work, travel and update them with my new drivers license number. My old wallet and my brother’s license are locked in my safe and I change the passcode. The new driver’s license replaces the old one like i’ve replaced Marcus.

I’m shamelessly using ‘my’ Instagram, Facebook, Snapchat and TikTok just like my brother. Whether I’m at happy hour, the gym or out on a date, I’m posting and bragging about my life. 

Visit Number Two

Six weeks have passed since my brother went into rehab and I assumed his identity and life. I’m firmly in place as Marcus, acquiring his friends and career—basically his entire life is now mine. I’m a better version of Marcus Thomas. This time I don’t change my clothes or identity to visit him. On purpose, I’m in one of his favorite outfits, that was well documented on his Instagram.  I’m there early and he’s waiting in the lobby for me. He jumps up when he sees me.

“Michael, you’re early.” Using a name I haven’t responded to in weeks.

“Come on bro, let’s go, I’m starving.” I sign him out with the front desk.

We jump into the car and head to the Sonny’s again. I bring in my briefcase and computer into restaurant with me, to have him help me with some account information. The hostess looks at us oddly, probably wondering if we’re twins. Marcus looks horrible with an overgrown stubble and long hair while I’m the epitome of Marcus Thomas. 

“Wow, don’t you look all spiffy in my clothes.” Marcus stares at me. 

“Yeah, I didn’t realize you were such a fashionista but I’m starting to appreciate it. You approve of my outfit?” I adjust my sleeves in my suit coat. 

“Ah yeah, because it’s one of my favorite outfits—Hugo Boss, my Omega watch and even my Prada shoes. Why so dressed up?” He notices the details.

“Yeah, I saw it on ‘my’ Instagram and loved it.” I’m wearing his Hugo Boss tan glen plaid suit with wine color dress shirt, and Prada lace up derbies. I duplicated it exactly from his pics on Instagram. “I thought I’d show you how much I look like you with hair done, in one of your outfits you. Don’t worry, I take off the jacket and hang it in the car while driving.” 

“Just make yourself at home, in my home and my life.”

“Actually it’s my life Michael. Your friends and coworkers haven’t noticed anything different about me. It’s been really easy being Marcus.” I smile at him, giving him my identity and he doesn’t say a word. 

“I can see why. You’re the spitting image of me, even the hair now.” He acknowledges. 

“Yeah I had to get a haircut of course. Learning your job, friends and life was challenging but I’m you.”

“What about Chad?” He questions.

“Oh my god, I’ve had more sex as you than I had in the past year. You’re still dating Chad and Liam visited. They’re both incredible in bed.” I grin devilishly at him.”

“You’ve slept with both of them?”

“Yeah, Liam was in town for work, called and we had lunch, then sex but he’s back in Detroit. I’ve been ’dating’ Chad regularly and he’s blast too.”

“Wow you have replaced me. I’m so horny and jealous. They didn’t notice a difference?”

“Only that I was better in bed!” I boast.

“Oh shut the fuck up!”

“So how is it going with rehab? Making progress?” I ask sincerely. 

“I would give you a million dollars for a beer right now. I finally started sleeping normally but the cravings don’t end. The other day I had an incident with my doctor when I rejected some pills to calm me down. I threw the bottle in a fit and pills flew across the room. They ended up injecting me with a needle instead and I was out for 12 hours.”

“I never noticed your drinking issue. In college you were no different than anybody else.”

“It happened after college with the job, daily happy hours and binge drinking.”

“I can relate now because Jason wants to do the 95th every night.”

“How is he doing? I miss hanging out with him.” Marcus sadly asks.

“He’s doing great, seeing a girl he met at a football game. He claims she’s the one.”

“Ha, yeah he says that with every new girl. I give it 4 weeks max.” He laughs a little.

“What’s the lawyer saying?” I ask seriously.

“It’s not good.” He’s down again. “He’s trying but not having any luck. He also says I have ‘at least’ three months here, that it could be longer.”

“Jail time?”

“3 to 7 years.” He says soberly.

“Fuck bro! Fuck!!” I was a little loud and some people heard me.

“Yep, I’m fucked for sure. Even 3 years in jail will kill me.”

“I’m sorry bro. I don’t know what to say.” I respond very quietly.

“It’s out of my control, nothing I can do. I just have to hope my lawyer is worth all the money I’m paying him. I don’t want to think about it.” Marcus sighs in defeat. “How is my life, you certainly have my look nailed.” 

“The first few weeks were sketchy, learning your job, habits and people who know you. You didn’t mention your gym membership and working out with Jason. He noticed that when I missed our ‘normal’ workout. Then I messed up when I was clueless about Nikomahs Casino, your first major success.”

“But has anyone discovered you, questioned you?”

“Look at me.” I lean back in the chair and run my hand through my hair in a typical Marcus gesture. “If our parents couldn’t tell us apart, do you think your friends can? They don’t even know you have a twin, so why would they think I’m anyone but you?”

“That is amazing but I shouldn’t be surprised, it was alway easy for us to swap.”

“I’m you, living your life and loving it. I’m doing one hell of a job.”

“No glitches or problems with people or issues?”

“Not a single person has questioned my identity but there has been some slip ups on my part. The worst moment was my lack of knowledge about the changes to the Nikomahs casino account over the past 6 years, that ‘I’ personally handle. I was so embarrassed but Robert jumped in and filled in the blanks. Afterwards he pulled me aside and asked what’s wrong, that I was not myself. I pulled the ‘mom isn’t well and I can’t focus. It seemed to work but that night I spent hours in the office reviewing every document and email about it.” I confess but lie. 

“You can’t possibly know my career history or little details.”

“That’s why you’re going to fill me in on the details. You’re going to fill in the blanks of your life for me.” I pull out his computer from his briefcase. 

“Sure, you’ve got 6 more weeks to cover for me.”

“I have to ask…what if you go to jail? What do I do?”

“I don’t know. Resign my job, sell my condo and put everything in storage? Make up some lie, like I’m starting my own business and moving to London.”

“Throw everything away? What if I keep your identity? Robert loves you like a son, and Jason loves you like a brother. They’d be devastated.” I toss it out there to see his reaction.

He gets pissed at me for saying it, I see his anger. “Then fucking live my life, you’ve always been jealous of me. You can be me! It’s the opportunity you’ve been waiting for.”

“Well, I hate to tell you this but I’m definitely doing a better job of it.” I get cocky back with him. 

“Yeah right, your vast experience of job hopping and creating dinky webpages really qualifies you for my job. Looking like me and actually being me, are two different things.”

“Fuck you. I’m crushing it as you. Robert has noticed a positive change in you since I cut back drinking and even Jason has admitted it’s time for us to drink less.” I fire back at him. 

“Fuck you, you may be sitting at my desk, doing my job but you’re not me.”

I open up my acceptance speech video from last night and shove his iPhone in his hand. “I’m actually better than you after only one month. Watch the new Marcus Thomas, ANA B2 award winner.”

He’s just watching in silence, mouth open in disbelief. “You accepted my award for Ballis?”

“No, it’s my award for my work. The meeting was delayed and I reworked about 75% of your proposal, which are what the awards were for.” I boast, he has nothing to say after that.

I open my notebook, pull up the Ballis proposal and shove it towards him. He scrolls through the entire thing, totally silent again. 

“So you built on top of what I created. If I had more time, I would have done even better.” He proclaims after reviewing the presentation.

“Oh, give me a fucking break. Your proposal put me to sleep the first time I went through it. Gary and Adam loved my new concept and Ballis was onboard before the meeting ended. Coleman never saw that happen. You’re welcome.” 

“I’m not thanking you for shit.” People heard that. He’s going thru his social media on ‘my’ iPhone stunned. “You’re living my life.”

“Like my new Tuxedo? It’s Tom Ford. I didn’t want to wear ‘my’ old Brooks Brothers tuxedo I wore for Mark’s wedding.”

“What did that cost me?” He snidely questions.

“Michael, not your concern little bro. I wanted to look my best for my 15 minutes of fame.” 

"My 15 minutes of fame!" He barks again.

“Like I said, I’m being you, including your stupid TikTok and Instagram. It’s what you wanted and it’s exhausting being a narcissist, keeping your ‘fans’ happy.” Actually I’m enjoying the attention and comments but I’m not letting him know. 

“Your TikToks are great and I can’t tell the difference in our posts and pics.” He calms down.

“Duh! We’re twins, you do realize that? You better hope I just don’t walk away tomorrow from your life. You’ll be screwed career wise. You’ll be designing dinky websites and taking crappy jobs.”

“You’d never do that, my life is so much better than your’s and you know it. You should be thanking me.”

“Try me. I’m the one doing you a huge favor, remember that!” I threaten him.

I’m in charge after that and we spend hours reviewing files and his work history. He doesn’t hesitate to answer any of my questions. After some quick shopping for clothes for him at Dick’s Sporting Goods, I drop him off at the entrance and head home. The long drive home gives me time for reflect on my new life. I'm really enjoying everything about it. After only 6 weeks, I don’t want to give it up. 

More Control

I'm living life exactly as Marcus would. The only difference is that I drink half as much as him. I love hanging with Jason and Mark, golfing, playing basketball and working out with them. I've slipped easily into his circle of friends. There's been a few incidences where I didn't quite catch a joke or references but they're usually drunk and don't notice. In Ann Arbor, I had work friends but outside of that I was a loaner, occasionally dating but nothing ever serious.

Other aspects of his life have fallen into place. I keep his appointment for a haircut with Steve at Halo, a hair salon not far from my place. It was a combination wash, haircut, manicure, eyebrow trim and hand job! As I was leaning back over the sink, he’s massaging both my heads at the same time. I’m wasn’t sure how to react but he whispers in my ear that he gets off at 8pm and he’d get me off by midnight if I pick him up. I play it cool as he makes out with me at the same time.

When I leave Halo, I post my shocked looked on Instagram. I pick him up at 8, take him out to eat, then back to my place. This is a regular haircut for my brother since he leads me back to my bedroom, wraps a condom from my drawer on me and rides it all night long. Marcus’ sex life is way better than mine and Steve doesn’t notice a difference just like Chad and Liam. I call Jason to apologize for blowing off Side Tracks but as soon as I say ‘haircut’, he calls me a slut and tells me how jealous he is. I’m grateful to Steve for the sex and for tidying up grooming details like my eyebrows  and cuticles.

I'm officially 'exclusive' with Chad but having too much fun with all this new attention. I’ve scheduled a trip to Detroit for a weekend with Liam. What can I say? He’s tight, fun and just my type. Chad thinks I'm going to a marketing conference in Detroit. Chad is great eye candy for my management to see me with and he’s as fun as Liam in bed. He’s been dating me longer than he did my brother but I don't see much of a future with him. Chad adds credibility to me as Marcus and I still explode when he screams out 'Marcus' as I ram his tight hole. The sex is awesome.

My job is going so well. I believe, no, I know I'm being groomed to be president, taking over Adam's spot. At least once a week, I do lunch with Adam and Robert where we talk about the future of Coleman and of Robert stepping back. They've both notice a change for the better in me, saying I'm more focused, more of a leader and creative.

Financially, I'm spending more than Marcus normally would but I did need a new tuxedo for the ANA, and joining the Merit Club wasn't cheap but it is a legit business expense for my taxes. I met with my Fidelity advisor, Andrew Gingerich, which is something Marcus never did in person, and never took an interest in his money. Good old Marcus, as usual, he only cared that he was making money. My advisor was happy to meet with me and help with diversifying my portfolio. In just the last month, my costs have dropped while my returns have increased significantly. 

One thing no one at Coleman noticed about the old Marcus is his embezzling of corporate funds over the years. We're talking about $500,000 per year that magically moved from marketing to his own personal Fidelity checking account via a Cayman account. No wonder his could just plop down $120,000 for his new BMW and $30,000 for his Merit Club membership. My brother would have eventually been caught and really ended up in jail. It took a while to unravel the money trail but then I returned it to Coleman, making sure it looks like a simple accounting error. My net worth has dropped by about $2m but more importantly, I have leverage over my brother.

Visit Number Three

It’s going to be a day of reckoning for my brother. I’ve been him for 10 weeks, making this our longest identity swap and also a lot more complex than when we were in college. I pick him up and head to our usual Sonny’s BBQ. Marcus doesn’t say a word during the short drive and he looks good but not happy at all.

“So what’s with the silence?” I carefully ask.

“Oh nothing really, just another month of rehab followed by 3 to 7 years in jail.”

“What? What the hell happened?”

“My worthless lawyer and a judge, with a stick up his ass for 4th time offenders.”

“Wow, I didn’t expect jail time for you. Can you appeal it?”

“Yes, and I could get parole in a few years.”

“When do you go to jail?”

“In about two weeks.”

In a small way, I feel bad for him then I think of his previous incidents, and him embezzling from his employer who adores him. He had it made financially just on his salary alone with no need to steal a penny. After a few fleeting thoughts like that, reality comes back and I think he’s not getting close to what he deserves. I’m also thrilled at the thought of keeping his life for myself.

“So you go straight to jail? No probation, no time in between?”

“The police will pick me up right here, the prison is in Jackson, Michigan. It’s for white collar criminals and addiction with continuing counseling.”

“Fuck man, fuck! What are you going to do?” I vent.

“How about we swap places and you do me a little favor.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds like a plan, especially with that nice ankle bracelet you’re wearing. Do you still have urges to drink?”

“In all honesty, after I got the news of jail time, I wished I was at the 95th, downing shots with Jason.”

“Well, it’s quite a lot to accept. That’s normal.”

“You’ll probably be let out early. It’s not like you killed someone.”

“Yeah, my lawyer agrees with you on that, but still, three years in jail.”

“What about your life and job?”

“Just quit my job, pack everything up and put it in storage.” He says it too easily.

“Throw it all away?”

“Yeah and when I get out, I’ll be doing websites and marketing for ‘Sammy’s Garage’ in Ann Arbor like you.” He laughs at his put down.

“Maybe you will be, in fact, you probably will, but I won’t. I’ve grown accustom to your life.”

“You’re moving to a big city and getting a real job? Oh yeah, I so see that happening.” He mocks me. 

“Already a done deal bro, not giving it up.”

“Are you saying, you’re keeping my life?”

“Why not? I’m the better Marcus, my coworker Adam says I’ll be promoted to his spot in a few months when Robert retires. Look at me bro, I’m you without the drinking problem. I’m set for life—great salary, boyfriends, great friends, awesome condo and hot car.”

“Why not? Why not? Are you fucking insane? First, it’s not your life, it’s mine. Second, I won’t let you do it.”

“I’ve been thinking about this and it makes complete sense. I need a job, I’m perfect for it and I’m a natural. No one has a clue I’m not you, thanks to my looks and your coaching.”

“I’ll have my lawyer make sure you don’t, you’ll go to jail for fraud. I’ll claim I had no clue what you were doing.”

“I don’t think so bro, unless you want to spend more time in jail for embezzling funds.”

“What?” He looks shocked.

“I know you have millions hidden in accounts all around the world. I bet Coleman would love to know how you screwed them.”

“How did you find out?”

“Oh come on bro, I’m not stupid. I looked at your tax returns and even if you saved every penny,  you’d be lucky to have $3m in the bank. Then there’s mysterious deposits from and to an account in the Caymans. It took a little sleuthing but with my degree in finance, it started to make sense.  Then when ‘my’ buddy Javier called from the Caymans, it all fell into place.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I told you, I’m taking over your life. As you mentioned, it’s pretty sweet, I’m good at it and you were right, I was a little jealous.”

“You fucking bastard.” He curses under his breath.

“Calm down bro, it’s not too bad. You can’t use it, you won’t need it for a few years. It’s going to be our little secret from now on. Oh and it’s permanent too, so even when you do get out, don’t come asking for your life back.”

“You won’t get away with this.”

“I have gotten away with this for months now. By the way, if something happens to me, I’ve made arrangements to blow this wide open and you will be back in jail. Also, Javier is no longer helping me, I put an end to your scheme.” His mouth is hanging up.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this to your own brother.”

“Ha! Seriously, you’re playing the brother card? My brother who calls once or twice a year, who I haven’t seen in years and who keeps me secret. Nice try.” I laugh and mock him.

Marcus just sits there saying nothing, staring at his ribs. I can see he’s seething and thinking of his options. He’s just got to realize it’s checkmate and accept it.

“Bro, I’m doing you a huge favor. Your reputation remains intact and it’s actually gotten better with me in charge. I’m now well known in the marketing world. It’s best for both of us but it’s only fair that I benefit the most. When you get out, I’ll be here to help you get on your feet, hell, I’ll give your plenty of start up money and as me, you can create your own company even. You’ve got time to plan it.”

“Fine!” He blurts out defeated.

“Bro, I’ll come see you in prison, keep you updated on things. You’ll be fine, we’ll both be fine.”

We finish our lunch and he doesn’t say a word the entire drive back. We pull up front, I walk him in and give him a hug. 

“Cya bro.” Are my last words to him. I take my time driving back to my new life in Chicago.

THE END

[qqueenofhades]

Fake dating AU for the idiot Heartrender Husbands! I beg of you!

As ever, I am preposterously easy to enable, and since they will eventually make an appearance in A Phantom in Enchanting Light, I decided to write their backstory for that verse. Also, “fake dating but it’s only fake because they’re both idiots” is an Aesthetic. I love them.

Moscow, 2010

The guy is most definitely late. Fedyor got here early – probably too early, since they’re supposed to meet at eleven and he arrived by quarter past ten – but it’s now 11:08 and still no sign of him. Fedyor has claimed a corner table in the coffee shop just off Red Square with its splendid old tsarist-era décor, surrounded by the murmur of conversation and clicking laptop keys as his fellow Muscovites get on with their daily lives. The rule is fifteen minutes, yes? If Ivan Sakharov doesn’t show up in another seven, Fedyor is free to bail. But it’s been so long, and Nadia, the mutual friend responsible for this set-up, has begged Fedyor to give him a chance. And since it is understandably difficult to date as a gay man in Russia, Fedyor’s patience must be tested longer than usual. He sips his flat white and glances at the door again. Still no Ivan.

Fedyor opens his phone and checks the photo that Nadia sent him, trying to decide if this man is attractive enough to compensate for his tardiness. It’s hard to tell. It is 11:14, and he is absolutely about to pack up and leave by no later than 11:25, when a tall, grim-faced man in a red windbreaker strides in. He stops short, glances around, spots Fedyor, and powers over with such single-minded determination that Fedyor fears he’s about to be arrested. “Hello,” he says curtly. “I am Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov. I believe you are waiting for me?”

“Ah – ? I am Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, yes,” he manages, offering a hand, which Ivan crushes in a Terminator grip. “It’s – nice to meet you?”

Ivan snorts, pulls out the other chair, and drapes his jacket over it, then orders a small plain coffee (black like his soul, evidently). Then he returns, sits down, and claps his hands as if he is calling a misbehaving class to attention. “Where are you from?” he barks. “How long have you lived in Moscow?!”

Fedyor continues to gape. He’s genuinely not sure if this is Ivan attempting to get to know him on speed-run, or if he’s being interrogated by a FSB agent who can’t even act for two seconds like he’s not. It’s ominously possible. Dmitry Medvedev is the president and there are hopes that there might be a social liberalization, but the Orthodox patriarchs and the far right have been increasingly agitating against Russia’s embattled LGBTQ community, and things could just as easily get worse. Is this a setup or a setup? Nadia would never knowingly put him in a dangerous situation, of course, but maybe she was likewise fooled. You’d think that if this was a sting, they could have found a guy who was actually capable of pretending to be on a date, but maybe that’s the point? What the hell is going on here?

Fedyor opens his mouth, then shuts it. As a matter of fact, he is originally from Nizhny Novgorod, but moved to Moscow for university and has lived here for seven years, but if Ivan is with the FSB, he probably already knows that. Is this a trick? Is Ivan trying to match him to some police intelligence file or see if he’s a liar? Fedyor is seriously about to get up and walk out (or maybe sprint out) when Ivan, perhaps realizing that he’s blowing this to a heretofore unprecedented degree, says, “Sorry. I am from Krasnoyarsk. I enjoy rugby.”

Of course he likes rugby if he’s from Krasnoyarsk. This is a disaster. “Uh, what side?”

“Krasny Yar,” says Ivan, in the tone of a man about to stand up and belt out the fight song. “I also enjoy football. Yenisey Krasnoyarsk. Though I have begun supporting Lokomotiv since I came to Moscow. That was five years ago.”

So, he’s definitely a hooligan. Fedyor does his best to keep smiling. In the flesh, Ivan is definitely not unattractive. His hair is crisp and brown, there are glints of hazel in his eyes, and he has that hard, chiseled handsomeness that Fedyor always ends up getting suckered into. Except for the fact that he is lively, extroverted, and outgoing, likes clubbing and mingling and making friends, and this man does not appear to have ever heard of a single one of those things. What was Nadia thinking? It’s not like her to whiff this badly. Or did she have to be so circumspect in asking Ivan if he would like to meet Fedyor that, even if he’s not an undercover cop, he is in fact clueless about the true nature of this social engagement? Thinks it’s guys being pals?

“Did you have somewhere you were coming from earlier?” Fedyor asks, after another excruciating silence. “Is that why you were – ?”

“My apologies. The bus was late. I am normally very punctual.” Ivan scowls ferociously, as if the bus ever dares to do such a thing again, he will personally murder it. “What hobbies do you enjoy, Fedyor Mikhailovich?”

“I think you can call me Fedyor, yes?” They are clearly nowhere near “Fedya” and “Vanya” just yet, but “Fedyor Mikhailovich” always makes Fedyor look around warily for his grumpiest professor at MSU. He tries to think of subtle conversational gambits to find out what Ivan knows, without being obvious. Oh God, he really should just cut his losses, but something – perhaps the pathetic conviction that even a terrible date is better than no date at all – keeps him in his seat. Presuming that he does get out of here alive, he will call up Nadia straightaway and ask her many, many questions, mostly consisting of Why??! “Well,” Fedyor says at last. “I like having fun?”

“I also enjoy fun,” Ivan says, stone-faced. “I am very funny.”

Russian humor is normally extremely deadpan, to the point that Fedyor does wonder if Ivan is in fact a diabolical troll genius, but somehow he doesn’t think so. The rest of the conversation proceeds in this fashion, but by the end of an hour, Fedyor still has no idea if he has just been on a date or a trip to the gulag. Ivan gets up, administers another bone-crushing handshake, thanks him for his time, and marches out. Fedyor can practically hear the Red Army Choir thundering some patriotic anthem in his wake.

When he gets home that afternoon, Fedyor is resolved to write off the whole thing, except it was weirdly kind of not as bad as he first thought, maybe, somehow. If nothing else, he’s fascinated by this, like watching a slow-motion train crash. He takes out his phone with the intention of calling Nadia, only to see a text message from an unfamiliar number. When he opens it, it reads, Hello. Your company was agreeable today. Thank you. Perhaps we could meet again next week. Please reply yes or no. The message uses the formal styles of address, and some of the spellings are slightly old-fashioned. He has also signed it – Иван Сахаров – in case there might be some confusion with another Ivan the Terrible at Dating of Fedyor’s recent acquaintance. It is a bit like getting a text from the undertaker.

Fedyor stares at it, insanely tempted to burst out laughing, and finally, just because now he’s too curious to refuse, texts back his gracious acceptance. Still chuckling, he makes dinner, and then, as his phone pings with Ivan’s response, wonders in horror what on earth he is getting himself into.

This is how things continue for the next six weeks. Ivan and Fedyor meet up for the second time, stroll sedately around one of Moscow’s many city parks together, then part ways, and this time it’s Fedyor’s turn to ask if he would like to do it again. He isn’t sure exactly why, except that Ivan is unexpectedly easy to spend time with, and he nods in stoic approval of whatever Fedyor says. Of course, they follow the usual rules of dating which are especially important in Russia: don’t talk about politics, don’t talk about religion, don’t talk about America, don’t talk about Ukraine, don’t talk about Chechnya. From what Fedyor can glean, Ivan’s views tend to the doctrinaire, but he is surprisingly undogmatic, and willing to at least act as if he has an open mind. If he was an FSB agent, it feels like he would have busted Fedyor by now, but maybe he is waiting for him to do something unmistakably gay. That’s not it. Right?

Nadia calls, wanting to know how it’s going, and Fedyor grills her for forty minutes over whether Ivan is a law enforcement plant, a lonely guy looking for a friend, the world’s most method practical joker, or just extremely stupid. Nadia insists that he is actually very nice once you get to know him (HA, thinks Fedyor) and has no particular affection for either the ruling classes or the oligarchs. He can certainly be an acquired taste, but he is not evil.

Forced to accept it, still chickening out of asking Ivan whether he knows they’re dating, wondering if they are dating, if Ivan knows that Fedyor knows they’re dating, if Fedyor only thinks he knows that they are dating while they are not actually dating, or if Ivan thinks he knows that they’re dating while they’re… whatever the fresh-fried fuck is truly happening here, Fedyor trudges off for what has become his almost-weekly rendezvous with Ivan the-Maybe-Not-Quite-So-Terrible. They manage to have a few conversations verging on meaningful, and Fedyor has found himself telling Ivan about his family and Nizhny Novgorod and other such things. Fedyor likes to talk and Ivan likes to listen, though he breaks in now and again with a bone-dry quip. He’s still never what you would call loquacious, or easily forthcoming, but Fedyor likes that. Ivan is tough, complex, enigmatic, guarded, occasionally willing to let down his walls but only if the other person is worth it, and Fedyor finds, to his surprise, that he wants to be worth it. If this is a long-con mind game, he almost doesn’t care. (Almost.)

The problem, however, is that they’ve been seeing each other regularly for a month and a half and they haven’t gotten any closer than walking through a park, outdoors, in full view of their fellow comrades. Even the first time Fedyor takes the plunge and invites Ivan to his apartment, they sit three feet apart on the couch, watching a badly-Russian-subtitled version of Die Hard and providing critical commentary. Fedyor’s English is a lot more fluent than Ivan’s, and his middle-class family, while not exactly wealthy, is definitely better off than Ivan’s hardscrabble clan of miners and loggers in Siberia. That upbringing certainly does explain, to some degree, why Ivan is the way he is, and Fedyor wonders anxiously if Ivan views him as an insufferably posh city boy. Ivan barely finished high school and went straight to working in a Krasnoyarsk aluminum factory. He definitely did not faff around Moscow State University and attend global development seminars in Paris.

Nonetheless, despite their obvious differences, they do get along, and Fedyor is unable to deny the fact that he would, if it’s all right with everyone, like it to be more than that. Of course, finding out if Ivan knows, etc. etc., has been the paramount challenge, and there is no way to find out other than to go for it. Fedyor is 75% sure that they’ve been going steady for two months, but if it’s actually the other 25%, this is going to get awkward in a hurry. Is this essentially a fake relationship, or is it only fake because they’re both idiots?

After having duly commended his soul to God, Fedyor invites Ivan over on Saturday night. He rents a tiny flat by himself since he’s been burned on rooming with strangers, but Ivan is used to it by now, and it doesn’t feel too small with the two of them. Fedyor strains his limited culinary skills to cook supper, probably making his babushka cluck her tongue and sigh in a judgmental fashion back in Nizhny Novgorod, and they sit down and eat in silence for five minutes. Then Fedyor says, “Vanya?”

The consistent use of the diminutive has started sometime in the last few weeks, neither of them remember quite when. Ivan doesn’t correct him. “Yes?”

Fedyor clears his throat. “Do you…” He winces. “Do you… like me?”

“Yes?” Ivan says again, looking confused. “I would not have spent so much time with you if I did not, don’t you think? We are friends.”

“Yes, I know that we’re friends, but…” Fedyor looks at the ceiling. It doesn’t help, so he looks back at Ivan. “Are we… special friends?”

Ivan continues to look blank. “Are we?”

Fedyor resists the urge to tug at his collar, thinking that it’s a damn good thing that he didn’t go with his other idea of just leaning across the table and passionately kissing him. With absolutely no change of tone or expression, Ivan says, “Please explain. Special friends how?”

“Friends who want to…” Fedyor takes a deep breath. “Be… more than friends?”

“How?” Ivan orders again, ruthlessly. “Be clear, Fedya.”

“Are we maybe… boyfriends?” Fedyor’s voice squeaks on the word. “As in… we have feelings for each other that aren’t just… friendly? Like… feelings which are… romantic?”

Ivan continues to stare at him like a statue for several more seconds, and Fedyor contemplates the feasibility of tunneling directly through the floor of his apartment and running all the way to Latvia. Then at last, Ivan throws his head back and – startling Fedyor deeply – breaks into real, genuine, belly laughter, the kind that he has never heard from Ivan before. “Oh my,” he chortles, slapping the table. “Your face. You were sweating bullets.”

“WAIT, WHAT!?!” Fedyor pushes his chair back and stands up with a clatter, incandescently outraged. “Are you – were you messing with me?!!”

“Maybe a little,” Ivan says, wiping his eyes. “You know, all this time, I have not been sure if you are shy or a terrible prude. Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“God’s Mother in Heaven – ” Fedyor feels another prick of disloyalty to his babushka for swearing on the Bogomater, but some people deserve it. All inhibitions forgotten, he charges at Ivan like a runaway train, as Ivan springs out of his own chair in readiness, and starts pounding on his chest in transports of fury. “You are the worst! You are the worst person ever! For two months, what have we been doing?! I have been afraid this whole time that maybe you don’t know what’s really going on, and now – ?! You are the worst!”

Ivan catches Fedyor’s flailing arms, holds them away from him, and picks him up bodily, swinging him around and pushing him against the wall. “Maybe I am just a dumb country boy from Siberia,” he remarks, “but even I am not that stupid, Fedyor Mikhailovich.”

“I hate you,” Fedyor pants, their faces and their mouths an inch away from each other. “Get out of my apartment.”

“Mmm?” Ivan cocks an eyebrow. Then he plants both hands on either side of Fedyor’s head, leans in, and deeply, savagely captures Fedyor’s mouth with his own.

Every remaining vestige of barely rational thought in Fedyor’s head evaporates in screaming shock. He still wants to shove Ivan away, knee him in the balls, or break a chair over his head, but if he did that, he would have to stop kissing him, and he can’t do that either. He moans, Ivan’s tongue takes the opportunity to slip into his mouth, their hands clutch and claw and their legs melt out from under them, they turn away or break contact only to gulp a breath before diving back in again, and the next time Fedyor is aware of anything, they have collapsed on his kitchen floor in a wrung-out, entangled, gasping heap. Ivan says in his ear, “Do you still want me to leave, Fedya?”

“No,” Fedyor manages. “Because now, I am really going to make you suffer.”

Ivan’s smile is dark and full of promise. He pulls back, gets to his feet, and holds out a hand. “Then I’ll meet you in the bedroom.”

(Ivan doesn’t leave Fedyor’s apartment that night. He doesn’t leave it the next night either. At the end of the week, Fedyor calls up Nadia and informs her that he hates her so much, and when they do next see each other, he’ll shake her by both shoulders and then thank her for introducing him to the no-good, truly awful, very bad love of his life.)

[rhosyn-du]

Never make a mess when a total catastrophe will do - Chapter Seven

Pairings: Jimon, past Clace, background Clizzy, a bunch of other minor background pairings Rating: Explicit Art: @cor321​ Beta: @all-thestories-aretrue​ Tags:  Alternate Universe - College/University, fake dating, oh my god they were roommates, friends with benefits, idiots to lovers, pining, miscommunication, holidays, drinking games, mistletoe, symbolically significant Oreos, domestic fluff, brief mention of past character death, Jace’s self-worth issues deserve their own tag Summary: What do you do when you find out your sister is not only dating your ex and love-of-your-high-school-life but is also bringing her home for Christmas? Bring your annoying, hot, annoyingly-hot roommate as your fake boyfriend to show them you're totally fine with it, obviously! There's no possible way this could backfire. Link: AO3 , Tumblr Master Post

Chapter Seven

Jace knew they were in trouble as soon as he saw Maia’s face. The Cheshire Cat had nothing on her grin as she sauntered into Java Jones Monday afternoon, the last of their group to arrive.

She pulled a chair up between Jace and Simon, spun it around with a flourish to sit on it backwards, and flung an arm around both their shoulders. “So, is this the part where I say mazel tov?”

“I am going to literally murder my sister,” Simon announced.

Lily perked up. “Wait, what happened?” She looked between Simon and Jace, then fixed an intense gaze on Maia. “Did one of them finally break down and call you? Why didn’t you assholes mention anything? Who won the bet?”

“Oh, I got a call,” Maia said. “Not from either of these fools, though.”

Jace drained his coffee cup, wishing it were vodka instead. There was clearly no stopping this, so he might as well just face the music now.

“According to Becky, she and her grandmother caught these two in a storage closet about to get down and dirty, and Jace tried to cover up what they were doing by pretending he was down on his knees to propose.”

“Oh no,” Maureen said through a fit of giggles. “That’s terrible.”

Jace flipped her off, which only made her giggle harder.

“Don’t worry,” Maia said, patting Simon’s shoulder, “Becky said she’s like ninety percent sure your grandma didn’t know what was really up.”

“I can hide two bodies,” Simon told her. “I have a van.”

“And my sister is studying forensics,” Jace added. “I bet she’d tell me how to cover up a crime scene if I asked.”

“Every time you bring up your family, I just have more questions,” Lily said.

“Wait,” Maureen said suddenly, holding up her hands. Everyone looked at her. “If you guys are giving each other clandestine blowjobs, does this mean everyone in our friend group has slept together now?”

“Nope,” Bat said, and Jace shook his head.

“Wait, really?” Simon sounded genuinely surprised.

“We thought for sure you two were hooking up back when Simon and I were dating,” Maureen added, looking at Bat. “Jace was over at your place pretty much all the time.”

Jace stared intently into his empty coffee cup. He wasn’t about to tell them he’d spent so much time at Bat’s because he couldn’t quite stomach spending time in his apartment when Simon and Maureen were there, together.

“Jace was over at my place sulking because he got his ass dumped.” Which was the excuse Jace had given him. “He swore me to secrecy because he didn’t want you guys giving him shit for getting his heart broken.”

“You seem to be a little confused about the whole concept of secrecy, though,” Jace said.

“You could’ve told us,” Maureen said, earnest and sympathetic. “We wouldn’t tease you about something if you were really hurting.”

“Well, I’d tease you a little,” Lily said.

“You had your heart broken?” Simon’s voice was soft, and when Jace met his eyes, he found a confused curiosity there. Which of course there would be, Jace realized, given the conversation they’d had on the drive home, where he’d admitted that he hadn’t been serious about anyone since Clary.

“I wasn’t heartbroken,” Jace said, putting as much disdain as he could manage into the word. “Sasha just had some very strong opinions when I told her I didn’t want to get serious, and I kind of wanted to lay low for a while after.” The part about Sasha wasn’t even a lie.

“Oh,” Lily said, dragging the word out with relish. “You were embarrassed because she told you off in public.”

Bat looked skeptical. “You really expect me to believe you spent three weeks curled up on my couch eating Double Stuf Oreos because your ego was bruised?”

“Of course not.” Jace grinned at him. “That was because you’re a sucker who kept buying me Double Stuf Oreos.”

Maia smacked his arm hard enough to sting. “No taking advantage of Bat’s kind and generous spirit.”

Bat looked unconvinced. “Well, next time you decide to hide out at my place because you definitely didn’t get your heart broken, you’re on your own for Oreos.”

Simon was still watching him. “I would’ve shared my Oreos if I knew you needed them.” His tone was far too serious for a conversation about Oreos. Like maybe he knew Jace was hiding something. Like maybe he suspected what Jace was hiding.

Jace flashed him a shit-eating grin. “I hope you know I’m taking that as an invitation to steal your Oreos whenever I want from now on.”

“Dude, you can’t just steal Oreos!” Maureen protested. “That’s like rule number two of the roommate code.”

“What’s rule number one?” Bat asked.

“Booze,” Maureen and Lily answered in unison.

“And for everyone who keeps asking how we managed to share a dorm and not murder each other freshman year,” Lily continued, “this is the answer.”

“Truth,” Maureen agreed.

This sparked a lively debate about what did and did not constitute violations of roommate code that lasted until Jace had to leave for his evening class.

Two days later, a package of Double Stuf Oreos appeared on Jace’s desk. He didn’t bring them up, and neither did Simon.

~~~

Jace wasn’t sure exactly how they started studying together on the couch instead of their separate rooms. It might have been that one group study session where everyone else had to bail early. But somewhere along the line, he’d started dragging his textbooks and laptop out to the living room any time he needed to get work done. Half the time, he found Simon already there, and the times he didn’t, Simon usually joined him pretty soon after.

And it was…nice. Comfortable in a way Jace tried not to think about. Just another item on his ever-growing list of things not to think about. Conveniently, his assigned paper on the Thirty Years’ War didn’t leave room for thinking about much of anything else.

Which was probably why it took him so long to notice on this particular evening that he and Simon had somehow migrated from their usual spots at either end of the couch to sharing its center. And once he did notice, all thoughts of the Second Defenestration of Prague went out the window, the warmth of Simon’s leg against his own and occasional bump of their shoulders as they worked driving him to distraction.

It was stupid, really. It wasn’t like they never touched. In fact, Jace would bet they’d spent more of their time together over the past few months touching than not, in increasingly creative ways.

But they didn’t touch like this, without teasing or seduction or intent. It made Jace feel twitchy. Restless. There was a part of him that wanted to sink into it, to let the warmth of Simon’s touch seep under his skin. But a far greater part was telling him to pull away, to retreat back to his end of the couch. Or maybe to turn and press Simon back into the couch cushions and turn this into something far more familiar. Something safer.

“Hey,” Simon said, making Jace flinch in surprise. If Simon noticed, he didn’t let on. “I was gonna make stroganoff for dinner tonight, and I’m pretty ready for a break. Any chance I could talk you into slicing mushrooms for me while I start on the beef?”

It took Jace several seconds to process the question, so far from what he’d been thinking. “Um. Yeah. Sure, sounds good.”

Once they made their way to the kitchen, Jace was grateful to be back on familiar ground. They didn’t cook together often—didn’t have much time for cooking at all, really—but they’d done it a handful of times, and they worked well together in a kitchen, which was not something Jace could say about most of his friends, or his family.

It was also, he realized as he stood next to Simon at the stove, boiling egg noodles while Simon stirred the roux, acutely domestic. It was another addition to the list of things he wasn’t going to think about.

When they returned to the living room, bowls of saucy noodles and beef in hand, Simon sat right back down in the middle of the couch, where he’d been before they got up to make dinner. Jace hesitated only an instant before reclaiming his spot next to him. Simon flashed him a quick smile before pulling his financial analytics textbook over to balance precariously on his knee so he could read while he ate. Jace tore his gaze away, turning his attention half-heartedly back to his notes.

By the time he finished eating, Jace had realized two very important things. First, he needed to make another trip to the library if he wanted to have enough sources to back up his thesis. Second, it would be far too easy to get used to nights like tonight, and that wasn’t something he could allow himself to do. Before he could make himself do something about it, though, Simon shifted, half-turning to pull his knees up onto the couch and letting his head rest back against Jace’s shoulder.

“This okay? The light’s better like this.”

Jace took maybe a second too long to answer. “It’s fine.”

He placed his empty bowl on the coffee table—gingerly, so as not to jostle Simon—and returned to his reading. When he shifted a few minutes later, tossing one arm over the back of the couch and letting Simon rest against his chest, it was just a matter of comfort, really. Letting his hand come to rest on Simon’s chest, fingers absently toying with the neckline of his shirt, was not, but Simon didn’t object.

When his fingers encountered skin-warm metal, it took Jace several seconds to realize it. By the time he did, his fingers had already followed the line of the chain down to the center of Simon’s chest, where the object that hung from it rested beneath his t-shirt. He recognized its shape at the same time he felt Simon go unnaturally still.

“I didn’t want to lose it,” Simon said in a rush.

Jace traced the shape of the ring through Simon’s shirt. His ring. “It’s a good place to keep it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jace agreed, flattening his hand against Simon’s chest. The ring pressed into his palm, the telltale beat of Simon’s heart thrumming behind it. He wondered if his own were beating just as fast.

“You know,” he said slowly, “Alec is getting married next month.”

Simon relaxed against him with a soft huff of laughter. “Yeah, I think I heard something about that in the approximately five hundred phone calls you’ve had in the last couple weeks.”

“A best man’s work is never done, apparently.” He took a breath, let it out. “But, I was thinking, you should come with me.”

Simon craned his neck to look at him. “Like, to play your boyfriend again, or…?”

As my date. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn’t force the words past his lips. He wasn’t ready to risk that he might be reading this wrong. He’d done it before, and for reasons he couldn’t put his finger on, it felt so much more dangerous now.

“I mean, it would be weird if you didn’t, right?” he said instead. “Since my entire family thinks we’re together still.”

“Right.” Simon looked back at the book in his lap, but he didn’t make any move to pull away. Jace could almost imagine he sounded disappointed. “Totally weird. I think Clary’s expecting me to be there, anyway.”

“Cool. I’ll RSVP you as my plus-one.”

Simon made a soft noise of affirmation and returned to his reading. Jace tried to go back to his, but he found himself unable to concentrate. After reading the same paragraph five times and not retaining a single word of it, he gave up and let his head loll against the back of the couch, cheek resting lightly against the top of Simon’s head. He closed his eyes and let his mind drift.

Jace was pulled out of sleep sometime later by gentle fingers stroking through his hair. He scrunched up his face and made an unhappy noise; he wasn’t ready to be awake.

“If you’re going to sleep, you should go to bed.”

Jace cracked an eye open to find Simon watching him with a fond smile. Still half-asleep, it was easy to smile back, something warm and soft settling in his chest. Sometime while he slept, they’d shifted again so Simon was leaning back against the arm of the couch with Jace sprawled half on top of him. Simon’s books were stacked neatly on the coffee table. Jace wondered how long they’d been there.

“‘M comfy.”

Simon chuckled. “You won’t be if you stay here all night and wake up with a sore back.”

Jace thought that spending the night with Simon as his pillow might be worth waking up with a sore back, but the fog of sleep had lifted enough that the feeling of impending danger was returning. He pushed himself up to sitting and immediately missed Simon’s warmth.

“I think I’m a couple decades away from waking up with a sore back from one night spent on the couch.”

He reached for his dirty bowl, still sitting on the table, but Simon stopped him with a hand on his arm.

“Leave it. You’re tired; I’ve got the dishes.”

Jace frowned at him.

“Go to bed,” Simon insisted with a laugh. “You’re obviously exhausted.”

It was the laugh that got him. The way Simon’s eyes crinkled at the corners. The way he always smiled wide enough to show teeth. The way it never failed to tug at something inside Jace, urging him to smile back no matter how much he might resist it. Except this time it was less of a tug than a wrench that threatened to break him wide open.

Jace remembered, with sudden, vivid clarity, that drunken conversation he’d had with Maia last year. The one he tried to forget ever happened.

They’d all be hanging out at Maia’s new apartment, a tiny studio that wasn’t really big enough to host a six-person housewarming party, but they’d made it work because she was so proud of finally making good enough tips she could afford to live in her own place off campus.

Everyone but Jace had early morning classes that semester, so he’d stayed behind to keep the party going with Maia while the others had headed home. Jace didn’t remember how many shots it had taken for him to start complaining about Simon’s propensity for wandering around the apartment in only a towel, but he absolutely remembered Maia’s knowing grin.

“Someone’s got a crush.”

“It’s not a crush,” Jace had insisted. “He’s just annoyingly hot.” If he’d been sober, he wouldn’t have spoken the next words. He wouldn’t have even let himself think them. “And I bet he’d be stupidly easy to fall in love with, too.”

And then Maia had laughed so hard she’d fallen over onto her cheap, beige carpet that still smelled faintly of new plastic while Jace was left to deal with the slowly dawning realization of what he’d just said.

“Before you fall asleep again,” Simon prompted, snapping Jace’s mind back to the present. Where Simon was smiling at him with an indisputable fondness that made Jace feel raw and exposed.

“Right,” Jace said, practically jumping up from the couch. “Bed. Thanks. For,” he waved his hand vaguely, “dishes and whatever.”

“No problem,” Simon said, bemused. “Sleep well.”

Jace understood what that feeling of danger was about now. It seemed there was some truth to that old adage about finding answers at the bottom of a bottle; it had been so easy, he wasn’t even sure when he’d fallen in love.

~~~

“You’re sure this is a classic?” Jace eyed the grainy opening shots of the movie playing on Simon’s laptop with some skepticism.

They normally did movie night out in the living room, on the flat-screen TV that had probably cost more than every other piece of furniture in their apartment combined, but Simon insisted a film this old would look ridiculous on a large HD screen. Considering how bad it looked even on Simon’s old laptop, it was probably the right call. And Jace wasn’t going to complain about having to squish together on Simon’s bed so they could both see the screen, even if that did make it feel perilously close to being a date.

“Cult classic,” Simon corrected. “Sorority Babes in the Slimeball Bowl-O-Rama is, like, peak so-bad-it’s-good 80’s horror comedy. And they’re making a sequel with the original cast, so you have to watch the original.”

Jace grabbed a fistful of popcorn from the bowl in Simon’s lap. “You mean so you can drag me to the sequel when it comes out?”

“Exactly.” Simon grinned at him. “Thanks for offering to see it with me.”

“That’s not what just happened,” Jace said around a mouthful of popcorn.

“Agree to disagree.”

The movie turned out to be surprisingly entertaining, film quality and 80’s aesthetics notwithstanding. And the atrocious special effects. And, well, the entire plot, really.

“Do you think sororities were really like that back in the 80’s?” Simon wondered as the titular sorority babes outlined the hazing their pledges would undergo.

“It wouldn’t surprise me if some of them still are,” Jace said. “But Greek life isn’t really my thing, even if I have seen the inside of a few sorority houses in my time.”

“Was that supposed to be a flex?”

Jace ignored that comment and pulled out his phone. “Alec might know, though.”

Simon leaned in to watch Jace type, resting his chin on Jace’s shoulder. “I know I’ve only met your brother once, but I’m having trouble picturing him anywhere near a sorority.”

“Alec was in a fraternity in college,” Jace explained.

“Yeah, no, still not seeing it.” Even after Jace sent the text, he didn’t move away.

Alec’s response came only moments later.

why would I know that Phi Beta Kappa is an academic fraternity and sorority girls are well outside my areas of interest

“Okay, that makes sense.” Simon slid the bowl of popcorn off his lap so he could lean more fully into Jace’s side.

maybe ask Iz

Jace snorted and slipped his phone back into his pocket. He reached for the popcorn and gave an irritated huff when he found it just out of reach.

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Simon grabbed the bowl and moved it to Jace’s other side. On impulse, Jace caught his hand and laced their fingers together. They hadn’t talked about that night on the couch—not about the casual intimacy or Simon wearing Jace’s ring around his neck or Jace falling asleep on Simon or any of it—but there was no question things were different between them since. Or maybe it was just Jace that was different, knowing how deep he was in this just making him more reckless with his heart.

Simon’s fingers curled around his, his arm coming to rest draped over Jace’s hip as he let out a small, contented sigh.

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t just Jace. But Jace wasn’t exactly sure what to do about it. He could probably have written an entire treatise on navigating hookups, but he had no idea how to navigate…whatever this was. The only experience he had with actual romantic relationships was with Clary, and despite how fucked up they’d both been back then—or maybe even because they’d both been so fucked up—there had never been any ambiguity about how they felt, no questions about what they were to each other. No wondering if she knew she could do so much better than him.

It was different with Simon. Simon, who never seemed fazed by the shit life threw at him. Simon, who actually dated, and always seemed to leave a breakup on good terms. Simon, who held him like he was afraid Jace might break, who fucked him like he wanted him to break.

Simon, who had to know he could do better than Jace.

“Let me guess,” Jace said as the two characters he’d mentally tagged as the protagonists ducked into a closet to escape a demonic minion, “the nerd and the hot bad girl are the only survivors, and they get together at the end.”

Simon gave him an unimpressed look. “You don’t get any points for guessing that. This is a comedy made in the 80’s that leans heavily into the tropes of the era.”

“Yeah, but that’s not why I guessed it. I just figured you’d be into the whole ‘nerd gets the bad girl’ thing.”

“That’s not why I like this movie,” Simon said. “But Spider might have been part of why 12-year-old me liked this movie,” he admitted.

“Thought so,” Jace said smugly.

“You’re the worst.” Simon’s arm tightened around Jace’s waist, belying his words. “I’m seriously questioning why I even like you right now.”

“Because I’m charming, witty, and great in bed.”

The smile Simon flashed him probably shouldn’t have made Jace’s stomach do a pleasant little flip, but it did. “Those are some pretty great selling points.”

“Watch your dumb movie,” Jace said, trying and failing to hide his own smile.

When Jace’s phone buzzed several minutes later during a particularly tense scene, they both jumped. Jace pulled it out to check his new messages, then chuckled and turned the screen so Simon could read Alec’s message.

Magnus says there was at least one sorority exactly like that five years ago also I’m now being subjected to this atrocious movie, so thanks for that

“I knew Magnus would have good taste in movies,” Simon commented.

“I’m disturbed you can even talk about this movie and good taste in the same sentence.”

“Oh, come on,” Simon said reproachfully. “Didn’t you once tell me that any movie with boobs and explosions was a good movie?”

“Yeah, but this movie doesn’t have any—” On screen, the nerd threw a Molotov cocktail at a possessed sorority babe. Jace sighed. “Objection withdrawn.”

Simon flashed him a smug grin. “Admit it, I’ve got fantastic taste.”

Jace smirked. “I do like the way you taste.”

“Not what I—” He cut off as Jace illustrated his point by licking a line up Simon’s throat.

Simon let out a hiss. “You’re going to miss the end of the movie.” He didn’t pull away.

“Told you,” Jace murmured, scraping teeth along his jaw, “I already know the nerd and biker girl are going to survive. I don’t need to see the end.”

Simon turned his head to catch Jace’s lips with his own in a surprisingly gentle kiss, his hand coming up to cup Jace’s cheek. They stayed like that for what felt to Jace like hours but couldn’t actually have been more than a minute or two judging by the tinny screams coming from the laptop speakers.

“What do you need?” Simon whispered when he finally broke the kiss. His tone was teasing, but the way his thumb caressed Jace’s cheekbone was all sincerity.

“Just this,” Jace whispered back, and it was the truest thing he’d ever said.

Then they were kissing again, slow and soft, and Jace thought he might drown in it, thought he might want to drown in it. He kissed Simon like he’d been wanting to for weeks, for months. Maybe longer. He put everything he felt into the kiss—his hope and his love and his fear—and prayed that Simon would understand, that he wouldn’t pull away.

He didn’t.

They kissed until they were breathless with it, until the last strains of the movie’s closing credits had long since faded away, until there was no room for anything in Jace’s thoughts and heart and dreams but Simon. He knew he was grinning like an idiot when they finally broke apart, and he couldn’t bring himself to care. Especially not with Simon grinning back at him.

“See?” Jace combed a hand through Simon’s curls. He couldn’t stop touching. “Way better than that movie.”

“You don’t know that,” Simon protested. “You didn’t even watch the end. It could have been twenty straight minutes of boobs and explosions, and you’d never even know.”

“Weirdly, I think I might like kissing you even more than I like boobs and explosions.”

“Wow, high praise.” Simon was still teasing, and Jace suddenly needed him to understand how much he wasn’t really joking.

“No, seriously.” He wrapped a hand around the back of Simon’s neck, drew him close enough to feel his breath. “I—” Words he meant far too much—that would be too much—stuck behind his teeth. “I’m not really here for the movie,” he said instead. “No matter how many boobs or explosions it has. You get that, right?”

“I—yeah.”

There was something subdued and almost vulnerable in Simon’s voice, something that didn’t quite track with the conversation they were having, but before Jace could even catch the thread of it, he was being pushed back into the bed and kissed breathless once again. By the time Simon was tugging his shirt over his head, brushing calloused fingertips over a peaked nipple and making him gasp, Jace thought he must have imagined it.

Simon took him apart slowly, deliberately, maintaining a calm focus even when Jace teased, never altering his pace even when Jace begged. And Jace did beg, edging on desperation before they even got all their clothes off. By the time Simon had him spread out on the bed, opening him up with slick fingers and teasing his dick with strokes far too light to even approach enough, Jace wasn’t sure he was capable of anything but begging.

“Simon, please.” He scrabbled ineffectually at Simon’s shoulders, trying ineffectually to drag him close. The angle was bad for it, but Simon was also strong, something that was easy to forget until they were like this. It was also seriously fucking hot. “Please. Fuck. Need you in me already, please.”

“You’re so beautiful.” There was an edge to Simon’s voice, but Jace still thought he sounded far too composed for what they were doing, for what he was doing to Jace. “God, do you even know?”

Jace couldn’t even begin to answer, because Simon chose that moment to press his fingers very deliberately against Jace’s prostate, and the only words Jace was capable of anymore were garbled curses and Simon’s name.

“You have to know.” Simon withdrew his fingers and all Jace could do was whine in protest. “I bet people tell you all the time.”

Jace shook his head, not sure if he was disagreeing or just objecting to the sudden tragic lack of Simon’s hands on him and in him. Simon pressed a soothing kiss to his knee before pulling away to roll a condom onto his own dick, which took way too long in Jace’s opinion, but it was enough time for Jace to find his voice again.

“Please, Simon.” His voice was half a sob, and he didn’t even care. “Need you.”

“You’ve got me,” Simon breathed, the faintest tremor in his voice as leaned in to line his cock up with Jace’s hole and brushed the lightest of kisses against his lips.

“Yes,” Jace whispered. “Yes, please.”

And then Simon was finally, finally pushing inside, and Jace was rocking down against him, desperate and greedy for everything Simon was willing to give him. It took exactly two thrusts for Simon’s composure to crack completely, and Jace swallowed down his moans as greedily as he took everything else, licking into Simon’s mouth to chase every sound.

Jace would have been embarrassed by how quickly he came after that, lasting maybe a full ten seconds after Simon wrapped a hand around his dick, except that Simon was right there with him, following him over the edge with a barely audible, “Fuck, fuck, Jace, oh god.”

After, they lay next to each other on the bed, catching their breaths. This would normally be when one of them left to go back to their own room, or went to take a shower, or make food, or anything, really, to keep this thing between them from seeming like more than it was. Except it was more for Jace. Maybe for both of them.

“You’ve got me.”

Jace wasn’t sure if Simon had meant the words the way Jace wanted him to, but he wasn’t ready to let go of the possibility that he did. Trying not to overthink it, he curled into Simon’s side, resting a hand on his chest.

For a few seconds, Simon went absolutely still, and Jace thought for sure he’d fucked everything up. But just as cold dread was beginning to claw its way up his throat, Simon let out a shaky breath and cuddled closer, pulling the blanket up to cover them both and covering Jace’s hand with his own. Jace smiled into Simon’s shoulder.

“You’ve got me.”

He would hold onto that for as long as Simon let him.

[belovedbangtan]

Dive

Pairings: Jungkook x y/n, Yoongi x oc

Word Count: 3.1k

Description: Camping with your ex, sounds horrible right? The camping trip was planned and payed for long before y/n’s shitty boyfriend broke up with her. Her best friend Abby, Yoongi, Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook are there to make sure she has an amazing time. However, sharing a tent with a smoke show like Jungkook is bound to lead to some complications.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of anxiety, drinking, that’s is for this chapter!

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“I just don’t think we’re the right fit,” His voice was calm. Too calm in your opinion. You didn’t bother to ask questions, but he insisted on explaining why. Of course, he was trying to make you feel better about the situation, but him rambling on about how your lifestyles didn’t align was not something you wanted to hear. He wanted to get drunk every weekend and spend daddy’s money, while you were too tired to even think about drinking. You didn’t have a safety net to rely on and that was something that he would never understand. It didn’t make the blow hurt any less. You knew the relationship was getting rocky. When it was bad, he turned a blind eye, but when it was good, it was really good. Your mother told you that the way you ignored serious problems would end up biting us in the ass. You groaned as you realize that means you have to tell her she was right all along. He handed you your box of things and you can’t believe there wasn’t more in the box. After a year of sleeping at his house, you could fit everything in a small box. Part of your brain knew this would happen; it anticipated your flame burning out.

You close the door behind him and you sift through the box. You scoff picking up the frame that held a picture of you both. Remembering when he showed it to you. You were in awe as he complimented your figure, claiming “That’s when I knew I loved you”. You take the frame instantly throwing it into the trash can, along with the other keepsakes he assumed you would want to keep. You laugh to yourself finally being able to realize what a pretentious douche bag he was. The tears staining your cheek are confusing you. You did love him, you just weren’t in love with him. It hurt nonetheless.

You throw yourself onto the bed letting the memories of the past year overwhelm you. You might as well get this out of the way. You decide to call your best friend, Abby, the one who introduced you to Ben. The dial tone rings out and you still try to sort out how you feel. Within minutes of talking on the phone, she decided she’s coming over. Even though you insist that you’re fine, she knows you well enough, and you’ll never say no to ice cream.

“What a fucking douche,” Abby mumbles shoving a spoon of ice cream into her mouth. You reach over dipping your own spoon in. You were adults now; you didn’t even bother with bowls.

“Tell me about it,” you roll your eyes, leaning back onto the couch, “I’m pissed I have that whole camping trip next week paid for..”

She cuts you off immediately, “No, fuck that. You’re still coming.”

You sit up quickly, eyebrows scrunching together, “You’re delusional if you think I’m coming on that trip.”

“You’re delusional if you think you’re going to let him control your life, you’re coming and that’s that!” she points a finger in your direction.

“I don’t even have any camping gear. He was the one that had all of that stuff.” You explain as you pick up the quart of ice cream, walking it over to your freezer. Of course, you were excited to go on this trip. Abby couldn’t stop talking about how much fun it had been last year. Tons of people all camped out, getting drunk out of their minds. She told me about how the last night they would all skinny dip in the river at midnight. You cringed when she first told you about it, but now it sounded revitalizing. You couldn’t get past the fact that Ben would be there. He would without a doubt try to make you feel bad for coming since it was mostly his group of friends. Not to mention how would you feel watching him as he throws himself at the single chicks.

“I can ask Jungkook if he’ll share his tent. His friend was supposed to come but bailed,” She instantly started to text him.

“No, no, no,” You rush over trying to take her phone from her hands, but she was too quick, “Abby, I’ve only met Jungkook once and it didn’t seem like he liked me very much.”

She looks down at her phone as it dings, the corners of her mouth raise as her brows do, “Well, he doesn’t mind. It’s settled you’ll come. You can sleep in Kook’s tent, and you’ll hang out with me and Yoongi’s friends.”

You see, Abby was dating Yoongi. Through Yoongi, Abby met all of his friends from College. To be honest you still didn’t quite understand how Ben and his group of friends became friends with Yoongi and his group of friends. A year ago, Abby invited you to a birthday party and Ben was there. He was so persistent about taking you on a date, you gave in. He turned on the charm, he was the picture-perfect boyfriend. As soon as you fell for him, it was like he didn’t feel the need to try anymore. So, he stopped. He stopped planning dates for you, and simply started going out with his friends again. That was about seven months into the relationship. Eight months into the relationship you found messages from a girl he claimed to work with. Clearly that was all bullshit. You wondered how a relationship could go from good to bad in a matter of months, but it happened; and you regret falling for him in the first place. You had met Yoongi’s friends before and they were always pleasant, you just hoped that they would be more authentic than Ben and the group of uptight assholes he calls his friends.

It was confusing to you but Abby explained that there where about 25-30 people coming, but they would mostly stay in their own friend groups. You assumed you would know most of the people in Ben’s group, you just hoped they would ignore you.

You zone out, you mind flooding with all of the worst possible outcomes. Abby rambles on about how you’ll love getting to know all of the boys. How they’ll welcome you with open arms. You had met them before, they were incredible humans. However, it didn’t make you forget that your ex-boyfriend would be there too. You finally focus on her words, and you listen as she brags about all of the exciting things to look forward to.  After a while her enthusiasm makes you forget the bad. Genuine excitement starts to run through your veins. She was right, you deserved this trip just as much as he did. You were going to have a good time despite him and that was that.

 Friday came faster than you anticipated. You threw yourself into work, leaving your brain little time to think about your broken heart. Or the potential disaster this weekend could be. Abby calls you letting you know that they’ll be outside to pick you up shortly. You grab your luggage and give yourself a once over in the mirror. It was particularly hard deciding what to wear today. How do you dress when you want to make your ex jealous, but you’re also in the woods and sweating your ass off? Cut off jean shorts, a plain white crop top, with a buffalo plaid tied around your waist. Your hair in loose waves, you tousled it with your fingers before sliding the black baseball cap over your hair. Before you have the chance to freak out and change your entire outfit you hear honking outside. You grab your bag filled with blankets and a pillow and you toss your backpack over your shoulder.

The door to the SUV flings open to show a beautiful blonde man on the other side, Jimin. You remembered Jimin the most from previous gatherings, he was always attempting to create a conversation. He yells your name in excitement, instantly making you feel more at ease. Last thing you wanted was any additional drama or tension between you and whoever. He pulls you into a warm hug. After he puts your things in the trunk, you both hop into the back seat.

Abby turns around and looks you up and down, sliding her sunglasses down her nose slightly.

“You’re cute. I like it… it’s like,” she tilts her head as she scans her brain for the right words, “casual, but still make my ex kinda jelly.” You nodded in response, laughing to yourself. Sometimes you felt like you shared a brain cell. With that Abby punched the Campsite address into the GPS and we were on our way.

“So are you nervous?” Jimin asks quietly.

“Kinda,” You suck your bottom lip into your mouth, “but honestly I just want to have fun. It’s really not about making him jealous or anything. I just want to do me, and he can do whatever he wants.” You shrug before looking up to Jimin, a devilish smile starting to take over his face.

“I’ll make sure you have the best time. No unnecessary ex- boyfriend drama,” his smile is sincere, and you can tell that he means what he says, “I’m serious. You don’t have to worry about stupid shit. Just have a good time.” His hand lightly grazes your arm.

He barely hears your ‘thank you’ as Abby turns the radio on full volume, then Yoongi instantly turns it down. She glares at him and his stoic face shows he’s unfazed by her ferocity. You giggle at their interaction; you’ve never met two people who leveled each other out more. They were perfect for each other and exactly what you hoped you and Ben would be. It was never like that though, your chemistry was never something anyone would be jealous of.

A few hours, and a many snacks later you finally pulled into the camp site. Your stomach drops when you see your ex’s car lined up among the rest of them. You take a deep breathe, staying in the car a moment longer when everyone else gets out to unpack their things. In the middle of giving yourself a pep talk, your door is pulled open by the one and only, Kim Taehyung.

His smile is one to make you forget, and that’s exactly what it does.

“What’s the hold up, beautiful?” He reaches across you to unbuckle your seatbelt, and you don’t have time to panic, “Don’t worry, Jimin briefed me. Operation ‘Good Time’ is a-go.” He quickly looks left and right over dramatically. You can’t stop the laugh that surfaces. He was fucking hilarious and you thanked the heaven that you didn’t need to explain yourself or your situation. Even though you were sure that Abby had probably blabbed about the entire situation to all of them. It didn’t matter though, they were making this experience exactly what you wanted it to be. He takes your hand pulling you from the car, making obscene secret agent sounds as he rounds the car to the trunk, Yoongi and Jimin both giving him the weirdest look.

You scan the area around the campsite, your eyes wanting to find him, but your head and heart knowing that you wouldn’t like what you saw. Suddenly your eyes were frozen on someone else. His long hair in a tiny ponytail on top of his head as he rolled the tent from the bag. The tattoos on his arms giving him an edge that he didn’t have before. His entire demeanor was making your body warm. Of course, you remember Jungkook, you remember how rude Ben was to him. You sigh before taking your bags and deciding to walk over, the least you could do was help him set it up.

“Hey roomie.” You say instantly regretting it as it left your lips, he made you forget how to think.

He chuckles as he looks up, brushing a few stray hairs away from his face, “Hey! I should be done in a few minutes.” He says popping together the pieces of the tent like a pro.

“Let me help!” you set your bags down and you move to his side. He hands you a piece to put together, and he demonstrates how to do it. The muscles on his forearms making your knees weak. What the fuck was happening here, it had been so long since you’ve felt this way for someone. Another reason to be thankful that things had ended between you and Ben.

Almost as if he heard your internal dialogue, you hear him. Your eyes shoot up to see him shot gunning a beer with his close circle. You groan, mumbling ‘fucking douche’ under your breath, but apparently loud enough for Jungkook to hear.

His eyes peak over at you and he can’t help but laugh at your response, “You’re not wrong.” He agrees quietly. You nod your head agreeing with him.

The tent is finally together and you start to put your things inside. Jungkook rolls out a queen size blow up mattress and you instantly regret the tiny sleeping bag you brought. You might have fucked up.

“Are you sleeping on that?” Jungkook’s eyes are wide as he kneels next to the mattress using a battery powered pump to bring it to life.

“Uhm, yeah. I guess I didn’t get the memo,” You giggle at your pathetic 5th grade sleep over set up.

He looks at his mattress then looks down as if he isn’t sure of what to say, “Well this is a Queen, we can share if you want.”

“Oh my gosh, no. You’re already sharing your tent,” You shake your head, even though you know deep down that’s exactly where you want to end up.

“The offers on the table,” His tongue pokes the side of his cheek as the corners of his mouth turn into a smile, “Besides, having you in bed with me wouldn’t be the worst thing.” He turns his head biting his lip gently as he laughs quietly. You giggle nervously in return because it’s all you can do. You’re positive your cheeks are burning red, and there’s a wetness between your legs suddenly. You excuse yourself to get your other bag, and possibly smack Abby for failing to brief you on the smoke show that is Jeon Jungkook. Asshole, you knew he was attractive but, what the actual fuck.

Abby was sitting on Yoongi’s lap while Taehyung and Jimin were setting up the tent. A tent fit for royalty. It was massive compared to the one you were sharing with Jungkook, but you definitely weren’t complaining about the smaller shared space. Frankly, you were thankful for it. You walked over to your friend and flicked her on the back of her head. She ducked down and covered her head, “What the fuck was that for?!” She screamed.

“For many reasons!” You start yelling at her in a whispered tone, “one, you didn’t tell me to bring one of those blow up thingies.”

“Oh fuck. My bad, what else?” she rolls her eyes, still not feeling the abuse was necessary.

Your eyes widen and you point your head in a different direction, she quickly got the hint. You grabbed her arm once she was safely out of Yoongi’s lap, pulling her to where no one could hear you.

“So, I met Jungkook. He might have asked me to sleep with him?” you say questioning yourself entirely. Now that you say it aloud… were you dreaming that happened?

“Excuse me… what?” She scrunches her brows together grabbing your arms.

“Not like… sex. But to sleep on his mattress… but he could have meant sex?” You were genuinely confused.

“Ah!” She squeals and quickly checks her surroundings, “Okay, so he’s single and YOUR single. I’ve been waiting for this!” She squeaks, speaking too fast for anyone else to comprehend what was happening. She starts to ramble on about setting you and Jungkook up and you quickly stop her. That wasn’t what you came here for. You didn’t come to rebound in a tent a few feet away from your very recent ex-boyfriend. You came to have fun. Simple as that. She lets it go but insist that you shouldn’t deny it. ‘It’ being the undeniable connection Jungkook and I apparently had. You rolled your eyes but, you hoped she was right. You hoped that you left this weekend with more than memories. Hopefully the connection you made with Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin and Yoongi would be something that would make all of the awkwardness worth it.

 As the sun fell behind the tall trees, the temperature dropped quick. Around what felt like 11 at night, mostly everyone was done for the day. Maybe not everyone but you certainly were. After watching Ben hit on every girl with a pulse you were exhausted. Tae and Jimin distracted you for a bit with a game of sand volleyball, but that only contributed to your exhaustion. You told everyone you were going to sleep. You unzipped the tent and you pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a swapped your crop top for a t-shirt. As you unzip your sleeping bag you look at the air mattress. For a half a second you debated on falling asleep on it, but then deciding it might be awkward when Jungkook finally comes to sleep. Maybe he was kidding about sharing the bed with you. You really didn’t know him well enough to decipher when he was being sarcastic or serious. Even if you knew he was serious, would you do it? You snuggle up in your sleeping bag, wishing you would have at least brought another cover with you. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t imagining what it would feel like to have Jungkook as your own personal heater. Having is arms pulling you into his body, maybe feeling his lips against yours. Eventually your exhaustion takes over and you fall asleep with some not so PG images in your head.

You’re woken up a few hours later to the sound of the tent being unzipped. You see Jungkook climb inside through the slits of your eyes. You’re eyes close as you hear him rustling around in his bag, probably looking for pajamas. You turn away from him, realizing how cold you are you start to shiver. You take the edges of the blanket and pull them up to cover your nose. You forget about Jungkook until you feel a large blanket covering your body. You hear him shuffle back onto the air mattress and you want to sit up and give it back to him. Maybe tell him you can both use it. You’re too tired to be that ballsy though, you slowly start to fall asleep again.

A/N: So float trips are really popular where I’m from, so i’m sorry if you have no idea what i’m referring to! Hopefully our mood board helps with some imagery! Please let me know what you think!!

[hqrbinger]

A soft knock rung from her door. That time of the week again. She held back a smile, standing up from her bed to answer it.

The brunette curtsied when the door swung open. She smiled warmly at the general, as if she were enjoying her visits just as much.

"Auto Memory Doll, Laverne Schofield, at your service."

Sara stepped aside to allow her to enter. Her trunk clunked against the table as she sat it down; the latches jingled as she undid them.

"Thank you, Laverne." The general closed the door and reassumed her seat at the foot of the bed. She sighed, letting her fingers run over the fabric.

The doll hummed questioningly, not looking up from her typewriter as she set up.

"Seven hundred thirty days since the war began. I've travelled to over thirty different cities and towns, populations from tens of thousands to just a few hundred." She paused, swallowing a lump in her throat. It didn't seem to want to go away. "You've followed to every city and town so I could stay in contact with her. So thank you," she mumbled.

"If it is your wish, I will travel anywhere to meet your request," she smiled, setting the bail over the paper. "Shall we get started then?"

--

Curse

Did Mia really? The two of you sound to have gotten along quite well; I hope she still remembers me. She might as well have chosen a new favorite with the attention you're giving her. It's been a while, what does she look like now?

But more importantly, to you, Curse. It's been two years since I've left, so that would mean almost four years since the anniversary of our first date. So, happy fourth anniversary, princess. My gift this year will be a bit belated, unfortunatelt

After two years, I will be able to see you. The war will end soon; this will be my last mission as a general. Unfortunately, I will be unable to send nor recieve letters for the upcoming three months. For the safety of me and my squadron. Please keep sending letters in my absence, I will read them all after it's over.

Wait for me, I'll be home before you know it.

Yours,

Kujou Sara

--

(This is the part where you send her a letter in response, since it'll be the last one she sees before she has to leave :))

;Lio

sara,

my love, i've missed you so, so much. so much that it hurts. some things have... happened, while you were away. but pay it no mind. i'm just happy to be able to write to you, finally. i hope my letter reaches you before you leave.

despite what you might think, mia does miss you... she still waits by the door for you at the end of each day. she's much bigger than when you left, perhaps i've been feeding her too much.

ah, has time really flown so quickly? four whole years.... i'd be lying if i said they weren't the most wonderful years of my life. you make me so happy, sara... the happiest woman in the world. please, if anything happens, don't forget that.

as for gifts, you have something waiting for you back here at home. i hope you aren't too angry with me for spending a little extra this year, but you deserve this and more than i can ever give you. but you don't need to get me anything, my love. just having you home safe is a gift enough in it of itself.

i'll keep sending you letters, don't you worry. you can't get me to shut up that easily :> you're stuck with me. i'll miss you even more during these three months.

make sure to come home safe. that's my only request for you, my love

love you for eternity,

curse

[nalu4emily]

The Unexpected Reward - Chapter 12

Summary: Natsu and Lucy go on a job together, but what they bring home is something neither anticipated. Forced to make a life changing decision, they have to adapt quickly, but that's never easy, especially given the circumstances. As they work together on their toughest adventure yet, they find themselves drawn to one another, in ways they never realised. Nalu/cute/fluff/multi-chapter.

Contains mature content. Adult readers only! 

Natsu sighed, his breath visible in the brisk night air. Unable to sleep, he sat alone outside his house. His mind was distracted, it had been since the quarrel he'd had with his small flying companion.

He never fought with Happy, well, rarely enough for him not to remember anyway and because of it, the Exceed was refusing to speak to him. Sure, they had minor disagreements, tiffs were common place between friends and loved ones, but it never meant anything. This however, was something entirely different, something he knew the cat wouldn't forgive so easily.

"Still thinking about Happy?" A soft voice tore through his thoughts.

He peered over his shoulder at the sleepy blonde standing there, clad in next to nothing, shivering uncontrollably from the crisp autumn breeze.

"I thought you were sleeping?" Natsu replied, ignoring her question completely.

Seeking out a warmth that only the dragon slayer could provide, Lucy plonked herself down next to him and grazed her chilly hands against his bare arm.

"You're freezing! Why didn't you put more clothes on before coming out?" He removed his jacket and placed it over her shoulders.

"That's what I got you for! Duh!" She said, resting her head on his shoulder.

Playfully rolling his eyes at her statement, he cradled her hands in his, blowing hot air onto them. Once satisfied she wasn't going to freeze to death, he laid his head on top of hers, contented to have her next to him whilst he felt so down.

It had been a week since the altercation between Natsu and Happy, happening just as they were set to leave on a mission with the whole team. Originally, Natsu had been ecstatic about finally doing a job again with everyone, it'd been so long since they'd all worked together. It was going to be his first mission since Haru was just four weeks old and considering the little one was seven months now, he'd been dying to set something on fire.

But then, everything fell apart.

Distraught, Happy had ditched the job altogether and refused to listen to anyone who tried to persuade him otherwise. Natsu hated the idea of leaving without him in such circumstances, but did not have the luxury of bailing out himself. He and Lucy had another mouth to feed and no matter the situation, Haru came first.

It'd been a long mission, having only just returned home from it. Natsu had hoped after a week apart, the Exceed would've been ready to talk to him, but he'd been very wrong. Happy kept his distance and it was starting to really frustrate the fire mage. He valued all of his friends dearly, but the blue feline held a special place in his heart. The inseparable duo not on speaking terms was almost unfathomable, yet here they were and the poor boy was at a loss on how to make things better.

"So, are you gonna answer my question?" Lucy asked, startling the slayer once again, he'd forgotten she'd even said anything. Trying to remember her question, his mind was too muddled right now to think straight. "I asked if you were still thinking about Happy?"

"How can I not? It's too weird not having him here." Natsu looked down to his lap, feeling an emptiness without his friend at home. "I said I was sorry, what else can I do? I can't change what I did."

"I know, but try to see it from Happy's point of view. I imagine he was just as shocked as everyone else when you reprimanded him like that. You've never done that before." Lucy said, thinking back to the incident.

"I don't know what came over me, I shouldn't have called him irresponsible…"

"Or reckless, or careless, or immature… Sounds like someone else I know, hey Natsu?" She giggled at his cute pout.

"Hey, it's not funny!" He huffed childishly. "In my defence, I thought he had been—at the time! Haru could've gotten seriously hurt if I hadn't been there, but I still regret saying them now." He really did regret it. In the heat of the moment, words were exchanged that he wished he could take back.

They were all at the guild, helping to set up the hall for a local event and Happy had been charged with occupying the baby. The Exceed had sat Haru up on the bar top, having only just mastered the skill of sitting unaided, the infant was still a bit wobbly. Thinking the baby had gotten his balance, the cat let go for just a few seconds. In which time the little guy had fallen forward and toppled head first off of the side and nearly collided with the hard floor.

Luckily, Natsu had seen it happen and just managed to catch Haru in time before his head smacked the ground. The baby, of course, had been none the wiser, giggling and clapping his hands when he'd landed in his fathers firm hold, thinking it all a very fun game.

Although relieved to see that his son was unharmed, the slayer did not hold the same reprieve when he glanced up at his little friend. Happy had apologised profusely to the fire mage, however, pumped with adrenaline from watching Haru fall like that, the slayer hadn't taken a blind bit of notice. Further adding to Happy's mortification, Natsu scolded him like a child in front of the entire guild for how irresponsible he'd been, causing the cat to fly off in a huff.

"You were just being a protective father, no one blames you for that, Natsu. But, Happy didn't do it on purpose, you know that! You just didn't give him chance to explain." Lucy chuckled, shaking her head. Those two were such idiots sometimes! "You've got some grovelling to do when he does finally come home."

"Grovel?! But I already apologised!" He exclaimed, but one look from Lucy made him recoil, the guilt returning. "Fine, fine… Happy's pretty stubborn, if I don't do it, he definitely won't." Natsu sighed.

In the end, the cat hadn't really done anything wrong. It'd been an accident and now the fire mage would have to find some way to make it up to him.

"Why don't you take him fishing, just the two of you? You haven't done that in a while." Lucy asked. She could almost see the light go on in Natsu's brain at the suggestion. "It'll be good for you both to spend more time together, he's your best friend Natsu, you don't want him to feel left out."

"You think he feels left out?" Natsu looked down to his lap again, he didn't want Happy to feel pushed out, especially now that this had happened between them. The blue feline was a valued part of their family and now more than ever, he needed to be reminded of that. "I guess I have been busy with Haru, that I've not really noticed because he's always around."

"Babies do take up a lot of time, but a break to go fishing with Happy every now and then wouldn't hurt. Plus, Haru will be old enough to go with you before long." Over whelmed by how quickly the last seven months had gone, she smiled at all the memories they'd made. "It really has flown by, hasn't it? He was a tiny baby not moments ago and now look at him! Maybe he'll even say his first word soon?"

Natsu turned to look at her, feeling a warmth flood his body at the pretty smile on her face as she thought fondly of their son. "Wouldn't that be awesome?"

He couldn't believe it either, their little baby, the one they found so helpless that day had become such a happy boy, with so much love held within those chubby cheeks when he smiled. He'd grown into a very cute, chunky baby, that they couldn't be prouder of.

Leaving the conversation there, they fell into silence once again, looking out onto the horizon. Well, Lucy was—Natsu had his eyes set on something much more enthralling. Shining brilliantly with the sun, she made his heart flutter excitedly in his chest. The morning light had cast a warm glow to her angelic form, bringing out all of her natural beauty. To put it simply, she was stunning.

"Like what you see, Natsu?" She teased, feeling his eyes burning into her skull. She moved her head to look at him directly, an amused smile dawning her cheeks.

"I always like what I see when I look at you." Lucy felt herself shudder, he was so blunt sometimes but that's what she liked about him, there was no dancing around the bush with Natsu.

Even after being caught gawking, he kept his gaze on her, only this time she was staring right back. The gentleness of his expression made her yearn for his touch, her eyes flickering down to his lips, feeling a tug from an unknown but familiar force to kiss them.

He cupped her soft cheek, quirking his lips up at the delicate pink tinting her skin. Feeling that same yearning, he brought his mouth to hers. Soft, gentle and smooth, with enough pressure to send little vaults of electricity down into her stomach, eliciting a small contented sigh into his mouth. Their lips, having gained plenty of practice in the previous months, meshed together snugly, tongues interloping, losing themselves to the moment of beautiful uninterrupted bliss.

Breaking apart, Lucy stood herself up, a shiver taking over her body suddenly from feeling the bitterness of the wind again. She turned and offered her hand to Natsu and pulled him back inside. Cuddling up together in bed, Lucy hoped Natsu might get some needed rest now.

Lucy had made it her mission to try and take Natsu's mind off of the missing Exceed. He was always so ready to make her happy that for once an opportunity arose where she could repay the favour. She hadn't seen that face splitting grin in too long and was determined to make him smile as much as she could until he started to feel like himself again.

They'd decided to stay home, after a week long mission away from Haru, they wanted to spend some time with him and just relax. The first to wake, Lucy was already downstairs preparing breakfast by the time Natsu got himself up. Haru had been seated in his chair at the table, whilst Lucy busied herself in the kitchen.

"Morning Luce, whatcha making?" He mumbled whilst stretching, looking over to his partner who was busy washing up the pans she'd used for cooking.

"Morning Natsu!" She chirped, smiling sweetly over to him. "I've made your favourite and lots of it, so I hope you're hungry?" She said, plating it up and placing it on the table.

"Awesome! Thanks Lucy, I'm starving!"

He gave her a tired, half smile whilst walking over to the table and sitting down next to Haru, ruffling his hair. "Morning, little guy! What's Mama made you then?" He asked, noticing the baby had covered himself in whatever sticky substance he'd been given to eat. Natsu sniggered at the state the child was in and grabbed a wet cloth to clean him up. "Did you eat any, or just go straight to painting yourself in it?"

"It was little mashed up pieces of fruit. I was gonna feed it to him but he got there before me…" Lucy's sheepish grin made Natsu quirk his lips up and shake his head in amusement.

"Daddy does that as well. Only, I'm not cute like you so Mama likes to yell at me for it!" Natsu jokingly told the baby, turning to the sound of Lucy giggling. He retrieved what was left of the fruit in the bowl and began to spoon it into the little one's hungry mouth. "That's better, now you're actually getting some!"

Once they'd all finished, they sat around and played with Haru for the rest of the morning. Lucy sat back and watched Natsu chuck the baby into the air and catch him again, pretending he could fly. Whilst distracted, he seemed like his normal self, smiling and laughing, but there was still something that felt off, like he was missing that fire in his belly that he was so well known for.

Just as Natsu was about to chuck the infant back into the air, Haru let out a big yawn and began to rub at his eyes. "Did all that super cool flying make you sleepy?" Natsu said, bringing the baby into his chest so that he could snuggle in. Haru had closed his eyes the second his head touched Natsu's shoulder, sleeping soundly in the comforting warmth that surrounded him.

"So cute! Here, I'll take him upstairs to his room." Lucy whispered, gently taking the baby from Natsu and making her way to the stairwell.

Once returning to the living room, Natsu was nowhere to be seen. Lucy knew where he'd gone though, back outside no doubt to keep himself from getting bored. Seeing a bright light coming from the partially open front door, she walked over and peered out of it, watching as he made short work of burning all of the brown leaves with his fire breath, that'd fallen onto the grass around the house, then perched up against the offending tree, looking forlorn once again.

"What's it gonna take to cheer you up?" Lucy muttered under her breath, making her presence known and walking over to him.

"Huh? What do you mean? I'm fine!" Barely believing himself.

"Sure, that's why you're sat out here by yourself, setting leaves on fire?" Raising an eyebrow at him, she sat herself down on the now charred grass, courtesy of Natsu. "What did those leaves ever do to you?"

"They keep falling on my head, that's what!" Feigning annoyance, Natsu caught another leaf mid air and burnt it, making Lucy chuckle. No matter how blue he was, the sound of her laughter always made him feel brighter.

Silence yet again befell them, it was a comfortable silence but Lucy knew better than to assume it was because Natsu didn't have anything to say. She needed to distract him somehow, make him concentrate on something else for a while. Haru was always a good diversion and had been all morning, but he was now fast asleep so she needed to find something else. Then it hit her, she could totally use herself! Ideas flooded her mind at all the ways she could occupy her brooding partner.

Starting off gently, Lucy leaned forward, catching his attention as she ever so slowly brought herself within inches of his face. Natsu watched, a bemused expression taking over as she pressed her lips to his cheek then moved away again, smiling brightly, hoping he'd reciprocate. But to her dismay, he didn't say or do anything other than look at her like she was being weird. She huffed in frustration, this was going to be harder than she thought.

"Alright, cutesy not working for ya? Fine, I can do rough…"

Eyes widening, Natsu had no idea what she meant by that, but was soon to find out when the blonde eagerly plopped herself in his lap and grabbed his head, pulling him forward and taking his lips by force. Lucy mashed their mouths together in such a fierce and scorching kiss, it was enough to make his head spin. It was blisteringly hot, and full of dark promises, plunging her tongue deep into his mouth and nearly choking the poor guy.

He tangled his fingers into her hair, not knowing what else to do with his hands and tightened his grip, causing a light whimper to escape her mouth. Enjoying the roughness far more than expected, Lucy reluctantly pulled away, gasping for air. She stared into his eyes, his dazed and completely bewildered eyes.

"Are you trying to kill me, Lucy!" He panted heavily between each word, struggling to catch his breath, he felt both confused and aroused by her attack.

"Not even that worked?!" Dumbfounded, she couldn't believe a fiery kiss like that hadn't had the desired affect. "Right, well, you asked for it! If this is the only way, so be it!" She got up from his lap onto her feet and turned away, gathering herself for her next assault.

"Asked for what? I didn't ask for – WHOA!" He exclaimed, shocked by her sudden boot clad foot coming straight for his face. Luckily, he'd seen it just in time to push himself up out of the way before she made contact with the side of his head. "What the hell was that for?! I didn't do anything that time, I swear!"

"Fight me!" Were the only words she said.

Using the other foot that was currently holding her weight, she jumped up and round house kicked him straight in the chest, knocking the boy flying back and landing him flat on his ass.

"Aargh! Dammit Lucy, that really hurt!" Gritting his teeth, he rubbed at the sore area where her foot had made contact. He peered up at the cocky looking blonde standing there in a fighting stance. He was so confused, if he hadn't done anything wrong, then why was she trying to fight him? And then he realised… "Wait… fight you?"

"You brawl with everyone else, so why not with me?" She challenged him, knowing that she'd get a reaction from the fire boy eventually, she just had to say the right words. "Or are you scared I might win?"

"You're being serious right now?" Standing back up, Natsu raised his eyebrow at the smirking blonde, he just didn't understand what had come over her. This wasn't like Lucy, she hated fighting. She never got into any guild brawls and rarely chose violence over talking first. "You're not everyone else though? I don't wanna brawl with you, Lucy."

"Why not? I'm perfectly capable! I might even give you a run for your money… Or do you really think I'm that weak?"

Lucy knew that was a low blow and almost back pedalled when she saw the guilt appear in his expression, but she held strong. The blonde wasn't planning on taking it too far, but a little brawl might cheer him up just enough to put a smile back on his face and blow off some steam that he so clearly had built up inside him.

"What?! I never said- Aargh!" Distracted, he was thrown back once again, by yet another lethal kick, to the face this time.

She smirked, starting to feel a little smug at all the hits she was getting in while he was still holding back. Holding his sore cheek, Natsu realised then that he really didn't have a choice in the matter, it was either spar with his weirdo of a girlfriend or become her personal punching bag and that sounded quite painful. With his competitive streak finally seeping through, he stood himself up and wiped the blood from his mouth, dawning a smirk of his own.

"Alright, Luce, you're on! But don't think I'm gonna take it easy on you, you've had your hits, now it's my turn."

In a flash, he was right behind her, about to grab her arms and pin her down on the floor. Having anticipated that he'd go straight for the kill, to try and end this quickly, she threw her head back, crashing straight into Natsu's nose, making him yell out in pain. Lucy swivelled and ducked down whilst he was distracted, taking out his feet and watched him flail, landing him flat on his ass for the third time.

"Ow! That's not fair! You're fighting dirty!" He accused her, holding his nose until the throbbing stopped.

"Oh, poor little dragon doesn't like it when he gets beaten… Looks like I might win after all." Her voice was sickeningly sweet and filled with tease. She laughed mockingly, anticipating his next move while she taunted him.

Back on his feet in an instant, he readied himself for another attack. It was apparent that head on blows weren't going to work against Lucy. Although physically weaker than him, she was too smart and cunning for him to get to her like that. Natsu needed to figure out a way to subdue the girl, the quicker he did that, the sooner this, whatever this was, would be over.

He eyed her dangerously, she was obviously trying to provoke him and he hated to admit, it was working. Lucy's fighting prowess had really come a long way since they'd first met. Natsu felt pride swell in his chest at how well she held her own, even against a force like him. Many powerful mages in the past had struggled to lay even a single finger on him, yet here she was playing with fire and then goading him like it was nothing.

Even though he'd never gone up against her before, the fire mage had learnt through the years that she wasn't one to take lightly. That was becoming apparently obvious, having landed three separate strikes to him already.

"Don't get too cocky, ya just got lucky! It won't happen again!" He warned.

If Lucy wanted to fight dirty, then he would too. Having already made the detrimental mistake of challenging the fire dragon slayer, she naively followed by not setting any ground rules, which he was going to exploit to his full advantage.

He stood by for a moment, gauging her every move until he'd figured out a way to bring her down without going overboard, because this was Natsu after all and he had a slumbering baby to think about.

Taking him by surprise once again, there was no time to react before she rushed at him, dodging the fist he'd aimed right at her in a vain attempt to knock her down. Bringing out her whip, she slid along the floor, catching it around his ankles and yanking hard, toppling him over and watched him face plant the dirt.

"So much for it won't happen again! I was being serious about sparring and you're just making a mockery of me. It'd be different if I was Erza or Gray right now." Surely that would get him into gear? Lucy knew he was probably still unsure of her true intentions and that was the reason for him not going all out, but she wanted him to let loose and be the Natsu she'd always known. "I know I'm not as strong as they are, but now you're just rubbing it in!"

"You really think I'd do that?" His voice stern and his gaze held a seriousness that wasn't there before. Keeping true to her intentions, she did nothing but stare at him accusingly, waiting for him to react in the only way Natsu would.

Taken aback, he bore deep into her eyes, hoping to find a slither of falsity, anything that would tell him she was lying, but he found nothing. A sudden rush of adrenaline pumped through his body, a fire ignited within his belly, determined to prove her wrong.

Grabbing hold of the whip that was still wrapped around his ankle, he yanked it hard towards him. Lucy, of course, tried to pull back, not willing to let go of her precious celestial whip. But Natsu was simply too strong, bringing her closer until she fell straight into his arms. Quickly flipping them over, he pinned her to the floor and straddled her hips.

However, the blonde wasn't about to give up that easily, not until she got what she wanted. Grimacing up at him, Lucy thrust her hips right into his groin, yet another low blow, but necessary. With his eyes leaping out of his skull and a yelp of discomfort, she speedily switched their positions, with her now on top and him being pinned to the floor.

"Nice try, dragon boy, but you're still not trying hard enough!"

Her grip tightened on his wrists, knowing that if he truly wanted to, he could get out of her grasp, no problem. So she promptly used her magic to dawn Taurus' star dress, using the pervy cows strength to hold the slayer down.

"Jeez, Luce, when did you get this strong?!" Natsu asked surprised, pushing against his restraints and being met with equal amounts of force. He was testing Lucy for sure, finding it rather enjoyable. "Have you been training with that goat man again?"

"I wouldn't have to if you ever bothered to show an interest! You never even ask!" She was trying to push the boy further, he was still holding back and it was starting to frustrate her. "Go on then, Natsu! I know you're not really struggling! Stop treating me like some delicate flower and-"

Before she even knew what'd happened, Natsu had pushed against her and flipped them once again with her arms held down above her head. He was staring right at her, almost intimidatingly so as her Taurus form faded back to her own clothes. She glanced up into his piercing glare, curious to know what he was thinking after having obviously triggered him.

"Lucy… You're no delicate flower… trust me on that." His expression remained stern, like he was working through something in his mind. "You're right, I don't ask but only because I don't need to, you're the strongest person I know. But if that's still not enough for you to believe me then train with me? Show me what you're made of!"

Although not the purpose of this little exercise, she was pleased to hear him say that. It made her feel good that someone as powerful as Natsu recognised her capabilities as well. "I'd love to, Natsu." She smiled.

"Good." He smiled back at her. "And I gotta admit, you've surprised me, Luce. I don't let just anyone knock me down that many times and get away with it, so a word of advice for ya."

Leaning down to her face, his green eyes locked on to her pink lips and smirked as he claimed them eagerly with his own, rough and heavy just like their earlier kiss, proving he could be just as torrid. Detaching from her needy mouth, he studded small kisses across her jaw and up to her ear, where he whispered to her, sending a shiver down her spine.

"You should never let your guard down, Lucy." Hearing him chuckle made her realise her fatal mistake.

"Oh no…" She uttered, gazing upon the piercing glare of a very smug dragon slayer. She gulped thickly, knowing what was about to come. If she didn't get out of his hold soon, he would use her ultimate weakness against her.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He murmured sarcastically, enjoying the look of horror on her face. "Did you forget who you were up against?"

Her eyes were wide as he switched to hold both of her arms with one hand and without a moments hesitation, dug his fingers into all the places he knew would make her squirm with the other. He tickled her mercilessly, tears welling in her eyes from giggling so much and Natsu couldn't help but grin along with her, finding pure joy in making her laugh so hard that it made her cry.

"N-Natsu! St-Stop! Please!" Lucy begged, barely able to breathe from his hand ravaging her entire body. She couldn't control her movements, jerking and writhing beneath him as he continued his onslaught, only stopping to let her inhale some much needed oxygen.

"Do you give up?" Technically if she conceded now, he'd win, regardless of what underhanded tactics he'd used. Chest heaving, she stayed quiet, contemplating whether she should give up now or not. He grinned wickedly, preparing himself for his next attack, giving her exactly what she'd been after this whole time. "Surrender or I'll use both hands this time. It's up to you, Luce!"

The girl smiled up at him, happy to see his contagious grin back on that handsome face once again. She pulled her hands free from his loosened grip and sat herself up a little, so that she could reach his face. Placing her hand on his cheek and caressing it softly.

"That's all I wanted, was to see that sexy smile of yours. I give up, Natsu, you win." She said, kissing his lips tenderly then placing her head back on the ground.

"That's all you wanted? Pretty weird way of getting what you want, Luce. But I gotta say, it was fun!" This girl was such a weirdo sometimes, but then again, it had worked, she had cheered him up and had definitely got his blood pumping. Now he had the problem of wanting to let off steam in a different way, a more… intimate way. "You know, watching you fight has always been a huge turn on. Now I know fighting against you just makes that worse."

"So, you like being beat, do you? I didn't know you were a masochist! I'm sure Virgo has plenty of things I can punish you with." She sniggered, as his eyes widened in fear, not entirely sure how serious she was being. "Or would you prefer it if I was the one tied down, to do with as you pleased?" She smirked, feeling his member twitch in excitement, she rubbed it ever so gently with her thigh, turning him on even further.

"Hmm… I think I'd prefer that. I never knew you were into such kinky shit, Lucy." He growled, latching on to her neck and nipping at her sensitive skin. The mere thought of Lucy being tied up, begging him to please her, almost made him want to try it right where they lay, but a singular thought was enough to rip that away. "Wait, I'm not sure how I feel about Virgo knowing, she's creepy enough as it is…"

Lucy giggled, her own arousal faltering as images of them getting freaky were ruined by Virgo popping up in the middle of it, asking for punishment—well, if anything was a mood killer… "Shh! I don't wanna hear about Virgo when I'm trying to have my way with you."

"I like the sound of that even more!" He murmured, closing in on her, and kissing her passionately, the scent of her arousal taking over his senses, making him forget about everything but the beauty under him.

Lucy freed her legs from underneath him and wrapped them around his waist, using him as leverage to pull her hips up and rub her core against his erection. He growled against her mouth, approving of her ministrations. Not wanting to wait any longer, he reached down and pulled himself free of his pants and moved her underwear to the side, gently pushing himself into her and earning a guttural groan from her plump lips.

Heightened by their sparring, he thrust into her hard, making her eyes roll into the back of her head and cry out into the open air. In that moment, Natsu didn't care that they were outside and Lucy's loud moaning would give away to anyone within earshot what they were up to. He had so much pent up energy and as much as he loved fighting, fucking Lucy senseless was the best way to get rid of it. This didn't require any underhanded tactics, he simply allowed Lucy's reactions to guide him and the best part was, everyone was a winner.

"Yes, Natsu… Harder!" She gasped as he doubled in speed. In her haze, she felt the slight ache of her back being ground into the floor, but it was over taken by the intenseness of his relentless pounding. The roughness of it all was going to make her cum, that sweet knot inside her was just about ready to snap.

"Cum, Lucy!" He growled through gritted teeth, feeling her tightening around him.

She was so close, her eyes were shut tight, her breathing had become heavy and laboured and she was gripping onto Natsu's head like it was her lifeline. With one more forceful snap of his hips he came, unloading himself deep within her, a strangled moan escaping his lips.

Feeling him tense between her legs made Lucy shudder, gripping tightly around his shaft and greedily milking him for every last drop. Digging her fingers into his scalp, she pulled hard on his pink locks, her cries of ecstasy flying out with the wind.

Natsu took great enjoyment in watching her unravel and waited patiently for her to come down from her high, soaking in every last harsh breath and weary whimper. It was a new type of accomplishment, knowing that he and only he, could make Lucy feel like that.

Leaning down and grinning like a mad man, he kissed her with every last ounce of lust he had in him, thoroughly spent after their afternoon of wild activities. She kissed him back with just as much fire, burning deeply into their bellies.

"AAHHHH! NOT AGAIN!" They heard a small voice shriek from the distance.

Breaking apart, both mages heads twisted to where the noise had come from, their hearts beating rapidly and faces turning beet red, to see who had caught them in such a compromising position.

"Happy?" Natsu said, all arousal leaving his body as he gazed upon the little Exceed, shocked to see him floating there. "You're back?"

The blue cat was hovering there a few metres away, masking the embarrassment in his cheeks by averting his gaze away from the mages who'd obviously been up to naughty things, wanting no part in it. "Um… C-Carla told me I had to come and speak to you, but I can see that you're, uh, busy…" He went to turn around and leave, when Natsu shouted out to him, catching his attention again.

"No! Happy, wait! Uh—just give me a second…" The slayer yelled awkwardly, grateful the Exceed hadn't flown off yet.

He looked down to Lucy for approval, not wanting to just ditch her like this, but she simply smiled at him and kissed his cheek. This was what she'd been waiting for, knowing that once the pair made amends, everything would return to normal, she would have her family back together again.

"Go on, Natsu, don't worry about me. I'll make sure dinners ready for when you both come home, okay?"

Pulling her up into a sitting position, he slipped out of her and quickly adjusted himself before the Exceed looked over. Natsu jumped up onto his feet and drew Lucy up with him, feeling the strain of their actions on her back as she straightened herself up. Her underwear and skirt were now back to normal and all evidence of their intimacy now gone, both looking as innocent as ever.

"Thanks, Lucy! You're the best!" He grinned, kissing her mouth one last time before letting go of her hand and turning to run towards Happy, who'd been waiting patiently.

The young girl sighed and smiled as she watched them walk off towards the river. Once out of sight, she turned to make her way back inside the house, the sound of the baby stirring, catching her attention.

At first they remained quiet, sitting by the river with nothing but the sound of water rushing passed made it feel awkward between them. Natsu really didn't know what to say, he'd been running it through his head all day how he was going to apologise to his little friend, but now all words seemed to have vanished from his vocabulary.

"So…" Happy started, looking out onto the river. "I didn't know you guys were exhibitionists now."

"Happy!" Natsu exclaimed. Using his scarf to cover his cheeks as they flushed with embarrassment.

"What? I'm just saying! Being caught in the house wasn't enough for ya, so you ventured outside this time?" Happy said, a devilish smirk appearing on his face.

"Shh! Lucy will gut you if she hears you say that!" Natsu darted his head around quickly to make sure the blonde hadn't followed.

This hadn't been the first time the cat had caught them in the act, or the second… or third for that matter. He had a habit of popping up at the most inconvenient of times, although Happy would argue that they were always at it, so it was never truly safe. It was a wonder it hadn't traumatised the poor cat for life. But Happy simply giggled cheekily, shocking Natsu for a moment until he too found the humour in it all.

"It's nice to smile again. I haven't since-" All mirth had gone from the cats face as he looked down to the grass in front of him, feeling saddened as he remembered the incident. "I really didn't mean to cause any trouble, I was just trying to entertain him. I didn't think he'd fall off of the bar that suddenly, I only let go for two seconds."

Happy felt tears well in his eyes as he turned to his best friend. He'd had a lot of time over the past week to think about what'd happened and what could've happened if Natsu hadn't been there to save little Haru.

"Happy, it's o-"

"No, Natsu, it's not okay!" He interrupted the dragon slayer, who instantly shut his mouth, allowing Happy to continue. "You were right, I was careless and irresponsible. I could've seriously hurt him and then what would you have done? You don't want someone like me around, I don't deserve your friendship!"

Feeling like utter shit, Natsu couldn't believe Happy had come to that conclusion. The fact of the matter was, nothing bad had actually happened and speaking in hypotheticals was a waste of energy. All the slayer wanted was his friend back, by hook or by crook, Happy was going to come home with him, because that's where he belonged.

He was going to make this right, Lucy was counting on him to make it right and he'd be damned if Happy thought he was going to be walking away from here without him as his friend. That would never happen! Natsu leaned over and pulled the now crying Exceed into his lap, holding him close until his bawling calmed into whimpers.

"Happy, I will always be your friend, that I know for sure." The slayer sighed, he wasn't good with emotion or talking about said emotions but he was trying, for Happy's sake. "Look at everything we've been through together, you think I'd let you leave alone? I never meant any of what I said to you, Happy, but I couldn't stop it from coming out. Looks like we've both got a lot to learn, huh?"

Happy, having stopped crying, looked up to Natsu's solemn face and watched as he went through the motions. This argument had been their biggest to date and it'd affected them both greatly. It seems even the care-free, rambunctious hot head, wasn't immune to the stresses of life, especially those that came with being a father.

Natsu never saw caring for Haru as stressful, he enjoyed everything there was about being his dad, but having a child was still an extra responsibility and that came with added worry, something the slayer was very unfamiliar with. It was the only reason why he'd reacted like that towards Happy, why he'd been unable to control himself when Haru took that fall.

"I know I don't spend as much time with you now, but that doesn't mean I don't want you around. In fact, having you there makes everything feel normal. You're the one thing that's always remained the same through all of our adventures and I never want that to change. You'll always be my best friend, Happy." Natsu finished, hoping he'd managed to convey just how important the flying cat was to their little family dynamic.

"You're my best friend too, Natsu." The little Exceed felt hope build within his small frame. "Does that mean you're not angry with me any more?"

"Of course not, Happy. I never really was. I just want you to come home."

"Fine… I'll come home then on one condition…" Happy smirked, his stomach rumbling. Natsu tilted his head in curiosity, what did the blue cat want? "I can have fish for dinner, I'm starving!" The cat began to drool, thinking of all the little fishes.

Natsu began to snigger which quickly turned into a full blown laugh, all these emotions were sending him doolally apparently. He'd had a feeling the request would be fish related and he was right. Patting the little guy on the head who also started to snicker. The fire mage nodded, relieved that everything had fallen back into place.

"Kissed and made up yet?" A female voice broke through Natsu and Happy's laughter, snapping their heads to the beautiful blonde standing there. Clad in appropriate clothing this time with a basket in one hand and a baby in the other, smiling happily at the two on the ground.

"Lucy? I didn't hear you coming, I thought you were gonna stay home?" Natsu asked, surprised but happy to see her.

"I didn't know how long you'd be, so I thought I'd bring dinner to you guys instead." She said, placing the basket down on the floor and plopping the little one into Natsu's lap. But before she had chance to sit down herself, Happy flew at her, barrelling into her chest and wailed like a child.

"Lucy! I missed you!" He yelled excitedly, snuggling into her chest. "Did you bring me fish?!"

"Of course! Raw and smelly, just how you like it." She chuckled at the grin on the Exceed's face, plonking herself down by the basket.

They sat along the river bank until the early evening, enjoying their dinner and telling Happy all about the mission they'd been on. Everything seemed normal again, like the fall out had never happened. Everyone was smiling and talking, even Haru was trying to join in on the conversation with his babbling.

"Let's get a look at ya then." Happy said, walking over to the little one. Haru, who was still sat in Natsu's lap, grinned widely as he laid eyes on the cat. Haru tried to lean forward to grab hold of the cats whiskers, but missed and fell forwards again, but this time Happy was right there to catch him, lifting him up into the air. "Wow! You're getting heavy! Just like your Mommy…"

He smirked evilly and looked over to Lucy, who's expression turned sinister. With a sense of foreboding hanging in the air, Natsu took the baby back from the cat and slowly moved away from the now steaming blonde, mouthing to Happy to run for it before she skinned him alive.

"That's it!" She yelled, like a battle cry. Storming over to the Exceed, her Cancer form appearing with two large blades pointing directly at the felines throat, scarily resembling a certain red head. "Say that again, I dare you!"

"WAH! Natsu, help! She's gonna kill me!" Happy screamed, flying into the air rapidly and shooting off into the distance, with the stellar mage hot on his tail.

Natsu watched them both run off into the trees, furrowing his brows he looked to the baby in his arms, who was busy playing with the white scarf. "And they say I'm the impulsive one?" Shaking his head, he casually made his way into the woods, hoping Lucy hadn't killed Happy before he got there to rescue him.

[raziroo]

3. Demon Child (Pt. II) - Remus Lupin

Pairing : Remus Lupin x Reader

Genre : Angst all the way. Hint of fluff.

Warnings : Abusive home conditions, mentions of death, graphic descriptions of death, descriptions of torture, mentions of sexual activity.

Word count : 7,200

~~~~~

"What?" I asked Potter and company.

"N-nothing, just, you know..."

"You think me kissing your best friend is strange."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Well... Because you seem to hate humans in general, and it physically pains you to smile?" Potter asked, sarcastically. "Oh, and also because you're incapable of feeling emotions," Black chided.

"Is 'ugh' an emotion? Because I feel that all the time," I retorted, then turned to Lupin. "I don't feel 'ugh' now, I feel actually happy, but that's an occurrence that's rarer than a Parseltongue, so..." I shrugged.

"It's OK," he replied.

After a painfully awkward moment, I exclaimed, "Well! I... Guess I should get going, uh, I need to... get fired," I said, removing my hands from Lupin's shoulders.

"Fired? Why would you get fired?" he questioned, furrowing his brows, looking adorable.

"Oh, Moony! Why are you surprised? Miss I-only-wear-black-and-it-physically-pains-me-to-smile scared her boss, so now she's about to get fired," Black commented. I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Well, Mr. It-is-my-mission-to-get-in-bed-with-every-breathing-organism-in-existence, I am about to get fired because I was on "holiday" for two whole weeks, and because I bunked my five minute break to come visit your best friend who you're practically married to, and because my boss is a-!" and that was the moment, witches and wizards, when the Golden students of Gryffindor had the fortune of hearing my artistically colorful vocabulary. "Oh, and also," I added, "I don't wear just black. I wear inky black, metallic black, leather black, jet black, jade black, obsidian black, onyx black, charcoal black, midnight black, coal, and raven. And also, grey, burgundy, violet, blue, and green." I flashed a smile at Black's bewildered face, and with a kiss to Lupin's cheek, apparated out.

•••••

Ever since the kiss, that had occurred two weeks ago, Lupin frequently visited me. He often brought me food, and coffee, and we would sit and talk about anything and everything for literal hours. Things had become comfortable between us, we had even discussed about the kiss, and what it meant. I had made it clear that, now that he finally knew what I felt towards him, he was in no way forced to return the feeling, and that it was alright with me if he ever felt uncomfortable or forced to reciprocate my feelings.

Of course, he had always replied with a remark that assured me that he wasn't feeling forced, and it was all fine. I, of course, wanted to believe him; it wasn't my fault that I couldn't. Because even though I knew Remus Lupin was a good person, one who'd never lie to me, I was also aware of the fact that I wasn't typical crush material, and people would have no problem leaving me, even if they were scared of me, quite like my father.

And so, strictly out of the fear of being left alone, a quite rational fear of being left alone, I asked him the question that had been bugging me for days now. Or at least tried to.

"Gryffindor," I said, to the person sitting opposite me, who was sipping coffee in the secluded corner of the coffee shop.

"Hm?"

"I... wanted to ask you... something," my hesitance abundant in my voice. Perhaps my unusual reluctance was the reason that led Lupin to look up at me.

"What is it?"

"I... Have been thinking..."

"Hm, go on," he urged.

"I just... " I couldn't do it, it was way too difficult. So I twisted my words around, in order to make the Gryffindor aware of what I meant to say, without actually saying it. "Look... As a kid, I didn't have the greatest childhood. I- I had one of the worst... possible scenarios you could possibly call a childhood. I was a... Mistake, as my parents kept reminding me every other day; they had me when they were teenagers, you see," I raised my eyebrows a bit, but not meeting the man's intense gaze.

"So, my father didn't... he wasn't very- keen on the idea of supporting a family, and neither was my mother. She did, however, take care of me as a child, if you could call feeding a person regularly taking care. My father, he dropped around to our apartment... from time to time, and that was also just a formality. I mean, until I was seven, he did say "Hello" to me, called me a name I hated, but it was a pet name nonetheless; after that... he just stopped caring. Kept having affairs, would get involved with problematic people, ignored me and my mother. Mum, obviously, had slipped into depression. I, as an eleven year old, had to witness my own mother transition into a drunkard, and my father didn't care," I sighed.

"After I received my Hogwarts letter, however, I had to leave, and so... my father left as well. Because, well, why should you care for your dying wife? Your mistake of a kid will now be fed; she wont have to arrange food herself, and that's all a father's role is, isn't it?" I looked up to a face filled with sympathy and pain.

"After my second year, though, I knew that my mother's condition was worsening; she'd gotten into drugs, she seriously needed a rehab. I visited my dad a few times, asked him to get my mother treatment. He just called me by that nasty pet name, gave me a cookie, and sent me on my way. My mum's condition kept worsening and worsening and worsening, she even resorted to hitting me and stuff; I had to lock her in her room. I... just think about it. I had to lock my own mother in a room, and listen to her sobbing- a- and banging on the door, begging me to open the door. But I couldn't, because well, self-survival was a thing."

One day, I returned home from my muggle job, and I called out to my mother; check if she needed food, or- or if I could read her a story. I pulled out a card from... my bag, because it was her birthday. And I go inside, hoping to see my mother in a better... mood than usual; she hadn't been locked up in her room, so." I chuckled, as I tried to blink my tears away.

"And then, I go into her room, and you know what I see? My... my mother's bod-" I sucked in a breath. "She was laying... on the ground, and her eyes, they had no life in them, she- my mother had died. I got her admitted in the nearest muggle hospital, and, a few days later, in her postmortem report, it said that she died because of a... drug overdose. I, was obviously so confused, because I made it sure that I always threw all the- the drugs and alcohol out, I destroyed it. That... Was the reason she was able to live on her own in the first place, obviously. And all the abuse, mental, and... And physical... That wasn't because she was drunk. It was because I wasn't giving her the alcohol. She had so many attacks, and even a couple seizures, but a visit to the hospital, and she would always be able to survive. So when, after my fifth year, I see my mother dead, it was devastating. I wasn't able to find out who really gave her the drugs; I had to suffer jail time. Got out because my father bailed me out after the first three days."

And then, in her funeral, he didn't even make an appearance. I was alone, at her funeral. And then, one month later, a few days before school started, he makes an appearance, with his newest girlfriend," I sniffed.

"An he's like, 'Hey, kid,' and at that moment, I hated my father. I truly hated my father at that moment, because I knew that he had really stopped caring. He didn't even call me that nickname, didn't even call me... 'Demon Child', didn't taunt me for being magical like my mother. He didn't try to even show his loathing for me, and that's when I knew he really stopped caring. Because if you hate someone, you dislike someone, you care about them. But..." I swallowed the lump in my throat, not wanting to let the first sob out.

"Everyone, Gryffindor, every single one of the people who I cared about, they left. My mother, my father, Cynthia. And, I know it's not even been that long, but I like you, Gryffindor, a lot. More than I feel comfortable with, this is uncharted territory for me. And I just, I don't want you to go, or leave, because I don't know how much longer I can go around with this bitchy persona, because it hurts. It hurts to kn- know that I don't deserve getting cared about. And I-" I couldn't even say what I had to, I burst in tears. Lupin didn't waste even a fraction of a second to envelope me in a hug, allowing me to cry my sorrows away.

I had truly never felt more cared about, and safe, than I did in that moment.

•••••

Honestly, my life could have been a teen drama. Four months, four very hectic and possessed months later, after I officially became Remus Lupin's girlfriend, the Dark Lord and his goons found out about it.

And purely because of my knowledge and intellect on dark magic, the Death Eaters had sworn to forever follow me, and give me zero privacy. They often turned into ordinary civilians, I could just tell that they weren't ordinary people going about their ordinary routines; these people were Death Eaters.

So one day, while I was in the old Coffee shop, alone, after a long period of time, my irritatingly impulsive self confronted one such Death Eater in disguise, who just so happened to be one who could not-so-easily overpower me. Yep, you guessed it, none other than Bellatrix LeStrange.

"Can I talk to you?" I asked Bellatrix, who was in disguise of a frail woman with curly ginger hair and big blue eyes.

"Me?" she asked, sounding surprised, and very fake.

"Yes," I replied. "Bellatrix, yes, you," she looked surprised. I don't know what for, though, because her acting was pathetic, and the way her eyes had been trained on me throughout my visit to the cafe was hostile and creepy enough for any normal person to suspect danger.

"I don't know why you and your Death Eaters are stalking me, but I don't like it. So if you could please leave me alone, and let me live my life, it would be heavily appreciated."

The woman, however, only sneered at me, and before I could even snatch my wand out, I had been apparated away.

•••••

Being back at Malfoy Manor was certainly not a pleasant experience; the dungeons of the manor stunk badly, and the fact that there were now more prisoners in it wasn't exactly homely. On top of that, Voldemort seemed adamant on making me one of his Death Eaters.

And he had been successful.

Staying in the same rotten cellar, with its putrid stench and disgusting puddles for an entire twelve days, as far as I'd managed to count, was a tedious task on its own. But when I received torture sessions from Bellatrix LeStrange everyday, where my body would end up feeling sore until the next day, when I had to get tortured again, the twelve days felt to be as long as a century.

Whenever I asked the Death Eaters why they were doing this they would just chortle and leave. So one particular day- or it could have been night, as far as I was concerned - I said something that I would have never, ever said in such a situation, because in all honesty, I wasn't keen on dying. How, or why those words spewed from my mouth, I was unaware, but the damage had already been done, and the Dark Lord had taken offense personally. And so the situation had spiralled out of my control.

"Why doesn't your Dark Lord come here to greet me personally, huh? Why does he send his minions to deal with an innocent prisoner?"

Bella scowled. "It's because the Lord doesn't wish to spend time on half-breed filth such as you; he expects us to take care of people of your likes, and I would be damned if I don't."

"Ha," I laughed, a spiteful, emotionless laugh. "He doesn't want to spend time on half-breed filth like me? Well, tell him I'm not going to subject to his torture. He can hurt me all he wants; I will never become a Death Eater," I sneered at Bellatrix.

She spat at my face. I moved it out of the way. "Well, thank you then. The Dark Lord will be pleased to know that you have already surrendered," and she strutted off, before I could even think to question the meaning of her sadistic grin and the cackle she let out on her way.

••••

Why do I have to be so damn dumb?

I should have let them torture me, hurt me. But no, little miss bad bitch had to go ahead and question the Dark Lord's intentions. And now, I had messed up. Bad. Real bad.

Why? Oh, because this was the question the Dark Lord had posed when he'd come to check my cellar late that same night.

"If you do not wish to be a Death Eater, a devoted follower, then that is fine. But know, that I do have other methods... Forceful methods to get you to submit to me," the Dark Lord had said, in his ominous, whisper voice. "If you are confused as to why the Darkest Wizard of all time is so determined to have you under his wing, then, you may not be as clever and cunning as I expect of you," he'd snarled, his vicious eyes on me.

"I know why, I'm not...," I had sighed, because I had been dumb. "You want me to become a Death Eater because of your brother's soul that resides within me. Maybe... Because I'm into darker forms of magic as well," I had said, straining my voice.

"Hmm, you do, indeed, possess sense. I thought you didn't, for you had very easily given into Bellatrix, a trap... Of sorts... But then again, I expected you to. You may be cunning, but you do not know the full extent of my command and power on people... You couldn't possibly have expected to be aware of your ...relations, with the half breed."

That was when my head had jerked up, looking at the Lord with wide eyes; he didn't even glimpse in my direction.

"I do know, I know... Lord Voldemort knows all... If you do not submit to my will, then, unfortunately, I will have to... attend to the werewolf personally. I will make him feel homely, but yet I assume you wouldn't want me to keep your little lover as a guest..." he'd trailed off, finally stopping his pacing and looking at me, staring down, at my fearful eyes, panic-stricken face, and shaking body.

"You, you- you can't-"

"I can, foolish child, you know that as well... It would be best, then, if you bid your alliegance to me, to the cause... To the Greater Good... Or we can always pay the werewolf a visit..."

"I-" I had looked up at the Dark Lord's merciless slits-for-eyes, and then instantaneously looked down, closing my eyes, but shedding no tears.

"Fine..." I had barely managed to whisper, shaking my head. I had known this was selfish; I should have been fine with sacrificing the Gryffindor for a better world; I would have certainly sacrificed either, or both, of my parents if I had to. But even though I'd met the Gryffindor only about half a year ago, I suddenly realized that I cared about him more than I could've ever imagined. I didn't just love the Gryffindor anymore, no, I was in love with him. And that realization alone was so startling that I had missed hearing the Dark Lord give me instructions on how to dress and when to appear in the Malfoy living room for the ceremony.

For my Death Eater initiation.

•••••

I was currently situated in the centre of the Malfoy Manor's living room, dressed in my usual color, black. Though this time, I was dressed in clothing belonging to Bellatrix LeStrange. My left arm was stretched out, forearm bare, as the Dark Lord approached me, his wand in hand, ready to carve in the ugly stain that would forever bind my alliance with him.

"Hmm... My dear followers," the Dark Lord said, addressing all the Death Eaters that were surrounding us; most of them looking nervous and having a sense of nostalgia to them - not-so-pleasant nostalgia. A few others, and I mean really few others, such as Bella, were grinning. Charming.

"Today is the day... The day when I initiate a Death Eater who's only reason to become a Death Eater, is love, " The Dark Lord taunted and laughed, and his followers chuckled too. "Love for a werewolf, at that... But fear not! She will not betray us... Won't even think about it. Why, might you ask... Because she has the soul of Richard Riddle in her... The soul, of my deceased brother." Although the Dark Lord paused, his followers didn't laugh. "And she's aware that I just have to greet him to cause immeasurable pain to her... She's smart... But above that, she knows that her werewolf will be in danger if she betrays me... But then again, she may go behind my back without me noticing. Like I mentioned earlier, she has great levels of intellect... So, after the Death Eater initiation, I will bind her in an Unbreakable Vow."

What?!

"Don't look surprised... It was expected... Even if the scarcest bit," he said, words aimed towards me. "But first, you will be initiated. And to be initiated, you have to kill someone..." I wasn't aware of that.

"Bring her in!" the Dark Lord said in a higher voice, and soon the lump body of a girl was levitated inside the room. The girl, brunette and with blue eyes, looked painfully familiar, but due to all the panic and dread swirling around my gut, I just couldn't place it. It was the kind of feeling you got when there was a word, right on the tip of your tongue, but you still couldn't place it.

As the spells were removed from the female's body, she fell to the ground, her hands supporting her fall, hair messily framing her face. She could be clearly heard sobbing. I watched, scared, as I pondered on how I was going to kill the poor girl. Said girl looked up and around, and when her eyes fell on Voldemort, she started sobbing even louder, pleading to anyone and everyone.

Her cries and pleas were blatantly ignored, however, as the Dark Lord turned to me. He didn't need to say anything, I knew what I was supposed to do. And so, knowing that there was no way out, I raised my wand at the girl, who screamed when she saw me go through the motions. She shook her head, crawling over and grabbing me legs, howling, wailing, begging for me to spare her.

I knew that maybe, maybe I wouldn't have to murder anyone in the end, if the spell fell short. It obviously was a tricky spell, the Avada Kedavra, so I might be spared of murdering someone.

So I raised my wand, fully confident that it wouldn't work, and meeting the girl's eyes, muttered the spell. Except my fantasies didn't come true. Perhaps, it was because of the other, very powerful soul that inhabited my body, alongside my own soul, but it worked.

The spell worked.

The Avada Kedavra worked. I had just committed a murder.

And just as the gravity and guilt of that situation fell upon my shoulder, I realized something else as well.

Those striking blue eyes, they could belong to only one person. And that was Crystal Hollander. The face shape, the body, the eyes, everything was same except the hair. I had not just murdered someone, I had murdered Crystal Hollander's sister.

But I wasn't given time to hate myself, though. The Dark Lord let out a low chuckle, swished his wand, and the dead body disappeared. I looked up. "Killing someone for the first time can be traumatic; more so when you do it against your will. But we'll, it does not do well do dwell on the past. Bring out your arm." I did.

The Dark Lord wandlessly cast a spell, and the skin on my left forearm begun to burn, and not just tingling burn. My skin was getting scarred, and then it was being cut through, albeit in the shape of the Dark Mark. I bled, and finally, an inky black hue covered my scarred and bleeding skin, and when it cleared, only smooth skin and the Dark Mark was left behind. The pain hadn't stopped, though.

The Death Eaters all remained silent. The Dark Lord then held out his left arm, and looked up at me, right in the eyes. It felt like he was piercing through my soul, and considering who we were talking about, he probably could. At first, I just stared right back at him, confused as to what his want was. But then it clicked, and so I joined hands with him. He then ordered Rudolphus LeStrange to come forward and carry out the vow.

After the Dark Lord turned to Rudolphus and conveyed the vows to Rudolphus through his, what I could only assume, mind, using legilimency, Rudolphus nodded out of his daze and started speaking, whilst casting the spell.

"Do you forever vow your services, as well as allegiance, to the Dark Lord?" he asked.

Nervously, and after taking a breath, I replied, "Yes." A thin golden tendril of magic came out of his wand and wrapped around our joined hands.

"Do you vow to never break the Dark Lord's trust?"

"Yes." Another tendril came and wrapped it around us.

"And finally, do you vow to swear on your life, that you will always bear the Dark Mark, and to serve your Lord, die for him?"

I swallowed. "Y-yes."

The golden tendril burst into sparkles, and then someone spoke. It was the Dark Lord this time.

"Well, welcome... To the ranks of a Death Eater."

.....

3 more months had passed since that initiation, and I was miserable. I had constantly been asked to carry out Death Eater-esque tasks; taking part in attacks, killing and torturing people, the likes. I was also being trained. And I wasn't aware why I'd been surprised in the first place, because it was painfully obvious that such tasks were part of being a Death Eater.

My relationship with the Gryffindor, if you could still even call it that, was going as strong as ever. We still hung out all the time, read books together, and visited the quaint little Cafe.

It had been one month since I'd confronted Lupin about his furry little secret, and he had looked as scared as I could've possibly thought. I'd quickly calmed him down, though, but still he wouldn't listen. He'd apparated away. I'd followed. We had both ended up in different places; knowing Lupin's address, I'd apparated there later, and found said man messing his room up.

Sparing the details, one thing led to another, and we both had ended up taking each other's clothes off, and me telling the man that I loved him; my feelings were reciprocated. Thank Salazar I'd been using a cosmetic spell to cover up my Mark, or things would've gotten messy. Little did I know, they were soon about to.

Sooner than I was comfortable with.

.....

I was sat in the Gryffindor's bed, inside his apartment. Said Gryffindor was currently preparing tea in the kitchen, while I was engrossed in a book about lethal magical creatures.

I had arrived about an hour ago; Lupin had invited me yesterday, but I couldn't come due to a Death Eater attack that I'd been involved in. My injuries and bruises had all been covered up by cosmetic spells and my usual form of clothing: long sleeves. However, I hadn't covered my Mark, because there there was a gash going through it, and there was a bandage wrapped around it; I simply had been too lazy too use a cosmetic spell, even though parts of my Mark were still visible.

I was just about to reach the end of the Vampire chapter, when I heard a distant crack, and the opening of a door. My eyebrows furrowed as I closed my book without even marking the page; who would separate here, at this time? It was probably the Gryffindor's friends, Black and Potter and Pettigrew, but Lupin had said that he'd informed them he was busy today.

Ignoring all the questions in my mind, I swung my legs around the bed, and walked to the living room.

"Lupin, who is it?" Only I needn't ask, because the golden-blonde hair and the Boston dress was enough proof. Crystal Hollander.

I immediately grew nervous; even though she didn't know I killed her sister, I still had an uneasy knot in my stomach.

"Hollander? What ar-"

The girl whipped her head around, looking livid. Lupin peered at me from behind her.

"You!" she exclaimed, pointing one of her sharp nails at me, nostrils flaring. "You filthy Death Eater!"

I tried not to show my surprise, but still my eyes widened a bit, and my brows raised. It was often that people mistook me for a Death Eater, courtesy of my interests in Dark Magic and fashion sense, but I had never ever felt as queasy as I did at that moment.

"What?"

"What?"

Lupin and I asked at the same time.

"Don't 'what?' me!" Hollander exclaimed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about! You were there, present at the Death Eater attack yesterday!"

"I... Know that," I said. "I was present at the Death Eater attack yesterday. That's why there's all this," I pointed at my split lip and the light bruise on my cheekbone, "on my face."

Hollander let out a frustrated groan/scream at the same time. "Could you stop being so irritating and ju-" the girl's eyes fell on my left forearm. Oh no. "Show me your arm."

"What? Why?"

"Because that's where the Mark is, isn't it? Huh? That's why you're so-"

I let out a typical forced breath of mine, and rolling my eyes, said, "Look, Hollander. I understand that being the reason for my friend's very gruesome death, you're traumatised, and probably have PTSD-"

"What's PTSD?"

"-but that doesn't give you a right to harass me. I know that you want to reduce your guilt, even though I'm pretty sure you don't even have a guilt complex. But I won't have it. Get out," and with that and a sharp glare, I turned on my heel, all ready to walk away, when a voice stopped me.

"Stop..." I turned around at the Gryffindor's voice, looking at him incredulously. "Just show the arm to her... and me," he said, looking stern.

I opened my mouth, trying to say something, but nothing would come out. I probably looked like a fish.

Clenching my jaw, hard, I put a hand on the sleeve of my left arm, ready to lift it. I already was ready to take out my wand.

Closing my eyes, I pulled up my sleeve, and as soon as i was done, I whipped out my wand. It was the right time, too, as Hollander pointed her wand at me at the same time. However, before she could do anything, I Petrificus Totalus-ed her.

My head then swiveled towards Lupin, who was now staring at me with a blank expression. But even though his expression was blank, I knew he was broken inside. His eyes said it all.

"Remus, I can explain, plea-"

"Stupefy! " I took a step to the side, but instead, Lupin got hit.

"Remus!"

"Gryffindor!" hearing the other call of his name, I turned around, meeting the furious eyes of Black, Evans and Potter. Apparently, through all this drama, those three had also made it here. How, I didn't know, because I was sure Lupin had asked them not to. But that didn't matter. They were livid.

Before I could even breathe, they were shooting spells at me, and I was shooting spells at them.

I did the only thing I could possibly do. Which was also incredibly stupid. I pressed on my Mark, and called the other Death Eaters. I was so dumb.

After a long and complicated duel, I finally mustered the courage to cast a spell that I was never able to carry out before. "Prorsus Defixit!" it was just a stronger version of the petrifying spell.

Thankfully, maybe due to the adrenalin in my body, the spell worked, and all three Gryffindors fell to the floor, rigid.

I then turned to look at Lupin and Hollander, who were both also passed out. Well, that was great, but what was I to do about the Death Eater situation? I had acted foolishly, and in a panic, invited Death Eaters here; I guess my reflexes acted out - I had just grown used to calling other Death Eaters when I was in a tight situa-

Crack!

I was too late.

They were already here.

.....

I hoped the Gryffindors were doing well in the Malfoys' dungeons.

It was yesterday when the Death Eaters came and abducted them, and since then they'd been chained up in the cellars.

I hadn't been allowed to visit them, though. Not yet. The Dark Lord though it'd be better for me to be part of a few 'missions'. Why he thought so, I was unaware.

But one thing was clear. I had landed myself in deep shit.

I had been the reason for four people to be held prisoner, out of which three were Order members, one was out for revenge on me, and one was the man I loved.

Wonderful.

.....

Two days later, I was asked to visit my... those Gryffindors.

I was nerve wracked, and rightfully so, too. It wasn't everyday you got to visit your captive boyfriend.

As I made my way through the ominous hallways and staircases of the Malfoy Manor, I thought. The Dark Lord had said that he wanted me to be part of his ranks due to my cunning and cleverness, and knowledge; he'd said a contributing factor was the fact that I was possessed by the soul of his deceased brother. But that was the thing though, he hadn't really even conversed with his brother after I was turned a Death Eater, only a couple times at most. Even then, the pain hadn't lasted that long. And about the intelligence part, he hadn't really tested my wit, or cunning.

It was all so strange. It felt so... normal, now. It always had, even though it never should've. I was literally demonically possessed, but that issue felt so insignificant amidst all my other issues. For example, the fact that the person I'd become a Death Eater for was now hostage, that too because of me. And then, what Dumbledore said. Richard Riddle's soul would never really leave my body; not until the Dark Lord had really died. As in, even his soul was no more. But Dumbledore had said that that wouldn't be possible; not until all parts of his soul were destroyed. Not until the horcruxes were destroyed. And that was near to impossible.

I had asked Dumbledore why the soul just took home in me, why it didn't really possess me, as in control me. He'd said it was because Richard's soul was too weak. He just had one horcrux.

I didn't even realize when I reached the dungeon. I had almost barged into Magnus Fawley; thankfully, I caught myself.

He smirked at me.

I glared at him.

We went our separate ways - me into the cellar, him out of the dungeons.

As I walked in, I noticed that the people chained were all huddled close together. It wasn't really a very important detail, just a mere observation.

My footsteps indicated the prisoners of my arrival, and they looked up. Black, Potter and Hollander glared. Evans seemed as though she was trying to glare, but she couldn't because she was weak. And lupin - oh, his reaction broke my heart - he didn't even have a reaction; he was blank, not meeting my eyes.

I met all of their eyes, and masking my hurt, sat opposite them.

Hollander was already at it.

"You! You Death Eater scum! You're the reason we're all here! What did you lot do to my sist-?"

I groaned. "Hollander," I looked her dead in the eye. "Shut. Up. "

"You can't ask me to shut up! What did you do with my sister, huh? I always knew you were shady, reading those nasty books! You killed her, did you? I'm sure you did! Had fun doing it too, I reckon," she spat at me, her eyes seeing red, nose breathing fire. "And then- then you betray Remus! You loved him, didn't you? Bet it was all a plot, a, a grand scheme! " Her nostrils flared.

Before the Blondie could start again, I Silencio-ed her. She looked comedic.

"Why'd you do that, huh? Death Eater? "

That hurt.

I then mustered up all the self control and braveness I had, and spoke up. "Black, what do you take me for-?"

"-A death Eater, perhaps?"

"-,I'm not just going to sit here and let her blame me for something I very clearly did," I rolled my eyes. Lupin looked up, but looked down again almost instantaneously.

"So... You did kill Hollander's sister?"

"No, I didnt-"

"Oh, don't be modest. You did," Rabastan drawled, smirking, as he strolled in. I snapped my head at him, glaring venomously. Hollander's jaw dropped.

"She looked disgusted with herself; should be, too. Considering the Dark Lord had her in his ranks just because his dea-"

"If you don't shut up now, LeStarnge, I will castrate you."

"Oh, does little miss halfblood even know the spell for that?"

"You wanna see? Don't try me." I raised my brow at him, as his smirk faltered. He then drawled out monotonously, "The Dark Lord needs you to take care of our guests."

"I already am."

"You need to torture them," my jaw clenched. "Bellatrix will help you," and with a devious smirk, he sauntered out.

Although i didn't wish to, I really didn't, I knew the Dark Lord would do it himself and make me watch if I didn't do it. So standing up, I walked to the prisoners, standing in front of them.

"You really are-"

"Filthy? Scum? A git? A prat? A backstabbing cockroach? Thanks so much," I said uninterestedly to Black. "now, who would like to go first?"

"Look, you can't torture Lily."

"And why is it so, Potter?" I looked down at him.

"She... She's pregnant."

My eyes widened and brows raised. "You both thought it would be a good idea to bring a new life to this world during such times? You had sex with your wife in the midst of a war, and got her pregnant? How did you even have time for that?" I looked at him incredulously. He was turning scarlet, while his wife was too tired to even notice.

"You should always use protection." and with that, I pointed my wand at Evans, casting a spell. It wasn't Crucio, though, even I wasn't that heartless. It was imperio, and I forced the woman to writhe and thrash and scream, looking expressionless, all while the others, even Lupin, shouted and cursed at me. Soon, I was done with her and moved onto Black.

Him, though, I used cruciatus. I couldn't afford being caught.

I was done with him after a good ten minutes, and then as I moved to Lupin, Bellatrix entered, cackling.

She immediately went for Evans; she was the mudblood.

"I'm done with the mud blood, you attend to Hollander and Potter."

She went to Hollander first, and tortured her. Tortured her so badly, it was difficult to even look at. Even worse, she'd been cackling through it all. As I moved to Potter, I asked her to stop. She didn't. I asked again.

"Stop it, Bellatrix, that's enough." no response.

"Stop it, Bella." Nope.

"Bellatrix, please, you're going to hurt her more than necessary," My pleas rang out between all the Gryffindors'.

"Enough, Bellatrix!" I exclaimed. I just knew that Richard had taken over; that was clear by the looks everyone was giving me. "Thats... Enough. Just, go out, please."

And she did. Without a question.

.....

It had been after 4 days of the Gryffindprs as our prisoners, when there was a break in at the Manor, obviously by the Order.

I rushed to the dungeons; however on the final stair, collided with the Gryffindors. Immediately casting a shield spell around myself, I took a step back.

I then removed the spell.

"You can go," they looked suspicious, so I dropped my wand. "I... Go. Just be careful, Potter. Prophecies... " I decided not to tell them too much, as even I wasn't fully sure of what was happening.

"Be careful." and with that, I stepped back, making way for them.

As the group walked past me, wands aimed, still suspicious, I called after them. Also, could you, maybe... Make me pass out?"

.....

It had been fifteen years. Fifteen years since I let those Gryffindors elope, most of whom had dreadful fates. Fifteen years since I'd seen Lupin.

You see, maybe it was just destiny being cruel, but up until Voldemort's (yes, I call him that now, I'm brave) downfall, me and Lupin had never crossed paths. After the Potters' deaths, I'd left the country, becoming a wanderer. I changed my name and past each time; sometimes I was a hippie, sometimes a businesswoman, sometimes a struggling artist.

But now, as I set foot inside Grimmauld Place, my nerves wracked again. I would see Lupin, and maybe he wouldn't even remember me.

But I, however, was still nervous. I was about to meet the boy who lived. I was about to meet Black. I was about to meet all those Order members I said I didn't trust. And I was going to be helping them.

The papers in my hands were quite important.

I knocked on the door. A chubby woman opened the door; that was probably Molly Weasley.

Her face fell. "You're here... The meeting got over-"

"I'm aware. I was... A bit busy," I held up the papers. "Could you please...?" I motioned inside, and Molly moved aside. I walked in, following the path I knew led to the dining room.

"Dear, they're having-"

"Dinner? That won't be a problem." I smiled at Molly as I turned the knob of the dining room's door, and all eyes turned to me. Among them was a pair of light greenish-blue eyes that I'd craved to see, bit I couldn't meet.

I raised an eyebrow. "Well, isn't this a pretty sight." I smiled a sickeningly sweet smile and entered, everyone still gazing at me. Black was clutching his fork so hard his knuckles were going white, while. molly still looked troubled.

"Greetings," I scanned the crowd, "Gryffindors." my eyebrows jumped. I dropped the papers right in front of Black.

"Here is your information. You're welcome. I now must leave, because I have work to att-"

"Who are you?"

"-end. You should never interrupt," I said, looking pointedly at Potter Jr. "Even if you are the boy who lived."

"I-" Potter was cut off by Black.

"He asked something, why don't you answer him?" Ugh. And they say Slytherins are evil.

I thought a bit. Then, "I'm the reason you even got the chance to be born." The Potter boy looked confused, but before he could ask, someone spoke up. Go to hell, Black.

"How so?"

"Could you not interrupt in between? That's what I just told the boy, but then again, you are excruciatingly dumb."

"I'm not dumb. I just pointed something out. And you're one to say; Miss-I'm-So-Edgy."

"Oh well, Mister-I'm-an-adult-but-still-a-child, you could maybe not have interrupted in between of a conversation?"

"You're so difficult."

"You're dense, and a literal man-child."

"You're evil, and nutty."

"You're annoying, and a pathetic drama queen. I'm a hundred percent sure that when you met your Godson, who thought you were a murderer, and confronted that rat, you said something along the lines of," I cleared my throat, " 'Only one shall die tonight.' and then went off behaving immature."

Judging by the look on his face, I was right.

I smirked, and then, to Potter, said, "Potter Jr., there was once a time when your parents, along with a few dear friends were locked up in the dungeons of the Malfoy Manor, and I was tasked with taking care-torturing them, if you will," I raised an eyebrow, "And your father had been dumb enough to have se-"

"Stop-"

"-Could you please not interrupt me, Black?" I said, frustrated.

"Well, you were about to-"

"-Tell the boy that his parents had sex? Well, Black, he has to be really thick to not know about that-"

"-He's just 15-!"

"-just 15?" I scoffed. "You had bedded half the Hogwarts population by the age of fifteen, Black, and then some." That made him shut up. I smirked again. He narrowed his eyes.

"so, mini Potter, your mum was dumb enough to have sex and get pregnant amidst a war, and she was pregnant in the Malfoy dungeons. And do you know what? If I'd tortured your mum, you would have lost your life in her womb. There would be no 'The Boy Who Lived', and Voldemort would've reigned. But I didn't. Because there were prophecies involved, and spirits, too."

I knew that was way too vague and cryptic, but that was all I said.

And as I turned and left the room to apparate away I could faintly hear the conversations inside.

"Who was she?"

Lupin sighed. "My ex-girlfriend."

I smiled, and then was engulfed in smoke as I apparated away.

[slapshot-to-the-heart]

Death by a Thousand Cuts - j. debrusk

Trying to venture into some new territory, let me know what you think! Title’s from the Taylor Swift song. 4.8k of post-breakup Jake DeBrusk angst, as always, I love hearing feedback! I read all the tags, so feel free to reblog, pop into my inbox, anything!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a full-bodied Syrah - smooth, fruity, the kind of wine I’d want to drink if I was sad. 

My heart, my hips, my body, my love/Trying to find a part of me you didn’t touch

Shadi threw back another shot, wincing as the vodka burned down her throat. Clara rubbed her back sympathetically. “Better?” She shrugged. Alcohol was great for forgetting things, but there were some wounds too fresh and too deep for even a Sazerac to cure. And her wounds were named Jake DeBrusk.

Jake had been her everything, still was her everything, and the idea that she was somehow now in charge of forgetting everything they had shared was more than she could bear. Breakups weren’t something Shadi took lightly, and especially when she had spent the past year falling more in love with him with each breath she took. Forgetting more than a year’s worth of early-morning conversations in his bed, Jake’s hand gently brushing back her hair before kissing her temple and going out to the kitchen to start the coffee pot. Shadi couldn’t start her day without coffee. A year’s worth of games, up in the box with the other WAGs and down in the tunnel, their lips crashing together in the euphoria of a post-win high. A year’s worth of vacations, to Edmonton to visit his family and Dallas to see hers, laying on the white sand beaches of Tahiti in the summer. A year’s worth of falling asleep to him tracing lines between the freckles on her bare back in the glow of the post-sex fog. It wasn’t like she was going to forget any of it anytime soon. And if Shadi was being honest with herself, it wasn’t like she wanted to. 

---

Shadi met Jake just after moving into her new apartment with Clara, her best friend from BC, when they decided to celebrate their newfound jobs and independence with a bar crawl. As luck would have it, they never actually made it past the first one. Clara had just finished up her first week as a tenth grade English teacher, and Shadi had the weekend to relax before her marketing analytics post started on Monday. 

She wasn't going out to meet someone, not really, but if there was someone attractive enough and charming enough she wasn’t absolutely opposed to spending the night in a bed that wasn’t her own. Shadi sat at the bar, responding to a few texts and sipping her drink as she waited for Clara to return from the bathroom. She wasn’t paying enough attention to her surroundings to notice someone sidle up next to her, getting a little too close for comfort. “Hey,” he said loudly, startling her. Shadi looked up — way up, he was at least six or seven inches taller than her 5’5 — to the stranger’s face, flashing a tight smile. She didn’t know any women who particularly liked to be accosted in the middle of a drink. 

“Hey,” she said. 

He inched closer. “I’m Darren, nice to meet you.”

As much as she’d really just like to be able to tell the guy to fuck all the way off, Shadi hated that it was a far better decision for her safety and security to just try and tacitly go along with it. Let him down easy. 

“Shadi,” she responded. 

He whistled, and she internally cringed, trying as subtly as she could to look towards the bathrooms and trying to spot Clara. More than once, they had pretended to be a couple at bars to get each other out of situations exactly like this one. “Shadi,” he said, testing out the name. “What is that? Arabic? Indian?”

Now she visibly cringed, raising her eyebrows. Great, he’s racist as well as a creep. “Neither. I’m Persian.” 

“Cool, super cool,” he said, nodding. “So, Shadi, what brings you here?”

“Starting a new job next week,” she said, looking back down at her phone, trying to give him just enough information to keep him from being pissed at her. 

Darren finished his drink. “That’s cool, yeah. Good for you. I work in finance. High-level account managing and stuff. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I like the challenge.” Great, add finance bro to the list of reasons why I’ll never go home with this guy, Shadi thought. 

“Nice,” Shadi said, looking away and taking a sip of her drink and trying her damndest to make it clear she wasn’t interested. 

Darren moved even closer, his hand now resting on her waist as Shadi leaned as far away from him as she could while still staying on her seat, looking frantically around for Clara, or anyone, to bail her out. “You come here with anyone?”

“Uh, yeah,” Shadi said nervously, eyes still sweeping the room. “My boyfriend should be around here somewhere.” Darren didn’t need to know she didn’t have a boyfriend, and as much as she hated that men like him were more likely to leave her alone if they thought she was spoken for than if she told him herself she wasn’t interested, it was the best thing she could do in the moment. 

Darren took a cursory glance around the room. “I don’t see anyone coming,” he noted. “You sure about that, Shadi?

“Yes,” she squeaked, as his hand tightened around her waist and she froze like a deer in headlights, too stiff to flag down the bartender.

“It’s polite to look at people when they’re talking to you, or did they not teach that where you’re from?” 

Shaking, she turned back to look at him. “I’m from Texas,” she spat. 

“I think we could really have some fun together, if you’d just stop being so uptight we could really—” Darren didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, his arm being forcefully removed from her waist. She swung around, meeting the eyes of her unknown savior, who was too busy glaring at the man across from her to even meet her eyes. 

“Seems like you’re having a hard time taking no for an answer,” he said. 

Darren looked up, rubbing his wrist from where it had been in a vice grip only moments before. “You the boyfriend?”

The other man didn’t even flinch. “Yeah, I’m the boyfriend. Even if I wasn’t, she clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you, but she’s just too polite to tell you to fuck off. Luckily,” he smirked. “I’m not.”

Darren rolled his eyes, grabbing his half-empty glass and inching away from the bar. “Whatever. Wouldn’t have been worth it anyways.” 

Shadi collapsed into her hands as soon as he was out of earshot, breathing shakily. The stranger reached out tentatively, rubbing her shoulder to comfort her. “You okay?”

She leaned back, taking another drink and nodding. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be okay, it’s not like it’s the first time this has happened. He just really didn’t want to leave me alone and I couldn’t find my friend and he didn’t seem to be getting the message that I wasn’t interested.” 

He grimaced. “On behalf of my entire gender, I apologize for all the shitty men you have ever had to encounter.”

“Thank you,” she said, laughing slightly and setting her glass back down on the bar. “And thanks for stepping in, you really didn’t have to.”

He shook his head. “I just did what any decent guy would do. I’ve got a sister, girls deserve to feel safe in bars.”

“Regardless,” she added, “I appreciated it. And just so you know,” she said, pausing, “you don’t have to worry about an actual boyfriend coming around. I’ve just found it’s the easiest way for guys to leave me alone.” Shadi surprised herself; she wasn’t normally this bold. 

He dipped his head. “Good to know. Probably should properly introduce myself, then. Jake DeBrusk,” he said, sticking his hand out. 

“Shadi Azizi.” She shook it, smirking slightly as she took a sip of her drink. “I know.” 

He smiled bashfully, scratching his head. “Hockey fan?” 

She nodded. “I’ll go to Bruins games when I can make it, but I’m from Dallas, so…” she shrugged. 

“You’ve already sold your soul to the Stars,” Jake finished. 

Shadi laughed. “Yep. You can take the girl out of Texas, but you can’t take the Texas out of the girl.”

Jake eyed her glass, seeing that she was nearly finished. “Can I get you another?” Shadi nodded after a moment. “Sure.” He caught the bartender’s eye. “What are you drinking?” “Whiskey on the rocks.” Jake leaned back on his stool, clutching his hands over his chest. “A woman after my own heart.”

---

Three months later, it was November, and Shadi was in Jake’s kitchen, doling out Chinese takeout onto two plates. “Beer?” she asked over the counter, to where Jake was flopped on the couch, flipping through channels in hopes of finding something mildly interesting to watch.

“Yes please,” he shot back. He had just gotten back from a road trip that afternoon, eleven days in the Midwest, and there were few things he wanted more than to be back in Shadi’s arms. They had started a sort of unspoken tradition; Shadi had taken to spending the night whenever Jake came back from a road trip, and he wasn’t about to start complaining. He loved his job and he loved his team, but after a week or two of being around them practically 24/7, he didn’t want to waste any time getting back to her. 

Shadi padded back towards the living room, sliding a plate of lo mein and fried rice over to Jake, who leaned in and kissed her shoulder. “Thanks, babe,” he said, putting the remote down. “Parks and Rec good with you?”

She nodded, mouth full. “Doesn’t take much to convince me. I’d kill a man for Leslie Knope.”

Jake laughed. Shadi looked over at him, one eyebrow raised. “You think I’m joking?”

He held his free hand up in mock surrender, the other balancing his plate on the arm of the couch. “I should have known better. Will you ever forgive me?”

“Maybe,” Shadi said, scrunching up her nose. “I think I can find it somewhere deep in the recesses of my cold, dead heart.” 

Things between Jake and Shadi had gotten pretty serious pretty quickly, certainly more quickly than Jake was expecting. But, as he was realizing, that wasn’t exactly a bad thing. The scene was definitely more domestic than he was used to; it wasn’t unusual for him and Shadi to join some of their friends or the team for a night out at the bars or clubs, but it was just as common to have an evening in. It was nice, being together like this. Domesticity was never something that was quite his style, but as he thought, looking over at Shadi, who was entirely engrossed in Leslie’s valiant attempts to control a town hall meeting, maybe it could become his style.

You said it was a great love, one for the ages/But if the story’s over, why am I still writing pages?

It was the end of January, and Shadi was in Edmonton. Jake had told her about Boston’s bye week about two months earlier, the plan having originally been to drive up to New Hampshire for a week of camping in White Mountain. But then Jake had been selected for the All-Star Team, much to his surprise — not Shadi’s, who had been convinced he’d be picked practically since the season started —  and their schedule had been turned on its head. He had decided that it would make more sense to visit his family. Shadi didn’t complain; she had just started to get used to Boston winters, and wasn’t confident in her ability to go a week in a tent in the middle of January.

What surprised her, though, was when he invited her to come with him. She had never met his parents in person before. Over FaceTime, sure, but it wasn’t the same. Jake was initially very shy about extending the invitation, almost as if he wasn’t sure if that was something she wanted or was ready for. His concern was sweet, but Shadi was more touched that he had asked her to come in the first place, and put in her request for vacation time that night. 

The flight wasn’t much over six hours, a short layover in Montréal and one connection later and they landed in Edmonton. Shadi met up with Jake just outside of passport control, pulling her pea coat tightly around herself. “Ooh,” she said, breathing out shakily. “Bit chilly here, no?”

Jake laughed. Oh, if only she knew. “Wait till you get outside, babe. It’s January in the middle of Alberta.”

“How bad can it get?” Shadi asked naively. Pretty bad, as she found out the moment they stepped outside the terminal into the freezing air. She was suddenly very grateful her parka was in her bag, a Patagonia jacket that had been one of her first big purchases when she moved to Boston. Jake was having a very good fun time poking fun at her in the three minutes it took for his parents to pull up. 

“Aww, is my Texas girl cold? Is she having trouble dealing with real weather?”

Shadi glared at him. “Shut up.”

His parents were incredible, kind and welcoming from the moment they picked them up at the airport. They drove them back to Jake’s childhood home, where his sister greeted her with a hug. She had visited Boston a few weeks prior, her and Shadi immediately getting along thanks to their shared taste in coffee orders and music. They had swapped Spotify playlists more than one time since her visit. 

The week she spent in Edmonton was amazing. Even though she may have been a little bit apprehensive from the start, all of her worries were just distant memories by the time they had to get back on the plane. She had always been good with parents; whether it was her best friend or her boyfriend, they had always liked her. Making a good impression and being unfailingly respectful, especially to her elders, was a value that had been instilled in her from a young age. She had brought a tin of qurabiya on the plane as a gift for them, after a half-dozen Google searches to make sure she could bring them across the border and a twenty minute long phone call with her mom to make sure she was using the right type of almonds. They loved them, and seeing the tin already empty on the third day of her trip filled her heart.

“She’s really good for you, you know,” his mom said, as he was packing his suitcase for the flight back. “You’re still you, fun and spontaneous and caring. But you’re a more mature, thoughtful version of yourself. And I think that’s thanks to Shadi.”

Jake blushed, shoving his toothbrush in his toiletry bag. “She is. She’s great, Mom. We have so much fun together, and she really does bring out the best in me.” He paused for a moment. “I think I’m in love with her.”

His mom raised her eyebrows, not surprised and certainly not disappointed, but a little astonished that he had realized himself what she saw from the moment they had landed in Canada. She had just been waiting for him to admit it. “You do?” she asked, a hint of a smile on her face.

He nodded, more sure this time. “I’m in love with her, Mom.”

Quiet my fears with the touch of your hand/Paper cut stings from our paper-thin plans

“You doing okay, babe?” Clara asked gently, one hand on Shadi’s back as she nursed her third beer of the night. Shadi reached up to try and wipe away her tears. Thank God she hadn’t worn any mascara. She nodded, trying to flash her best friend a smile, but it didn’t meet her eyes. 

Shadi hadn’t ever been the kind of person to put up walls. That was Jake’s thing. But she was a great actress, and if Clara hadn’t known her as well as she did, she wouldn’t have been able to call her on it. 

“Bullshit, Shadi. You’re not fine and I know it. You know it.” God, Clara could read her like a book. It wasn’t okay, she wasn’t okay, and she sure as hell wasn’t over him. She didn’t know when she would be over him. If ever. 

They said that Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it burned in one. If Rome was a metaphor for their relationship, Shadi would say there’s never been a more accurate phrase. All it took was five minutes for Jake to break her heart, for the world they had built together to come crumbling apart around her. As much as she hated it, there was still a part of her that couldn’t help but try to look back on that night. Shadi almost called bullshit on him the moment he said he was breaking up with her, because he had never even brought it up before, and that’s not something you just drop on someone like he did, right? But she didn’t, she hadn’t gotten closure and hadn’t gotten a reason, an actual reason, and so any curly hair she saw out of the corner of her eye that night she kept hoping was Jake’s, and any cocky smile from some guy trying to buy her a drink — she’d let them, for the free alcohol, but they never got a conversation out of her — she kept wishing was his. 

---

It was September, and Shadi felt like she was walking on air. She and Jake had celebrated their one year anniversary a month ago, and things couldn’t be going better. Training camp for the new season had started, which had begun to take up more of his time than she maybe would have liked, but she was dealing with it. They both were. It was like Shadi had told him two months into their relationship, and countless times since: she knew what she was signing up for, knew that sometimes she would have to take a backseat to hockey, and she was okay with that. Having Jake some of the time was better than not having him at all. 

So when Jake had texted her that morning, asking if she was free to come over that night, she thought nothing of it. Well, scratch that, she thought a lot of it. It had been about two weeks since they had had a proper date night; while she loved him sneaking into her apartment to sleep for a few hours before he had to get up or meeting in the mornings for coffee and bagels, they were in desperate need of some alone time. Jake hadn’t exactly been distant since their anniversary, but it had definitely seemed like something was on his mind. And when she asked Clara, or her older sister Yasmin, or Hannah, her best friend in Houston, they all said the same thing. If nothing seemed like it was going wrong, but he was seeming distant, but they were still communicating, then there was really only one possibility, at least according to them. He was going to propose. 

So Shadi took a little longer in front of the mirror, put on her good jeans instead of just a pair of sweats, ran a comb through her hair. She grabbed her car keys, locking the door to her apartment and nervously pressing on the elevator button. Why was she nervous? She was in love with Jake. She saw a future with him, a future together. If tonight was going to be the start of forever, there was nothing to be afraid of. I wonder what Jake’s doing now, Shadi thought. Was he waiting for her on the couch? Trying to cook pasta, the only dinner he could reliably make without burning? Pacing back and forth in his room, turning over the ring box in his hand? The ring. What did it look like? Did he buy it new, or was it a family heirloom? Did he ask any of the guys on the team for tips, or did — Stop it, Shadi reminded herself. He doesn’t have to be proposing. We do nights in almost every week. Maybe he just wants to watch a movie. But in the back of her mind, as she pulled out of the parking garage, was the possibility that she was about to walk into one of the most important nights of her life. And it was, but not in the way she thought. Not in the way she wanted. 

Jake’s place was only ten minutes away from hers; before she even knew it, she was killing the engine and walking up the stairs to his door. She tapped her knuckles against the wood. It was barely ten seconds before Jake opened it up, smiling at her.  “Hey, thanks for coming over,” he said, leading her into the living room and pressing a kiss against her cheek, lingering a little longer than usual 

Shadi knew something was off even as they sat on the couch thirty minutes later, Star Wars playing on the screen in front of them. If she was being honest, she knew something was wrong from the moment she got there. Jake was acting stuff, not distant, but almost confused. LIke he had something on his mind that he couldn’t quite spit out. And it didn’t seem like a proposal. “Alright,” Shadi said, huffing and propping herself up on one arm to face Jake. “What’s up.”

To his credit, he didn’t mince words, didn’t play dumb. He knew better than to insult her intelligence like that, and she knew better than to believe him. “You noticed, huh?”

She rolled her eyes. “I love you for a lot of reasons, J, but you really do have a terrible poker face.”

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair, leaving a piece hanging in front of his eye. “Alright,” he said, in that kind of I-know-what-I-need-to-say-but-I-don’t-want-to-say-it tone, the one that she wasn’t expecting. The one that never means good news. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking on my life, our lives over the past thirteen months we’ve been together, and I’ve loved every minute of the time that we’ve spent together.” Okay, Shadi furrowed her brows, where’s he going with this? “I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking about my priorities in life, where they are right now and where I think they should be. And I’ve realized that,” he swallowed, “I’m at a place in my life where I need to be focusing on hockey.” Oh no. “And I don’t think I’m in a position where I can have a relationship and be as invested in my career as I need to be.” Oh God. 

Shadi sat up, stunned. “Are you...Are you breaking up with me?” 

Jake nodded his head jerkily. “And I want you to know that I don’t regret anything about our relationship. I don’t have anything bad to say about you, or the time we’ve spent together, or anything. I just don’t think I’m able to give you, or our relationship, the attention it deserves. You deserve someone who’s going to be able to dedicate a hundred percent to you, and as much as I wish I could, I don’t think I’m that person.”

“So, you’re saying I’m a distraction?” Shadi asked slowly, her eyes shiny with unshed tears. 

Jake ran a hand through his hair, tangling his fingers in his curls. “Fuck. No. That’s not it. I just don’t know if I’m in a place where I’m able to juggle two things that are so important, and that I want to dedicate this much time to.” 

She scoffed. “Are you really trying to pull the whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ line with me, DeBrusk?” That stung. She never called him by his last name, not even when they started dating. It was J, or babe, or even Jake if she was particularly annoyed, but never just DeBrusk. 

“Would it make you feel better if I was?” 

Shadi shook her head. “It’s worse. Don’t you know that it’s worse? Because then there’s not anything I feel like I could have done differently. Nothing I could have done to change your mind.” Her eyes drifted down to her right hand, where the gorgeous pearl ring Jake had gotten her for their anniversary just a month prior sat on her ring finger. “You said you were going to marry me one day,” Shadi said, sliding her fingertips down to the band and gently twisting it off. Her hand felt bare, even though it had only been there for a month. Jake’s breath caught in his throat. Never make a promise you can’t keep. 

Saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts

God, sometimes Shadi just felt so fucking stupid. She almost felt naive, shortsighted from not listening to her friends in Boston, or people back home who warned her about Jake.“You know his reputation. You know how hockey players are” Shadi couldn’t count the number of times people had told her that, and the number of times she hadn’t listened. “He doesn’t stick with any one girl.” “I know you like him, but he’s only going to break your heart.” But the thing was, he hadn’t. Jake had made it clear, straight from the start of their relationship, that they were exclusive, and he backed it up. She wore his jersey to games, went as his date to all the Bruins fundraisers, and took the week off to come with him when he was selected for the All-Star Game. Jake knew his reputation better than anyone, and that’s why he was so committed to making sure she knew that he wasn’t the kind of guy everyone kept trying to peg him as. And Shadi had never felt so much pride then when she was able to turn around, prove them wrong, and say: “You see? He’s never done anything to hurt me, and he’s not about to start now.” 

But she couldn’t, not anymore. She couldn’t, because they all had been right and he had broken his promises and her heart and now she was crying in a bar with her best friend on a Friday night and had no clue how to get a grip of her feelings. She pounded back another beer, barely even stopping to swallow before ordering a fourth round. Or was it a fifth? She didn’t know, and at that point, she really didn’t care. 

I get drunk, but it's not enough/’Cause the morning comes and you're not my baby

Sometime past one but before her next door neighbor’s chihuahua always started barking at two, Shadi stumbled into her apartment. She unstrapped her heels and placed them haphazardly by the door as she walked down to the bathroom, reaching around the cupboard for her toothpaste. Teeth were brushed and flossed, and she had shed nearly all of her clothes by the time she reached her bed. She grabbed the nearest sweatshirt to pull over her body as makeshift pajamas, only half paying attention. Shadi was too tired to look too closely; if she had, she would have noticed that it was a Bruins hoodie, the very first one Jake had ever given to her, a month and a half into their relationship. 

It seemed like Shadi had barely drifted off to sleep when she was woken up by the sound of frantic knocks on her door. Her first thought was something was wrong with Clara, who lived down the hall, that she wasn’t feeling well or needed to be talked out of texting her ex-girlfriend. It had happened before. But then she realized that Clara would have called first. Then her thought was a fire somewhere, but she didn’t smell smoke and her alarm hadn’t gone off. The knocking persisted. “Okay, okay, I’m coming. You’re going to wake up the whole building,” Shadi grumbled, throwing back the covers and padding out to the living room, pants be damned. 

She tried to wipe the sleep out of her eyes, the harsh light of the hallway fluorescents the first thing she noticed as the door swung open. The second thing was the person standing in front of it. It was Jake. His hand was frozen in the air, like he was about to knock for a fourth time if she hadn’t answered. “What are you doing here?” she whispered, her voice small. She didn’t trust it to speak any louder. 

Jake’s breath hitched as he noticed what she was wearing. His sweatshirt. He stuffed his hand into his jeans pocket, pulling out her pearl ring. The same one she had taken off the day he left, the same one he had given her when his thoughts of the future were filled with big houses and weddings and kids’ birthday parties. He held it out to her. “I had to see you.”