#a social-media-adjacent manner you know so that people who knew my name could see it

[ereborne]

WIP ask game: "backflip, faceplant", please! (also what's your ao3 handle? if you got one/don't mind/other)

Backflip, faceplant!  Of all of these working titles, this is the one I think might work best as an actual title.  It’s fun to say—imagine me tilting my head one way and then the other as I say it—and more importantly it doesn’t require a full six-degrees-of-kevin-bacon word association game to make sense to a viewer outside my head:  it’s what happens in the first scene of the fic.   

Essentially, this is my Dick Grayson character exploration, turned sort of emotional fix-it.  Dick gets kicked around so consistently in canon that he often doesn’t actually have the opportunity to live up to the Eldest Daughter characterization fandom loves to give him, and I am in the fashion of comics fans everywhere creating my own timeline mishmash to allow for a different outcome. 

What if before Jason died, Dick had managed to carve out a little space separate from his anger with Bruce, for the foundations of the brotherly relationship we all want them to have?  What if the first time he laid eyes on Tim, Dick turned a piece of his grief for Jason into determination to grow an even better brotherly relationship with him?  And what if Dick’s choice to grow those relationships had knock-on effects all the way down the line? 

Featuring such highlights as:  Tim and Babs conspiring to make sure Dick is never without backup in Bludhaven, professionally emotionally and otherwise; brain-scrambled Jason still pretty much autopilot adopting Damian in Nanda Parbat because when a kid falls over in front of you, you pick them the fuck up; ongoing ‘who can spill punch on the worst gala guest’ competitions between the Foxes and Waynes (surprise winner Kate Kane); the Titans and the Teen Titans and Timmy’s Weirdass Friends Too all working together better and more often; me rejecting p much everything New 52 except Strix, Strix can stay; a gargoyle with Dick Grayson’s perfect butt being commissioned for the Gotham Belltower as a loving and heartfelt tribute to everybody’s best big brother. 

I’m just writing whatever nonsense makes me happy with no regard to pacing, so it's gotten pretty sprawling—past sprawling, really, probably if I were going to post it up, I'd have the main story as one work and then a second work with multiple chapters of excerpted scenes—but it’s emotionally rewarding and an excellent thought exercise for me trying to decide what parts of DC’s bonkers-ass timeline(s) I think are important. 

Crime Alley natives only respond well to respect, and they never feel comfortable unless they’ve got the advantage.  Dick settles at the edge of the mat, dropping into an easy flat-footed squat, eye-level with the kid.  The kid immediately stands up from his crouch, and Dick doesn’t smirk, just tilts his head up to keep meeting his eyes.  “That was a good tumble.”  The kid’s looking for a lie, but he won’t find one.  He’d landed on his face in the end, sure, but he’d fallen well.  “You’ve got good balance, got reach—great instincts, which is more important.  Once you get the footwork down, you’ll be set.”  Dick, looking up into those suspicious eyes, realizes as he says it exactly how true it is.  It’ll be tricky, walking the line between Crime Alley and Bruce’s particular brand of do-goodery, but once the kid gets his feet underneath him, he’ll be amazing.  Well.  Nothing else for it, really.  There’s nobody better at finding a tricky balance point than Dick.  “Here, let me show you.”

[batboysandgirls]

Tim Drake x Reader - Explosions And Other Saturday Morning Activities - PART 2

PART ONE HERE, PART THREE HERE, and PART FOUR HERE! Title: Explosions And Other Saturday Morning Activities - PART 2 Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary: After discovering Tim Drake’s identity in an attack on Wayne Tower, you return to life as a Wayne Enterprises intern... but there’s a few problems.  Problems include (but are not limited to): going on a lunch date with Tim that is definitely not a lunch date, being the reason #timistaken is trending on Twitter, and getting kidnapped.  Typical Batfamily-adjacent issues, right? ... Right? Notes: Canon-typical descriptions of violence and injuries. Words: 4.4k

“I can’t believe you came in today!” Liza from social media management said.  “You’re so brave.”

You were trying not to roll your eyes.  If one more person called you “brave,” “strong,” or “tough” because you survived an Black Mask attack on your workspace Saturday and came into said workplace the following Wednesday… you were going to scream.

All the Wayne Enterprises interns on your floor had gathered around your desk, asking to hear about what happened.  You briefly retold the story for the mini-crowd of mostly college students who were definitely slacking off and using your injuries as an excuse to kill twenty minutes.  Maybe three were genuinely concerned.

You sat next to Nadiah from web design, and she had nervously been glancing at you all morning.  You usually ate lunch together and were certainly friends, so that made sense.  Ivan and Maria from public relations also were worried, though you wondered if it stemmed more from the fact you could still miss your deadline at end of the week, which would screw them up.  The work of a videography intern stops for no crime lord attacks, apparently.

(This morning, your boss, after hugging you and expressing how happy she was that you were alive, swore that you could take off whatever time you needed and to not worry about work.  You liked your boss a lot.)

The rest were just giving you pitying looks and nodding their heads to whatever you said.  You weren’t even sure of a few people’s names.  You weren’t paying that much attention and didn’t notice when a few girls at the back of the swarm around you started gasping (mostly likely because some guy from marketing was mansplaining how difficult this must be for you, which was distracting).

You did notice Nadiah go, “Oh my god,” as she looked behind you.

“I hope I’m not interrupting, Peter,” a familiar voice spoke.  “But ______, can I chat with you for a minute?”

You turned around to see Tim Drake-Wayne standing before you.  Last time you’d seen him, he was bloodied and in a burnt Red Robin costume.  Now, he was looking unfairly handsome in a suit with no tie.  Some girls were giggling at him, but he didn’t seem to mind.  You were way too happy to see him.  This was so wrong, wasn’t it?  To like your boss’s boss’s boss’s boss?  Who happens to be a superhero?  But you can’t help the smile that spreads across your face.

(So, so wrong.  But it feels right.)

“He was not saying anything particularly interesting,” you said, standing up.  “Sure.”

Tim smiled at that remark, eyes sliding to the slightly offended mansplainer, apparently named Peter, and titled his head towards the western door of the floor.

“I was thinking we should get lunch today.  Bruce and I really want to make it up to you for everything that happened Saturday,” he said as you walked.  You heard a few girls jealously gasp and whisper something about how lucky you were to have a “lunch date” with Tim Wayne.

Everything, huh?  Including discovering his secret identity and helping his fellow vigilantes escape from behind tied up?

You walked across the floor together, ignoring the jaw drops of not just interns but full staff members.

“Well, I know it was a long day for the both of us,” you said. “I’m glad we both seem to be healing and in good spirits.”

He smiled as he opened the door to the stairwell for you. “Exactly.”

This stairwell hadn’t been badly damaged to begin with, but, overall, repairs to Wayne Tower happened very quickly after Black Mask’s attack.  It was mostly windows that had been destroyed, along with the other central stairwell, not structural integrity stuff (thankfully).  And apparently, Wayne money could buy you not just quality reconstruction, but speedy reconstruction.

You could see some of the put-on charm vanish from Tim’s manner as you descended down the stairs, the two of you now alone.  He stopped at a landing between your floor and the next, looking you up and down.

“I just wanted to check on you.  Away from a slew of interns.  Is your side healing okay?”

Your fingers automatically reached for the gash bandaged below your blouse.  “It… it still hurts, and it’s going to leave a large scar.  But the nurse said it should be fully healed in about a month.”

Tim frowned.  “I’m sorry.  That’s awful.”

You tried to smile a bit, but it probably looked a little forced by the way Tim’s face turned even more apologetic.

“How are you doing?” you asked, before glancing around the stairwell.  This probably wasn’t secure enough to talk about Tim being Red Robin… you’d make do.  “I know that you had some injuries too, right?”

Tim nodded slowly, and you could see in his eyes that he wasn’t just affirming his injuries.  He was approving your careful questioning about the events of the attack.

“Yeah, but nothing too serious.  I’ve had a few bad accidents that were worse, so, with some rest, I was alright.”

Thing was, he didn’t look alright.  The way he was standing, his body looked tense and heavy.  His gaze even felt tired; there were dark bags below his stunning blue eyes.  You wished that Batman would force his kids to take time off.  More than three days.

You didn’t say anything in response though, because it probably wasn’t your place.  Tim smiled at you.  You found you couldn’t smile back; instead, you just tried to push down the knot of worry in your stomach, worry for this boy you hardly knew anyway.

“Meet me in the café across the street at noon, okay?  It’ll be my treat.  I should get back, see you soon.”

You gave a little wave as you each headed your respective ways, then you stopped and headed back towards him.

“Tim.”

“Hm?  Wh—”

Just as Tim turned back towards you, you enveloped him in a hug.  He was frozen for a second, but then he hugged you back.

“Sorry.  It just seemed like you needed that,” you said into his shoulder.  Tim didn’t say anything, but he hugged back a little tighter.  You didn’t know how long you stood there holding Tim, but a warm feeling didn’t leave your chest long after you had returned to your desk.

✹ ✹

Tim told you to order whatever you wanted, and you had to remind yourself as you looked at the menu that he was not one of your college friends.  He quite literally could afford everything and anything.  Usually, you’d try to choose something on the cheap end if someone offered to buy you food, but Tim Drake was not a broke student.

The café was simple, but nice.  It looked like this was a popular spot for lunch in Old Gotham.  You got a chocolate croissant and avocado toast with salmon—

(You could practically hear what your parents would say if they saw you eating avocado toast, but you ignored your mind’s versions of them.  They couldn’t mock you here.)

—with lemonade.  Tim had a chocolate muffin, BLT, and several cups of coffee.  Well, that probably explained how he was awake and alert, even though he looked exhausted.

You two mostly chatted about nothing important.  You talked about what interning was like, weird stories from around the office.  Tim talked about what it was like being a teenager basically running a multi-billion dollar corporation, funny anecdotes about adults being confused by him.  It was… weirdly nice.  He wasn’t a distant boss a dozen floors below you, he wasn’t a mysterious vigilante you’d only ever seen in darkness until a few days ago.  No, he was a teenage boy who was laughing at your joke about your boss not understanding the sad cat meme on your phone lockscreen despite her being the reason you changed your lockscreen to a sad cat meme.

His laugh made your stomach do embarrassing flips, and his smile filled you with a warm feeling.  This was very, very wrong.  He was still your boss, vaguely.  But you were eating pastries together and laughing, and you found you didn’t care.

As the laughter died down, your eyes met, and something passed between you in the way they did that set your heart racing.  The way Tim’s eyes widened a little at you made you wonder if he felt whatever that was too.  Tim cleared his throat, looking away.

“Bruce wants you to come to dinner Friday,” he said slowly.  His eyes returned to you, and you realized from the weight of his gaze that this was probably the main reason he got lunch with you.  To ask you this.  You should have known you weren’t just going to sit with the knowledge of the whole… (What were the bat heroes called altogether? Batclan?  Batfamily?  That sounded right.) ...the whole batfamily’s secret identities.

“Okay.  Because of—” you started.

(You weren’t even going to finish this sentence, because you couldn’t finish it aloud in a random café—)

“—yeah…yeah,” Tim cut you off.  While you had been talking about funny little life things, the tension and heaviness that had bogged Tim down in the stairway seemed to lift a bit.  But it had returned as soon as he spoke about this dinner with Bruce.

“...are you sure you’re okay after everything?” you asked, “Because it was a lot.  Even for you.”

“I—I’m really fine,” Tim replied, with all the certainty of someone who was definitely not fine.  “...I’m fine.”

You weren’t going to get up and hug him again, but you reached across the table and took Tim’s hand.  You gave it a squeeze and smiled a little at him.

“It’s okay to not be fine.  It was… too much.”

(You were looking at Tim’s face, and you could see a boy being electrocuted on the ground in front of you, just screaming, and you could see a boy under your arm as you descended the stairwell, his blood dripping onto you, and you could see a boy leaning against a wall, eyes closed.  You could see he was a boy.  Before he was a hero, he was a boy.)

“But we made it out.  We’re going to be alright, eventually.  But it’s okay to be not okay, in the right now.”

Tim stared at you, then nodded, squeezing your hand.

“You’re right.  I’m—” Tim paused, inhaling a shaky breath, “I’m not totally fine.  It’s what I’m used to, to just push past things, but it’s never—.  It was bad, really bad.  And I’m not fine because of it.  But I think I will be eventually.  We both will be.”

You exchanged a smile with Tim, then drew your hand back.

“Dinner sounds good.  Is it at…. your house?”

“Wayne Manor,” Tim said with a grin.  “My house, mansion, estate, whichever word you prefer.”

“...there’s not a metro stop near there, is there?” you said cheekily.

“No, but you can ride back with me after work.”

“Fancy.”

“We like to impress,” Tim said.

“I can’t wait.”

✹ ✹

You woke up next morning, shutting off your phone alarm absently as you hopped out of bed.  You brushed your teeth, thinking back to the end of your lunch date.  You’d walked back to Wayne Tower together, and you swapped phone numbers before you each returned to work.  Honestly, it wasn’t even really a date.  It was a “sorry you got injured in an attack on our building and thanks for saving my life also Batman wants to talk to you” lunch.  But you could indulge yourself in the comfort of your own bathroom.  Lunch date was easier to say, anyway.

When you finally grabbed your phone after getting dressed, you almost dropped it when you saw the sheer number of notifications you had.  What the fuck had happened?

TWITTER                6:32 AM Amy Lin, Sarah Twine, elle loves draco malfoy, and 2,643 others have followed you

TWITTER                6:29 AM You have 10K new likes, and 4K new retweets.

MESSAGES                2:32 AM EMILYYYY: YOU ARE PROBABLY ASLEEP BUT YOU NEED TO TELL ME ASAP IF THIS IS LEGIT

MESSAGES                2:32 AM EMILYYYY: OH MY GOD HAVE YOU SEEN THIS???  IS THIS REAL???

MESSAGES                2:31 AM EMILYYYY: bzfd.it/TimWayneGF-summer

You’ve got about twenty more texts from other friends all talking about a Buzzfeed article, a video, and Tim Wayne.

It’s too early for this.

You take your phone with you and open the link from Emily, your college roommate, as you make cereal.

10 Reasons We ALREADY Love Tim Wayne’s New Girlfriend

Oh no.

Tim Wayne, adopted son of Bruce Wayne and Gotham royalty, has a new girlfriend: _____ ______.  While most young women in Gotham are disappointed that one of the city’s most eligible young men is taken (just take a look at #timistaken on Twitter), we can’t help but love the incredibly interesting and talented _____.

1. She’s an intern at Wayne Enterprises.

amelia needs a nap @amelim67 ok I know everyone is upset that #timistaken but hold onto your butts for 1 second bc he’s going out with a wayne enterprises intern… which means… this is the wattpad story we all dreamed of living 12:34 AM  •  7/4/__ 10.2K Retweets    25.7K Likes

Amelia is right—this is basically straight out of a Wattpad story and we’re loving it.  _____ is a (paid!!) videography intern at WE, which impressive because 1) WE internships are incredibly competitive and 2) _____ JUST FINISHED HER FRESHMAN YEAR.  SHE ALREADY HAS ONE OF THE MOST COMPETITIVE INTERNSHIPS IN THE COUNTRY.  BAD.  ASS.

2. She’s incredibly smart.

That’s right, one of the reasons _____ got a WE internship is because she’s a genius.  No, really.  Now heading into her Sophomore year at Gotham U, _____ is a Wayne Merit Scholar, one of 15 students per class who has a full ride to Gotham U based on merit alone.

The Wayne Foundation already has an extensive financial aid program for college-bound Gotham students, but they only have one (yes, 1) purely merit-based program, the Wayne Merit Scholarship.  With only 15 scholars per year, the program is incredibly competitive, but _____ clearly is a standout student.  She was valedictorian at East Gotham High School, and she made the dean’s list this year at Gotham U.

Tim Wayne is known for being a genius himself, and we don’t blame him for being drawn to someone as bright as he is.  Smart is sexy.

3. Her Twitter is HILARIOUS.

_______ @_______ friend from Nevada: omg I heard a metro stop exploded are you ok?? me: yeah lol it was only two face friend from Nevada: ONLY TWO FACE?? me: girl I live in a city with the joker yes ONLY two face 2:34 PM  •  7/3/__ 2 Retweets    14 Likes

You couldn’t take reading any more of your own tweets.  You exited the article and immediately private your Twitter.  Some damage control. The tweets were not hilarious if 432,756 people have really read them, like the top of the article said.

You ate your cereal, trying to calm down process why Buzzfeed and the internet decided you were dating Tim.  After you finished, you opened the article again.  The rest of the reasons Buzzfeed loves you were varying levels of uncomfortable.  6 was the worst.

6. She’s super independent.

From her Twitter, we learned that _____ doesn’t have a great relationship with her parents.

_______ @_______ People talking about their relationships with their parents…  HA wonder what that’s like 11:29 PM  •  10/5/__ 3 Likes       __________ @_______        Replying to @_______ Not that I’m unhappy living completely on my own without support from my folks but uhhhh sometimes I forget how not normal that is 11:31 PM  •  10/5/__ 2 Likes

But with _____’s brains (see #2) and paid internship (see #1), she’s clearly made a way for herself without the help of her parents.

But 10 was probably what started this madness in the first place.

10. Finally, the now viral video of her comforting words to Tim Wayne on a lunch date.

Transcript below:

T: Bruce wants you to come to dinner Friday. _: Okay.  Because of— T: —yeah.  Yeah.

[slight pause]

_: Are you sure you’re okay after everything?  Because it was a lot.  Even for you. T: I—I’m really fine.  I’m fine.

[____ reaches her hand across the table and takes Tim’s hand.]

_: It’s okay to not be fine.  It was too much, but we made it out.  We’re going to be alright eventually.  But it’s okay to be not okay in the right now. T: You’re right.  I’m— [Tim takes a breath] I’m not totally fine.  It’s what I’m used to, to just push past things, but it’s never—.  It was bad, really bad.  And I’m not fine because of it.  But I think I will be eventually.  We both will be.

[The pair share a smile.]

The two teens were both injured in the recent attack on Wayne Tower in Gotham by local crime lord Black Mask.  The moment seems to stem from their shared experience.   Not to mention a dinner invite!  Could Tim Wayne be introducing  _____ to his father Bruce Wayne and family for the first time?

Okay.  Okay.  So, the video was clearly just someone in the café recording you two talking, in what appears to be a quite intimate moment.  And everyone jumped on it—#timistaken apparently.

(You felt a strange hurt watching yourself console Tim.  That was meant to be just for Tim, not for the entire internet to see.)

And now everyone and their mother thought you were dating one of Gotham’s most eligible teens.

Great.

You called Tim.

“Tim, have yo—”

“Yeah, ____, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.  Some random person took the video of us at the café.  I just… You’re probably used to this level of attention.  I’m really not.”

“I know.  As soon as I saw, I called the WE publicity team.  They’re trying to get that Buzzfeed article down.”

“The stuff with my parents, just—.  I mean, I shouldn’t have vented about it so openly on my Twitter, but I feel like there’s journalism ethics stuff to not randomly report that stuff about someone who’s not a public figure.”

“I know.  I’m hoping in a couple hours that they’ll remove that part at least, if not the whole article.  We’ve got a pretty good P.R. team, as you might imagine.”

(The number of playboy bizarre yacht and jet ski accidents Bruce Wayne had got into over the years started to make some more sense as soon as you learned he was also a vigilante.)

“Okay.  That’s good.”

“Let me know if you have any trouble with anything.  Literally anything.  We’ve got security people, P.R. people, people people—whoever is best suited to help if you have an issue.”

You frowned.  “Do you really think I’ll need a security person?”

You heard Tim pause on the other end of the line.  “...probably not.”

“Probably?”

“You never know.  I’m kind of... popular.”  Tim’s voice said “popular” like it was a disease.

“I hadn’t noticed,” you said, feeling a small smile form on your face despite how overall awful this situation had been.

“Oh?  Better pay closer attention.”

(Were you flirting?  Was Tim flirting back?  Was this allowed?  You literally just had a conversation to establish how you were going to take down press about you two dating.  Ugh.)

“I’m sure I will,” you said, before pausing.  “Thank you, Tim.  I’ll call you if anything else comes up.”

“Of course.  Let me know.  Talk to you later.”

✹ ✹

By the time you got to lunch at work, you were about ready to hurl yourself through your computer screen.  Your email was filled with requests from reporters to comment on your “relationship” with Tim Wayne, which you quickly deleted.  Other interns from around the floor kept wandering by asking if you were really dating Tim.

(“No.” “But I th—” “No, we’re not a thing.  I have work to do.”)

Even your boss stopped by to ask how you were doing, and you had to resist the urge to scream.  You needed everybody to leave you alone and stop asking.

Thankfully, when you ate lunch with the usual group of interns you considered your friends, no one brought it up after you said, “I am not dating Tim Drake,” as you sat down.  Nadiah from web design complained about her superiors' inability to reply to emails in a timely manner, George from engagement told a funny story from his weekend involving a puppy loose in the intern housing, and you were able to completely set aside all the uneasiness that came with Buzzfeed and being the reason for a Twitter hashtag.  It was nice to laugh and joke about your bosses and worry about the things you were supposed to be worried about.

George stopped you as you were walking back to the office from the cafeteria.

“Hey, I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I just wanted to make sure you’re not too stressed about everything.”

You smiled.  George was one of your favorite interns.  He was just genuinely sweet and also really good at his job.

“I’m pretty stressed, but I think it’s going to be okay.  Tim told me that he’s got Wayne P.R. people trying to get the weird personal information Buzzfeed found about me off the Internet.”  You shrugged.  “Whatever happens, happens.  I’ll be okay.”

George nodded.  “Just let me know if I can help.  My job is basically social media management, so… I know stuff.”

“That you do,” you said with a smile.  “Thanks.  I’ll tell you if I could use your expertise.”

“On the subject of expertise, can I ask you a favor?”

You raised an eyebrow.  “Uh, sure?  I don’t think I’ve got expertise in much.”

“Do you know how to install a graphics card in a computer?”

That you did actually have mild expertise in.  You had become known as “computer girl” around the office earlier in the summer for installing a new power supply in your boss’s computer when her old one broke.  I.T. was too slow for her liking.  Graphics cards were pretty easy comparatively.

(It occurred to you how many epithets you’d acquired around the office.  First, “computer girl.”  Then, “explosion girl.”  Now, “Tim Wayne’s girlfriend girl.”  Oh, wait.  Girlfriend already contains girl.  Ugh, whatever.  Can’t you just be a nameless intern?  Is that too much to ask?)

George explained that he needed help installing a graphics card he just ordered, having never opened up his computer before he was afraid he’d damage it.  You agreed to come over that evening and give him a hand.  He lived a couple floors below you in the intern housing.  You’d been over to his place a few nights with a bunch of interns to watch movies and hang out.  It might be a nice distraction from everything to just… do some work on a friend’s computer.  Not worry about anything else.

Work was uneventful the rest of the day except for a series of amusing texts from Tim just before you headed out.

Tim Drake-Wayne It only took FOREVER but the buzzfeed top 10 reasons article is now a top 5

Tim Drake-Wayne They took out half the stuff, mostly the more sensitive information

Tim Drake-Wayne And they also added at the bottom that my press team reached out and denied any relationship

Tim Drake-Wayne So of course they put that “the evidence suggests otherwise but

Tim Drake-Wayne Not to sound like a whiny celebrity but I hate the paparazzi???

Tim Drake-Wayne ANYWAY please let me know if anyone else bothers you or if I can do anything to help

Tim Drake-Wayne I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow

Tim Drake-Wayne I mean, everybody is

Tim Drake-Wayne Looking forward to it

Tim Drake-Wayne Everyone wants to meet you, esp Dick and Damian

Tim Drake-Wayne And Bruce

Tim Drake-Wayne This is an obnoxious number of texts I’m sorry I’ll stop

You Your texts are very enjoyable, don’t be sorry

You I started laughing to myself and the intern Nadiah who sits next to me was giving me weird looks

You Thanks for all your help with the article I am so grateful

You I’m looking forward to dinner too, but I am slightly terrified

You I think for rather obvious reasons

You But I’ll text you tomorrow once I’m done and I’ll come downstairs to meet you??  Then we can drive to your house

You Your house which happens to be Wayne Manor which is so crazy oh my god??

You But seriously, I’m glad you invited me

You Thank you again, for everything

You tried not to smile too hard at your phone as you walked back to the intern housing.  You made some ramen for dinner quickly, then headed down to George’s apartment, telling yourself “Don’t think about Tim” over and over.

(It didn’t work.  You thought about Tim.)

Working on George’s computer did provide a distraction.  It was a rather tight fit adding the graphics card in his computer tower, so you took your time.

George was chatting pretty mindlessly to you as you worked, mostly about the latest Twitter beef the Wayne Enterprises account got into with Arby’s.

“It was kind of accidental.  I was just trying to be funny and then it got a little out of control.”

“This is why I’m not an engagement intern,” you said as you clicked in the graphics card.  “I think I’d accidentally start Twitter beef with everybody.  Video is less interpersonal, mostly.”

George began to talk about how you’d probably be fine at engagement, or something, but you tuned him out because there was a weird device attached to his power supply.  It looked like a like container.  You’d never seen anything like that in a computer before.  It was also taking up a lot of space right near where you had to plug in the card to the motherboard.

“Hey, George,” you started, looking closer at the little canister inside his computer.  “What’s this bit us—”

You didn’t finish.  Suddenly, one of George’s hands pressed against your mouth and the other pinned your arms to your chest, and the canister started letting something out into the air.

You struggled against George’s grasp, but he was basically sitting on top of you, and he was much larger than you were.  You tried to hold your breath as long as you could, but eventually you inhaled whatever was now in the air.  You immediately felt sleepy.

As everything started to fade away, you heard George whisper.

“I am sorry about this, _____, but the boss can’t be mocked.”

You closed your eyes and thought of what a shame it would be to miss dinner tomorrow as everything went black.

(UPDATE: PART THREE HERE!!  AND PART FOUR HERE!!!) / (Hey!  I wrote a part 2!  I am also going to write a part three, obviously.  I won’t leave you hanging with this ending. Hope you enjoyed and let me know what you think!  Also, let me know if you’d liked to be tagged in the next installment. c:)

[zankivich]

Neighbors: Shawn x Plus Size Reader Chapter 13

a/n: Hi there. This is going to be good. I promise. Take some deep breaths. Relax a little. Let yourself fall into it. There’s a lot of build up here but it will all make sense in a little while. I promise. If you hate it that’s cool, you can come yell at me. I’ll understand. But I love you? If you like it enough to want to buy me a ko-fi I’d love you forever! 

Trigger Warnings: details of sex, anxiety attack

*y/n’s point of view*

Going home is good for a while. You start a huge campaign with Roger’s Stadium to do their new branding. It’s kind of Shawn adjacent, but distant enough that no one brings it up that your boyfriend just happened to sell out a show there. You got to pick someone to help do the low-level research and you quickly paired up with Stu. It meant late nights in the office with your best friend doing what you did best. Marketing was your thing. Understanding different demographics of people and what got through to them best was something that you’d never had to be taught in the classroom. It came naturally. So communicating your product, connecting with people was just fun for you. It just so happened to come with a lovely commission on the side.

You meet with Gina, to confirm and solidify your pitch, but also apparently for a wellness check. After a lifetime of male bosses, you’d never once had one of those, but the second you sat down in her office she quickly flipped the lid on your ipad and made you talk about yourself instead.

“How are you?” She asked.

Your eyes widened slightly. “I...I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m okay,” She chuckled. “You’re used to jumping right into things, aye? Is that it?”

“I guess. Most bosses usually just want me to do the job and move on.”

“Ah. Then this should be a lovely change of pace for you. I have no interest in what you do professionally if you’re not doing okay holistically. The two are deeply intertwined. I’m not saying we’re going to be best friends. In fact we probably shouldn’t but, if at no other point in your day is someone asking you how you’ve been, let that be what your time with me looks like, okay?”

“Okay.” You murmured letting your shoulders relax slightly. “Okay.”

“So I ask you again, how are you doing y/n?”

“Things are good, actually. Stu and I work so well together that sometimes I can’t tell when our friendship stops and when the work begins. We just understand each other’s minds in a really productive way, so it’s really nice to be able to work together.”

She gave you that smile again that said you were doing something wrong causing you to pause again.

“What?”

“I guess I’m just curious how often when someone asks you how you’re doing you immediately start talking about work.”

You signed, hands twisted up in your lap as you struggled to maintain eye contact with her.

“Yea well...There’s not really much going on for me outside of work right now so?”

“Really? What about that famous boyfriend of yours everyone’s always yapping about?”

You snorted. “Famous boyfriend is getting ready for his very famous tour in England at the moment.”

“England, aye? That’s where you flew out to a few weeks ago right?”

“Yea. We uh had a fight that was bit my fault, so I went to apologize and smooth things over. He’ll be heading for Amsterdam come March though.”

She nodded. “That’s a lot for you to handle, I’m guessing. You must fly a lot to go see him? That’s hard considering your job here.”

You peered down at your lap again.

“This is actually the first time we’re doing the whole long term long distance thing. I’m sure we’ll be fine. It’s all a learning curve though. I uh I was planning on going to Amsterdam for the first two shows but that will probably be the last time I leave for at least a few months. I won’t see him for most of the year.”

“Well, shit. That just sucks.”

You smiled. “Yea, little bit. But he says he’ll fly back as often as he can. And with social media and technology now a days I can still talk to him for like hours. We’ll be okay. The hardest part is just keeping myself busy, and thankfully I’m pretty good at that.”

“What about family and friends?”

“Family is...complicated. Friends is Stu and his boyfriend Brian. Most of the people in the office are much older than me though, and we just don’t really care about the same things. I’m good though, I’ve always been the kind of person to go out and do whatever makes me happy. I don’t need a bunch of people around for that.”

She laughed again. “Well isn’t that nice to know. I suppose you can show me your pitch now.”

She loves it. And it’s incredibly validating, and takes a lot of stress of your shoulders. Now all that was left to do was to present the real thing and hope that they liked your design. It seemed like a cause for celebration. So you and Stu made plans to get all gussied up, go out to a fancy dinner, and get wine drunk together before eight pm. You tried to give Shawn a call, he knew how stressed you’d been about it after all, but it went to voicemail. So, you tucked your phone in your purse and went out to have a good fucking time.

“To being in our mid-twenties and finally hitting the fucking glow up! We are in our prime motherfucker!” Stu grinned cheersing his glass against yours.

You snorted. “We sure fucking are. When Ari said it feels so good to be so young and so successful, bitch was not lying.”

“Ugh. I wanna die and come back as that song. I thought that the thing I hated you most for was getting to see Shawn Mendes’ dick in person, but I think it’s that you have the ability to meet my fairy godmother, Ariana Grande, and there’s just nothing I can do about it.”

You peered over at your best friend over the rim of your glass with raised eyebrows.

“Stu...Are you sexually attracted to my boyfriend?”

His eyes widened slightly and his lips parted like a goldfish flopping on a dry surface begging for water. The idiot.

“To be fair...The entire office wants to fuck your boyfriend. Not just me!”

“Wow...That does not make me feel any better you sleez!” You chortled. “You’re my best friend!”

“It’s not like I would pursue it! Besides, Shawn Mendes was on our hall pass list far before you two were playing footsie behind my back.”

“I beg your pardon? And stop calling him by his full name, it gives me the creeps.”

He rolled his eyes at you. “The minute that man figured out how to put on a suit, Brian told me straight up if he ever found out Shawn went the other way, he would leave my ass in a heartbeat.”

“Jesus. So the whole world wants to screw my boyfriend?”

“Little bit, babes. But, you’re the only one who gets to! Don’t worry about the rest of us horny idiots.” He smiled.

“Have I ever told you how good you are at consoling me?”

“No.”

“Good.” You smirked. “You suck at it.”

He swatted at you playfully allowing both of you some time to look over your menus. At least that’s what you thought you were doing. It only took a few minutes of not so subtle stares for you to get the hint. The more you got used to being with Shawn the more you picked up on stuff like that.

“What is it now, Stu?” You sighed plopping your menu down.

“Well...Don’t take this the wrong way, because I completely don’t mean it in a predatory, creepy one at all but...What’s the dick like?”

“Oh god.”

He sighed. “We used to talk about all our hookups! I just want to know that my bestie is getting the dicking down that she deserves. It just so happens that this is internationally famous dick.”

Your best friend was a complete and total dumbass. But, you loved him. And you loved Shawn. And quite honestly not getting to share your experiences with someone was tough. It was hard because you knew Stu might not be able to relate to some of the things you were now experiencing as a result of your relationship, but he was also the person you went to for just about everything and vice versa. Also...sometimes a girl needs to gloat.

You peer around the restaurant as if a pap or one of Shawn’s fans might be lurking around every corner. (Sometimes, it felt like they were.) Stu leaned in in his nosey ass manner

“So like...it’s the best dick I’ve ever had in my life.” You whispered.

“Shut the fuck up.”

You whined dramatically. “I wish I was kidding. The whole hour and a half shows every night of the week translates so well into the bedroom. His stamina is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. His breath control allows him to go down on me for insane amounts of time. I’m talking like the bastard has evolved gills or some shit!”

Stu cracked up laughing and clanked his glass happily against yours.

“To evolving gills, bitch!”

You snorted happily and cheers’d with him again.

“Wait Stu, something happened.” You murmured moving closer in your seat to lean across the table.

“What? What?”

“So I went to the UK obviously to make up for things and I found this plus-size lingerie store while I was there so I thought it might get his mind off things if we like had some fun or whatever.”

“Okay….AND?”

“And so we’re doing...you know, it. And out of nowhere this dominant side of him comes out that honest to god made me wetter than the ocean seas.”

He raised an eyebrow at you. “What the hell does that mean? What did he do?”

You bit your lip taking another gander around the restaurant only for him to swat at you about getting shy just as you were getting to the good part.

“I was somewhat bent over, I guess you could say.”

“Great so you were doing doggy style, get to the kinky shit, sis.”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know… It just like started to feel really good and I had a feeling that I was going to…”

“Cum?”

You shook your head softly.

He gasped. “Squirt?”

You nodded.

“Oh. My. God. He’s really dicking you to explosion.”

“Yes. That is accurate. Anyway, I’ve never done that while he was in me before so I guess I started pushing against his hips because it felt so good? And he pulled my arms behind my back randomly and literally fucked me through it. Even when I was screaming louder than I’ve ever screamed before. He said, and I quote: ‘Baby, just let me give it to you. Let me make you feel good like only I can.’ and I just...holy shit Stu it was the best orgasm of my life.”

“You memorized a quote during sex? That is the biggest dick energy I’ve ever heard in my life. I have to go home and now slap my boyfriend because you’ve told me that story. I hope you’re satisfied, ruining other people's relationships. Holy shit, y/n.”

You licked at your lips and smile up at the sky as if God had something to do with it and not your wonderfully aggressive boyfriend.

“Yea. I know.” you sighed dreamily. “I love him.”

Meanwhile…

*Shawn’s point of view*

“What’s your problem? Y/n not texting you back?” Brian asked as Shawn tossed his phone back onto the couch.

He rolled his eyes. “No. But I am a perfectly grown adult who doesn’t need his girlfriend’s constant validation to feel secure in our relationship, Brian!”

“That what the self-help books telling you, bud?”

Brian was walking past after having turned the tv on and he very purposely tripped him. Jackass.

“Is you not getting to blow your load at least three times a day gonna make you an asshole this whole entire tour?”

He reached for a pillow and quickly socked his best friend in the face.

“Why are you such a dickhead, dickhead?!” He snorted. “There’s nothing I can do about having an incredible sex life. That is not my fault!”

“Incredible sex life, my ass!”

He put his hand over his heart and gave him the most sincere face he could offer.

“Bri...it’s a great fuckin’ sex life. Best of my whole life.”

“What does she shoot beams of light out her pussy or something?”

“This is why women hate our whole gender by the way. No, jackass, but she might as well. She is soft and passionate and beautiful and...vocal. Everytime I think I’m in control she does something to put me in my place. It’s wild. She’s fuckin wild.” He sighed collapsing back against the couch. “God, she’s perfect, man.”

Sure, he missed her. He always missed her. But, he also just appreciated everything about her. And talking about their love life wasn’t out of disrespect at all. It was more like bragging out of love for everything that they were together. And also because when it came to sex...they were kind of incredibly good at it.

“You two fuck like bunny rabbits. I’d almost be impressed if it wasn’t a complete inconvenience ninety nine percent of the time.”

Shawn rolled his eyes. “How is our love making an inconvenience to you, oh poor wonderful Brian?!”

“Oh don’t even get me started! Exhibit A, you invite all of us over to your apartment for a party in December. We’re supposed to get incredibly hammered and play mario kart. Not even forty-five minutes into the damn thing, you two assholes disappear into the bedroom, WITH the game system I might add, with the door locked for over an hour. The only reason you even came back out was because y/n wanted more tequila!”

“Hmm...that was a beautiful night. She sounds like a symphony when she cums.” He sighed to himself.

“Gross. Exhibit B! We go to the after party for the billboard awards. It’s supposed to be a good fuckin’ time for everyone--”

“Hey! We had a good fuckin’ time that night! We shared a blunt with Post Malone, Alessia, and fucking Ariana Grande. What could you possibly have to complain about?!”

“Why yes Shawn, that we did. But do you remember what happened after that?” He paused for the briefest of moments before very quickly continuing on. “Y/n for some reason found you smoking to be the hottest thing in the world and decided that she had to have you right then and there. You two left the fucking party and Alessia and I had to uber back to the hotel.”

“Well that is...yea I don’t really have an excuse for that one. Not our best moment. But trust me you didn’t want to be in that car anyway, I ripped her dress that night. It was a bit of a shit show. The only reason the paps didn’t get us was because we penguin waddled inside to hide it.”

“The moral of the story is, as happy as I am that you guys are trying to set an olympic record for fucking, you both suck!”

“You’ve got me there. We both suck...incredibly well I might add.”

He hit him with a pillow and left the room. What are best friends for anyway?

*y/n’s point of view*

“How are things going with Bry?” You asked as Stu worked to pack their bowl.

What better way to celebrate their wonderful friendship date, then ending it with a little weed?

He lit the bowl and took a deep hit, letting it sit in his lungs as he handed it over.

Stu groaned. “They’d be fine if he would get his shit together and propose to me already.”

You took a hit of your own and laughed.

“If you want to marry him so much, why don’t you propose?”

“I’m the one who asked him out in the first place! I’m the one who single handedly kept our relationship going through college. I told him point blank that he needed to propose and for some reason, five years later I’m still missing a ring on my finger!”

“Do you want me to talk to him? Give him the hint?”

He rolled his eyes. “As wonderful as that sounds, no. I want him to want to be with me. I just want him to take a little initiative ya know?”

You each took another hit of the bowl and leaned against each other and the high took over.

“I get it. You want to feel confident in your future. You wanna know he’s gonna be there when you need him. That’s a valid feeling.” You assured him.

“We’ve just been together for so long. And most of the time we are so good together. We communicate well, we have fun together. I just want to know that we’re both feeling the same things. Sometimes he seems so sure that he just thinks we don’t need to talk about it at all.”

“Damn. I think Shawn and I might be the opposite. I think all he wants is for me to talk more.”

Stu chuckled. “No shit. It took me getting you high in my college dorm for you to even tell me anything even remotely personal about yourself. Shawn’s sappy ass probably thinks it’s like talking to a wall.”

“Very funny asshole. I can’t help it okay? I’m the baby of four kids. By the time I was growing up, no one had time to listen to me whine and complain about shit. Shawn just...he understands all of his emotions so well, and he spends so much of his life reflecting on everything no matter how busy he is. I’m trying though. I know it’s necessary, It’s just hard.”

“Do you think you two will be okay with all the touring?” He asked.

Wasn’t that just the million dollar question? You didn’t know how to explain that when you were together it seemed like you could take on the world, like you could do anything together, but that when you were apart you’d never felt weaker. It all feel so sappy and so high school. Not being able to live on your own and per your own person? You wanted to be better than that. And admitting anything else out loud, even to Stu, shook the very foundation of the persona you were trying to force yourself to be.

“Shawn thinks we will be.” You mumbled.

“I didn’t ask what Shawn thinks. I’m your best friend, you can tell me of all people.”

“It’s just harder when we’re apart. So, I fly into whatever country he’s in and we fuck and we go out to dinner and maybe we get high because that’s all there is when you’re together for two or three days. And it’s not until I come back home that I even realize it. Cause when we’re together, I can’t imagine being anywhere else. I could honestly sit in one of those green rooms and just watch him all day, and I’d be happy. I love him that much. But when I get some distance, when I’m back home I realize just how little there is. How little there will be for the rest of the year. I just...I guess I’m hoping I can hold on. Because when I’m with him? It’s the greatest pleasure I’ve ever known.”

“Holy shit babes...That’s deep. C’mere.”

He wrapped his arm loosely around you. You passed the bowl back and forth a few more times until the world grew fuzzy and calm and you were each happier for it. It was a good way to end the night.

***

It’s four in the afternoon. You have a meeting in fifteen minutes to go over revenue for the department. These meetings always made you super anxious. You were the only female senior executive, so any conversation you had about revenue was always in a room full of men. It didn’t help that a lot of the assholes in the office didn’t like the way you were offered the job and definitely held a grudge. You were always dead set on having the best numbers, so no one could say shit. Your stomach was tied up in knots and you just wanted to get it over with, so you could go home and drink a glass--or three--of wine. You’d been stressed about it all week, and it only made it worse that you had started sleeping in Shawn’s apartment because the smell of his sheets was sometimes the only thing that could lull you into sleep only for the smell to eventually fade away. There was tension in your neck and in your shoulders from the tossing and turning, and you just needed the week to be over.

Your phone started to vibrate on your desk and you almost chucked it at the wall. When you saw that it was Shawn wanting to facetime you honestly weren’t sure if that made it better or worse. But, Shawn tended to get anxious when you didn’t answer, so you took a deep breath and opened the phone.

“Babe!” He smiled immediately as his image came slowly into focus.

He must’ve been walking somewhere with the team cause he wasn’t looking at his phone right away. You didn’t really have time for this.

“Hey Shawn. Look, what is it? I’m uh I’m kinda busy.”

“Wait just one sec.” He scrambled a little with the phone before he was finally staring at you, wild curls and beautiful brown eyes to boot. “What’s wrong? You sound stressed.”

“I am stressed. I have a meeting in ten, Shawn; what can I do for you?”

He frowned. “I don’t need you to do anything for me. I just wanted to see you. Hey Jake, I’m gonna go sit for a minute alone alright? I’ll be back.”

“No, Shawn don’t--” But he was already walking away from the group.

“What’s going on, right now? Talk to me.”

Your initial instinct was to tell him nothing was going on, that you didn’t want to talk, you just wanted to muscle through. But you couldn’t help but remember your conversation with Stu a few days ago. It felt hypocritical to say you were trying to communicate if every time your boyfriend asked you to communicate you shut down.

You closed your eyes and pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger.

“I have a meeting, okay? That’s all” You mumbled feeling like an incessant toddler.

He nodded. “Okay, you have a meeting. You’ve told me that. You’ve got a meeting that’s stressing you out. You look flustered. What else is going on?”

“Nothing else is going on. I’m just really stressed at the moment.”

He sighed. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to fight me on this. I only want to help you. You’re breathing is uneven. Are you feeling anxious right now?”

“I--I don’t know. Yea, sure, I feel anxious.”

“How long have you felt anxious, honey?”

“Shawn, what the hell does this have to do with anything?!” you snapped the irritation getting to you.

“I think you might be having an anxiety attack. Try and take a deep breath with me. I know you’re feeling upset, but let’s just breathe for a little bit.”

“An anxiety attack? Shawn what--”

“Hush. Just fucking listen to me okay?”

You stumbled into silence and watched as your boyfriend did his best to calm you down. He had you lean the phone against your desk so that you could place one hand over your stomach and the other over your heart. He had you use your stomach as a guide to let your lungs fill with air, breathing slowly and letting the tension in your back and neck to ease out. His voice was low, calm, and incredibly soothing in your ear. You may have offered him comfort before, but this was something new entirely. At least Shawn could tell when he needed help. You were so delusional about your own wellbeing that you hadn’t even been aware you needed it. It wasn’t until you felt your heart rate calm and your shoulders drop that you felt infinitely better. With this relief came a rather odd rush of sadness that left you crying in the middle of your office in broad daylight.

“Hey,” He cooed face moving closer to his screen. “Why are you crying, y/n?”

“I don’t even fucking know.” You sighed trying to catch the tears before they fall. “I really thought I was fine, Shawn. I thought I was okay.”

“That’s alright. That’s why I’m here. To catch the things you let slip. You do the exact same thing for me all of this time. It’s okay to lean on me once in a while, you know?”

You nodded softly with a sniffle. “I really do have to go to my meeting though.”

“Go. Call me when you get home from work okay? Take a shower, relax a little bit. I’m a few hours ahead of you here, but just call and I’ll be there. We can talk through it.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll do that.” You mumbled.

“You’re gonna do great, sweetie. I love you so much, okay?”

“I love you too. I’ll talk to you later.”

*four hours later*

“Is that my bed?” Shawn asked leaning back with an arm behind his head with abs on full display.

Ugh.

You nodded. “I’ve been sleeping here a little better lately...Is that okay?”

“Yea! Of course it is. Nothing makes me happier than you sleeping there. That spaces is yours too. That’s why I gave you the key to begin with.”

“Okay.” You murmured not being able to hide the smile that his words brought to your face. “You could probably send me a sweatshirt or something that you’ve worn recently though. The sheets hardly even smell like you anymore.”

He grinned. “I’d love to sweetheart. It’s just that by the time something could get to you from Amsterdam, I think you might actually have already flown to Amsterdam. I’ll be sure to send you back with plenty of material.”

“Good.”

“So...you ready to talk about it?”

“Ugh, I am surprised you're not a licensed therapist with how much you want me to talk about my feelings.” you whined. “How did you even know it was an anxiety attack?”

“I just remembered when I was going through my panic attacks at first, that I didn’t even know what they were called. The doctor said these two words, panic attack and anxiety attack, and I didn’t really know the difference. They sort of sound the same. But you know how like when it gets really bad for me it’s like...super quick? Like one second I’m just thinking about something bad and then the next I can’t see my way out of it?”

“Yea. That’s usually when we start breathing together.”

He smiled. “Exactly. I guess anxiety attacks can be a little slower. My doctor said they can actually happen over a period of days. It’s what makes them harder to detect, but it can also make them much harder on the body. It’s like thinking about something until it consumes you. Not being able to sleep, irritability--even at very lovable and cuddly boyfriends, muscle tension. You seemed to check a lot of boxes, honey.”

“I’m sure loveable and cuddly boyfriends was right in the symptom description, aye?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“You’re digging.”

“I am trying to take an ounce of burden off your back, and you are making it incredibly difficult.”

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath telling yourself to stop being such a little bitch. He was there. He wasn’t going to leave. You could trust him.

“It’s okay to talk to me, y/n. I’m not going to hurt you.” He murmured.

You groaned. “I know. I know.”

“It’s just that...if it were anyone else I’d say that you should find someone to talk to, anyone to talk to but I . . .I’m supposed to be your person. You’re my person and I just--I don’t know y/n, how do I help you through this if you won’t let me?”

“I’m trying Shawn. I swear I am.”

“Hey I know. And I’m trying to be understanding of how hard it is for you. But, I’m also trying to help. I’m gonna need you to at least meet me halfway.”

You nodded sullenly, fingers bunching up in the blankets at the thought of failing him, of not being able to be what he needed.

Shawn sighed. “It’s uh...it’s getting pretty late here. Let’s just talk tomorrow, yea?”

You peered at him through the phone unable to discern how deep of a situation this was from halfway across the world.

“Are you angry with me?”

“N--No. Honey, I’m not angry. I’m just...tired. I’ll call you when it’s morning for you okay?”

“Okay. I love you, Shawn.”

“I love you too. Get some sleep.”

That was certainly easier said than done.

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

He’s in the middle of a meeting when his phone starts to buzz on the table. And he can’t help but reach for it just in case it’s y/n. It is.

y/n: so I couldn’t sleep last night. Surprise. And I just kept thinking about everything that you said, and it made feel really shitty.

y/n: not to say that you made me feel shitty just that that’s how I was feeling

y/n: anyway. I couldn’t sleep, so I tried to think about how I feel and I tried to write it down. I thought I could share it with you. Idk if it’ll help at all I just don’t want to keep letting you down.

y/n: so check your email if you have time. I love you. K. Bye.

And of course the rest of his meeting is absolutely useless. Of course all he can think about is her, about what she might be thinking, about what she might be feeling. And there’s a much bigger part of him than he’d like to admit, that’s wants nothing more than to fly home and cuddle the hell out of her until she gets some rest. The distance between the two of them felt heavier than ever.

“You’ve got forty-five minutes for lunch. Then we’re at the venue for run throughs. Final creative meeting for tour outfits after okay?” Andrew ordered.

Shawn nodded already in search of his laptop.

“Can you have Jake bring me something for the drive? I’m not gonna have time for anything else.”

“Why not?”

“Something is wrong with y/n. I need to check in okay?”

He was so unwilling to focus on anything other than y/n that if Andrew had anything else to say, he didn’t notice. He set up his laptop and found a space to sit in the quiet and read.

So...This is weird. I haven’t written anything like this since my diary in the eighth grade. I just um am tired a lot lately. I don’t think it’s work because I love what I do so much. I guess that’s not great either because I just keep working even when I’m exhausted. And it’s not you. Jesus, it most certainly is not you. I keep thinking that my love for is going to plateau or something, but it never does. It just keeps growing infinitely. I’m not sure if it’s the distance between us at the moment. When I first got home it actually felt good to get back into my routine. I think it’s not until I can’t sleep that I roll over and see you aren’t there that it hits me. It’d just so odd for me Shawn. I want to hold you and talk to you and I can’t because you’re not here. And there isn’t anything that either of us can do about it. I’m not used to there not being a solution. I’ve always been so good at solving things, that now that I can’t I feel like a waste of space. And I know that if I told you you’d tell me to call you but you’re six hours ahead of me right now. Everytime we talk it feels like I’m keeping you from something more important, and I don’t want to do that. I want you to be happy and to tour and have all the success in the world. I think also, and this is just me being honest with myself, even with the people I’ve loved most in my life I haven’t always had my needs prioritized.  My mom. My brothers. My dad. So I really try to take care of myself and prioritize myself. I never learned how to let someone else do it for me, because every time I tried I got let down. Your so endlessly kind to me. And you love me like i’ve never been loved before. Me not letting you in when I’m struggling is not malicious it’s just innate. I’m trying to unlearn these things and it’s much harder to do when I don’t even realize that I’m doing them. I’m sorry if I upset you. I’m sorry that you stayed up for me last night only to be disappointed. You mean more to me than a hundred of these pages could explain. I know I keep asking for time, for some leeway, and maybe your getting sick of that. I guess I’m sorry for that too. I promise you it’ll be different, if you let me try. I want to try. I love you enough to do that for us.

He sits with it for a while. There’s a feeling in his chest that he’s never had with y/n before and then there’s another feeling into response to it. He gets out the app on his phone and meditates for a while because he just doesn’t know what it is at first. And it isn’t until after he’s breathed for twenty minutes and they’re in the car on the way to his next meeting that he gets this overwhelming wave of deja vu. It’s so visceral that he feels himself become sixteen again. He watches himself get off the plan in Toronto and drive to his first girlfriend’s house. He watches him explain to her that he’s got to go away and live his dream, and that them being together is only going to hurt her, that it would kill him to keep hurting her. This idea that...it doesn’t matter how much we love each other, it’s never gonna matter, because all I’m ever gonna do it hurt you. And if I love you, if I truly and genuinely love you, then isn’t the greatest act of love I could ever show you to let you go?

It fills him with anger. Anger because this was meant to be different. In hindsight it makes him feel like a child who had been shouting at the top of his lungs that he knew something that he so clearly didn’t. Maybe Andrew was right. Maybe Brian had gotten annoyed for a legitimate reason. Maybe their love wasn’t what he thought it was. Or, even worse, maybe there love was everything it felt like. Maybe it was larger than the two of them, maybe it was complex and beautiful and wonderful. But, maybe that only meant it would consume them in the end.

After that there’s nothing but sorrow. Because his thread, his being, his life was so deeply intertwined with her’s that he could see no way out, couldn’t imagine not being with her.

For the first time in a long time he was completely at a loss. And it seemed as though he had opened up a can of worms that was only going to hurt them in the end. What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Taglist: @kitykatnumber @lou-and-me​ @ourlittleshawnie @mutuallynotmutual @wanderingmendes @peacedolantwins2 @chels-nyc @justbeingoceana  @hayyitsfayy​ @claredolphinbear24​  @september-lace  @literallyshawn @mchutchmendes @liliane106 @iloveshawnieboi @samwillllson @illloveyouforever1 @grittyisaho 

[heechulhamster]

The Truth You Can’t Hide II - Junmyeon

KIM JUNMYEON (SUHO) x Fem Reader

Chapter 2[The Truth You Can’t Hide MASTERLIST]

1 - 2 - 3 -  4 - 5 - 6 ongoing

You did it so well for six years. You’ve hid your son from the biggest threat of his life. But one mishap led to the biggest secret in your life being face to face with the man you’ve kept him away from all these years - his father.

Mafia!AU, Angst.

This goes a bit way way back, enjoy the back story. :)

The ache that grew on your overworked feet didn’t even stop you from scurrying down the building and get yourself a cab. Not even bothering to free yourself out of the restraining work clothes. You’re not even sure if Junmyeon still lives in his old penthouse unit in the busy center of Seoul. The address itself was vague in your memory, the streets surely did change a lot for recognition for the past seven years. The city was noisier than ever, full of blinding lights and buzzing people of various appearances. There are more skyscrapers that filled the skyline, and the luxurious condominium you knew very well towered over the others. You could only look at its uppermost floor amongst all the glimmering lights of the city, hoping that in there is your son.

It wasn’t that you’re thinking that Junmyeon would ever hurt Jaejin. There’s this knowledge deep in your heart, past all the anxiousness that his apparent secret life brings you, that Junmyeon is still this gentle and well meaning man that you used to love. And the fact that he now knows that Jaejin is of his own blood just assures you that he is safe. This fear in your mind is this possibility of not seeing him again. That he’ll see this opulent and lavish life as better than he experiences with you. To grow up in a life like his father’s - to have servants at your beck and call, all that you wish will be laid down on your hands with a snap of a finger. Or that maybe Junmyeon will have all this pent up anger and desire to retaliate hiding your son from you. And with all his power and wealth, you know that if wishes to keep Jaejin from you, he’ll do it very well.

But there’s this hope in your heart that Junmyeon is the same loving guy you met over a decade ago.

The scent of both sweaty bodies and alcohol flooded your senses, both of which you weren’t accustomed to. Your friends, Haein and Ara who took the same major with you, convinced you that joining a sorority is a must and vital to Legal Management students. As these “sisters” would eventually help you once you reach law school. So now here you are, clad in a white dress that flowed just above your knee with a white feathery headband on your head guised as a halo. Apparently, the theme was something Angels and Demons. With your refusal to wear any skimpy and tight red or black bodycon dress, the exact thing Ara and Haein went for, you just sticked with the Angel part of the theme.

You three are at your 2nd year of college. And after the gruelling rules of the recruitment the last semester, all neophytes are excited to be rewarded with this soro-frat mixer - and you’ll lose the term reward very loosely. Mixers like these seems to be intended to find the members’ next college boy toy or some random exciting hookup for the night. Both things you aren’t exactly into.

You wouldn’t exactly call yourself a prude, but you’re not really outgoing either. Growing up in a conservative and traditional family, you grew up preferring reading books and staying in over the common high schooler choice of partying outside. A trait that wouldn’t get you very far in college.

To add to your discomfort, the party rules would keep you out of Haein and Ara’s company the whole night. It was a shackles mixer, where you’d practically be chained to a fraternity member the whole night and forced to get to know them. So you sat at the sorority house kitchen, far from the booming lawn and pool area without any idea who your designated partner would be.

“Is your ticket number 63?” A rather good looking, lean man towered over you as he suddenly asked.

You looked at the red ticket you’ve drawn earlier that read the exact number as he asked. “Yeah?”

The lean man tugged a somehow smaller man, one you could say that also was as dashing as the previous one. “Here she is man, told you you’re in for a treat. Bye, hyung!” The taller man with dimples you could swim in walked away laughing, leaving you and the smaller man alone.

“So, 63?” He asked with a smile, his small iridescent teeth and puffy cheeks making a notable appearance. You shyly nodded, noting that he also took the Angel part of the theme and he’s sporting a white short sleeved button down and white shorts.

“We uhm.. Kinda have to use this?” He raised his left hand that held cuffs, an act which you just chuckled to and agreed. He fixed the cuffs on your wrists and sat beside you on the kitchen counter.

“I’m Junmyeon, by the way. You?” You smiled at his pleasantries, his manner of speaking really spoke of class and formality. Not that you’re surprised as the college you’ve been in was almost considered to be for the elite and the wealthy. So you tried and respond with the same manner.

A silence filled with awkwardness filled the air between you and Junmyeon as everyone else unleashed their wild side around. The restroom was just adjacent to the kitchen and you just pretended that you don’t hear the filth going on inside.

“Oh dear that was strong.” You scrunch your face on the strong burning taste of alcohol on the punch you just drank. The unassuming fruity color packed a whole lot of kick down your throat.

“This? It’s not that strong.” Junmyeon responded beside you, gulping down his own glass serving of the punch.

“I’m not that good of a drinker.”

“Yeah, I noticed that you’re not much of a party goer.” He chuckled lightly, and the way his eyes disappear as it gets pushed by his cheeks was just a wonderful sight.

“I only got forced to go by my friends. They said it’s like a quintessential part of college, so here I am.” And then you remembered Haein and Ara, two of which you haven’t seen in the past hour. You turned your head around, looking for any signs of them.

“If your friends are the ones paired with Kris and Luhan, you won’t probably see them anywhere here right now.” Junmyeon downed another glass, lifting your cuffed hand along. You looked at him, baffled by the vagueness of what he said. “They’re probably upstairs, or maybe or maybe not here at all. You know, devils doing some devil things.”

“Oh.. yeah. I forgot that things happen very fast here.” You answered, sipping your straw for another sting just to hide your embarrassment. It’s been more than half an hour and you’ve just sat on a kitchen counter with Junmyeon, you thought that you’re probably boring him out. “I’m sorry that tonight may be pretty slow for you.”

“What?” His hands gripped the edges of the marble countertop, face turned to the side to look at you. “No, it’s not a problem. Don’t be sorry. I’m not interested in that.”

You weren’t able to help your face turn into a frown, to be blatantly rejected even before you took consideration of liking the man beside you. Sure, his wonderful appearance makes you flustered and shy, and you were more than interested to get to know him more.

“No, ugh. I didn’t mean that I wasn’t interested with you. I mean… hookups aren’t my thing. Slow is more kinda how I like it.” He said joyously before ending it with a wink which made your cheeks glow a bright shade of pink.

Unlike common romantic novels or narratives of college love, you didn’t hit it off with Junmyeon quickly afterwards. After the night of the mixer, which ended abruptly after some fratboys hitting the power supply with their illegal firecrackers, you seldomly saw Junmyeon. You found out that he was already a Junior, and he and his friends were a couple of frat members with great connections so they were able to sneak in at the party.

He wasn’t in the campus very often either. Rumor had it that he’s from a very rich family that runs a shipping conglomerate and that he takes units overseas. The very few instances that you ran into each other was only marked with a smile or politely calling each other’s names. Ara and Haein, who had bigger social circles than you, shared things that they learned about Junmyeon. Apparently, he majored in Business Management and was the only heir to their multi million business. And that he’s often considered too busy to date despite the few random flings he had just to keep himself a healthy young man.

It took another term before you got to connect with each other on social media, and you’d use the term connect very scarcely as he posts so little. Only a few posts about his recent trip to Paris, or the time he toured Italy.

College sinked in your skin too fast. You’ve dated around, you considered it to be an act of dipping your feet in the vast oceans. You had to be out of your comfort zone and you’re afraid of all the things you’ll regret trying.

It wasn’t even until your Junior year that you properly got to converse properly again with Junmyeon. You volunteered for an outreach in this student organization that required a lot of help to pack goods for the victims of a recent devastating storm. The long test week was over and you had a lot of free time, so you went and signed yourself up.

It’s still vivid in your memory how you only opted to wear a loose pullover and shorts. Not even bothering how you looked as comfort mattered most in working long hours of boxing food. You sat in the basketball gymnasium filled with busied people and stacks of instant ramen and canned goods. You sat down in front of a small box and started filling it with all the necessities, neatly stacking three cans of sardines and six packs of ramen inside with a bag of two kilos of rice. Silently, you finished box after box when you were suddenly interrupted by someone who sat beside you.

“Hey angel.”

“My name’s not ang-” You said as you turned your head to the perpetrator. Stopped immediately by the warm chocolate brown eyes that had contact with yours. “Oh, Junmyeon. Long time no see.”

“Yeah, senior year is really that busy.” He laughed as he sat down beside you and started packing his own boxes too.

“Why are you here then? Ah, you probably heard that I’ll be here so you went and signed up too eh?” You said in a teasing manner.

“Woah, where’s the slow and shy girl that I knew back at the mixer? College sure did change you.” Junmyeon said, which made the two of you laugh. “No, actually my father is one of the sponsors so, you know. It would just make sense for me to be here.”

“Okay, whatever Mr. Rich guy. Let’s just pack here so we can finish earlier, I have a lot of essays to write.”

The long hours flew by easily as you chatted with Junmyeon. It seemed like putting canned goods into boxes just went automatic on your hands as you lost yourself on the galaxy of his thoughts. He told you stories how he was mistaken as a celebrity in Italy, and the day he almost tripped off an ancient sculpture at Rome. Junmyeon had inserted a lot of jokes along the way, ones that you don’t think you’d laugh at if not for the budding interest you had for him. In return for his enthusiasm in sharing his stories, you told the narrative of you running into your roommates getting it on. Not understanding what it meant to have a sock on the door. And you sure do hope that the survivors of the recent floods would feel the extra love and happiness that filled along the boxes that you packed.

You thought that day would be very much like the mixer, nothing but an episode of sweet nothings. A wisp of memory that you’d look by after a few months or years and wonder why all he was is a fleeting fancy. No, this one was different for he asked your phone number after packing almost a hundred boxes. It was different because he called you that very night, asking if he could interest you to go out for dinner. It was different because Junmyeon was far different from all the flings you’ve encountered before him.

Junmyeon wasn’t the kind to be nervous for a date because it seemed as if he had everything planned down to the last detail. A fine silk void of creases and he left no room for mistakes. He picked you up at your dorm on the dot. He cleaned up very well with his exquisite dress shirt, obviously branded - probably even haute couture. He rolled up with his Benz, looking all shiny and polished. Junmyeon exuded so much calmness during the ride that you felt as if all the nerves were passed down to you. A perfect fit for a modern day prince, and you weren’t sure if you’re up to the task to be his modern day princess.

You should’ve expected the dinner to be far from normal, as he was far from an average person either. But not even in your hindsight did you expect for a rented vintage restaurant that mimicked Greek ruins, rose petals set the mood and candlelights illuminated the place. The grandiose of everything made you feel very little.

“I reckon that I’m way too overdressed for the occasion.” You noted with a light chuckle, trying to mask the pent up nervousness deep within you. The black vintage dress that you kept in your closet for very special events suddenly felt lacking.

“No, you look perfect. Everything else is just over the top, fault on my part.” And there was his endearing smile. “I just thought this was fitting for the daughter of a former politician.”

Your jaw dropped in shock, “How did you know?” It wasn’t very much of a secret but you tried and keep this fact on the down low.

“It wasn’t that hard to find out.”

Time seems to speed up whenever you’re with Junmyeon. You tried to cherish and savor each passing moment, you wish it were trinkets that you could pocket and save in a jar. The dinner was followed by subsequent ones, each more relaxed than before. The luxurious restaurant was traded for a movie night in his penthouse, still far from the ordinary but let’s be honest - is there even anything ordinary when it comes to someone as impeccable as Junmyeon?

The relationship itself, being committed to each other and official only came as a realization. It wasn’t marked by a wonderful proposal nor a question but rather an agreement. As if you just both come into terms that you’re comfortable with each other’s feelings enough to present the other as their partner.

It felt like Junmyeon has been a vital part of your life, his constant presence was almost a necessity. It wasn’t a toxic relationship but a rather very serene one, his friends almost consider you married. It wasn’t even far from thought, he asked for you to work in their company to be around you more often. An offer you couldn’t refuse for sure - you have your boyfriend beside you and a high paying job was a combination to die for.

Yet taking the job meant a compromise in your side. It was never part of your plans to work and settle down right after college, it was never in your sight. Harvard was the plan, you and your parents have known this ever since you were twelve. Take up Legal Management in one of the most prestigious universities in the campus, and then fly to the States to study in the most premier Law School one would consider. But that was far off from Junmyeon’s mind.

He wanted you to stay, here with him, be with him. He always would reason out that he’ll be able to provide what you need and more, to which you had no doubt. The Kim family probably had enough money to support up to five more generations, even with a lavish life. But to be a lawyer, a good and reputable one, has always been your dream.

But Junmyeon was your serendipity - a wonderful sudden discovery that made all else a blur. A sudden diamond on the way that made the hike for the pot of gold futile. So with him you stayed. As you couldn’t bear to break his heart and his own dreams, one that consisted of settling down with you he said. The thing about Junmyeon is he’s too idealistic and a hopeless romantic on the inside. He was very vocal on what he wanted on your wedding, about your children and how many. All of these fragile little gems that he cherished so much were on your hands, and you loved him so much at that time to crush it.

It was all smooth and tranquil until he started getting busier at work. It wasn’t even work that you understood as he kept on saying it was his father’s favor, who in turn started to grow weaker in health. He’s been flying from one country to another and back, sometimes even for weeks. What he was very busy about was kept unrecorded in the company. And you’ve started to question.

All it needed was an unassuming folder that lied on his work table for you to find out. Junmyeon was knocked out on the bed, too tired and wasted from proving how much he missed you due to his recent long trip. Curiosity got the best of you and you decided to put silence in all the questions that kept you awake at night.

But you would have rathered not look on the contents now that you read it.

Far from your anticipation of recent transactions of a new ship, probably an acquisition of new plane models to fasten shipping - it was the worst case scenario that you didn’t even knew was possible for a man like Junmyeon. To be fair, it was still shipping transcripts. But the contents were of the horrendous kinds, far from what you handled in his company that included family packages, beauty products or overall goods. These “products” were made for the worst members of human society, illegal weapons - those who could erase an entire locality with a press of a button. Guns of all sorts, those handheld and ones you thought was only issued for military use. Cocaine, LSD, methamphetamine, compounds that wouldn't have made much of a big deal in college but it sure does when it’s shipped in hundreds and thousands of kilograms.

And it was all undersigned by a certain SUHO.

Your mind quickly connected the dots. Whoever Junmyeon was doing this work for wasn’t necessarily the makers nor producers of the said equipment, they were simply shipping them. Making the impossible dirty work more than possible. And the shipping behemoth that the Kim’s family had was a sure fit for the job.

It all made sense. These certain container vans that were over the initial count that Junmyeon blatantly told you to disregard, saying that you were the one that made the wrong tally and count. The sudden emergency shippings that had to be made at midnight.

And you don’t know how to react.

This life was far from what you dreamt of, the righteous and abiding. Actually, this was the exact opposite of such. The defectors, rebellious, and one treacherous to mankind and life itself. You loved Junmyeon, but you definitely cannot accept this aspect of his life.

But you chose to not say a thing.

You were smarter than that, far more logical that just blurting out that you spied on his belongings while he was fast asleep after making you orgasm one after another. You knew that this would only lead to complications, probably even lose your life or your sanity if he knows that you’re aware.

So you planned your escape.

A handful of acceptable reasons was already jotted on your list. That he was too busy for you, that you wanted to go and pursue your dreams in Harvard, that you’ve been wanting to try something new in your life that doesn’t revolve around him because your life was with him and for him for the past two years. Even you tried so hard to make yourself believe that this was the reason that you’re leaving him. That it wasn’t because he’s living a dangerous and a life so wronged that you didn’t have it in your guts to be part of it.

That you wouldn’t ever want the growing life in your belly to take part of. No, the life that you’d give birth to wouldn’t only be another spawn to continue such a vicious act.

It took all your might and tears to leave. To watch him break down, and cry, and beg, and kneel in front of you only for you to turn your back on him on the very end. All his pleads and promises to spend more time and stay with you was all but a shout into the void as you still hopped on a plane fast to California to leave everything behind.

To break your own heart to stick to your morals, and to care for your coming bundle of joy.

And you wouldn’t let that all go to waste now, not now that you’ve worked so hard to be the best mother to Jaejin for the past 6 years. Not now that you beared everything alone, to depend on yourself starting at the age of 22 while raising another in your arms.

You arrive at the luxurious condominium, almost limping on the pain at the balls of your feet. You quickly dashed to the information desks and painlessly smiled at the attendants that looked so pleasant and formal towards you.

“Can I have a dial to room 52A, please.” You said as you plastered a forced smile on your face. Yet a sense of hurry was in your heart.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I’m not sure if you had the right room information, perhaps you’re trying to reach another unit please?” The attendant with caramel blonde hair and blue scarf responded to you with her pearly whites all displayed as a part of her job.

“No, It’s really for room 52A for Mr. Kim Junmyeon.” You reiterated yourself.

“Hold on for a second as I contact Mr. Kim if he’s expecting any visitors right now.” She politely responded once more as she grabbed the phone and talked in a shushed manner. “We’ve been informed that Mr. Kim is not in his room as of the moment, Ma’am.”

“Are you sure? I just.. I just really need to talk to him right now.” You tried to keep your composure.

“I’m pretty sure that Mr. Kim hasn’t been around the vicinity for the past few weeks. He’s probably residing in some of his other properties. Good day Ma’am.” She greeted you again with a smile before she entertained other guests.

Of course, Junmyeon would never be dumb. He’s too calculating of a person to sit with Jaejin here if he’ll hide your son from you. You lived here with him for a year, of course you’ll go here first. You scanned your memories for where else could he be, he probably had a thousand more houses or condominiums now but you’re left with no choice to stick with what you know.

So with hope in your hands, you headed off his old family home on the outskirts of the city.

The drive almost lasted half an hour, the village was meant only for the wealthiest of the wealthy. Just below the wondrous sight of the mountains yet still bearably close enough to the city center where their businesses would be. You remember it here, the lavish and aristocratic house that his parents owned. The one with marbled walls and doric columns and topped off with an exquisite fountain on the dead center. If they weren’t here, you might as well count the number of stars in the sky and sands on the beach as that’s how hard it would take to find them.

Guards clad in black scanned you, they phoned inside to ask if a visitor was expected. If they were this intricate on searching you, Junmyeon was probably inside. And Jaejin would hopefully be, too.

Surprisingly to you, the condescending gates were opened and you were let inside the Kim Estate. Guards ushered you inside, not bothering to speak as small talk wasn’t the reason you rushed here for. You just wanted to see your son, happy, and alive, to alleviate all the worries in your mind.

The living area was nothing short of exquisite, large antiquette sofa sets lined with white leather ornate the room. The grand staircase almost looked like something off fantasy movies. The whole mansion just reeked of immense power and wealth just like what Junmyeon exudes. All this glitter and glamour and all you’re searching for was the jolly laughter and toothless smile of your son.

“Mama!” You hurriedly looked on your left, where Jaejin emerged from the kitchen wearing a smile. With open arms, you almost ran into his embrace. The thud of your heart was almost as loud and booming of that of a thunderstorm. Almost squishing your son at the tightness of your embrace. “Uncle Jun brought me here, he said that we’ll make cupcakes and have more pistachio ice cream!”

“Oh he did?” You tried to laugh along his happiness, how innocent he was on just how you almost died of worry and anxiety over the past two hours. The tears that fell down your eyes cannot be held back, the wave of emotions that you felt just won’t subside.

“Why are you crying mama? Do you want a cupcake too?” He willingly offered to you the chocolate pastry on his hand, you just shook your head no.

“Nothing, Mama was just very tired at work today, Jaejin. I’m just very happy to see you.”

“Aw, I don’t like seeing my Mama sad. Is your new boss bad? Should I make him face the wall, mama? I don’t like seeing you cry.” Jaejin tried to wipe the tears that fell down your eyes, even blowing it a little in attempt to make it dry.

You just wanted to hold your son for a little longer, just memorize how warm he feels to your touch. How his giggles sound and how he cares for you like no one else would ever do. Because the past two hours just made you realize that Jaejin has been and is now your life, and it would kill you to lose him on your sight.

You saw a silhouette walk towards the both of you from the kitchen, donning a white work shirt and slacks. And you stood up from your seat and cleared your throat as you shot him your most threatening look. Lowering your head once more, you talked to Jaejin “Go ahead and have more cupcakes, bunny. Me and Uncle Jun have something to talk about.” Jaejin gave you a sweet peck on the cheek before joyfully prancing to the kitchen again.

You shared a look with Junmyeon and you knew just what will transpire between the both of you.

He started walking towards the study to which you followed suit. The environment was closed enough and you could lash out all your frustrations toward this man without worrying that Jaejin will hear you. You entered first and you quickly turned back to him once he closed the door.

“What the fuck, Junmyeon!?” Your hand smashed against the hard oak wood of the table, creating a loud thud that resonated within the space. “You’d really kidnap Jaejin from me? I thought we agreed on how we’ll do this?”

“I never officially agreed on anything, Y/N. And kidnapping? How will I kidnap my own child? If there’s someone who hid Jaejin away it was you!” He was still relatively calm besides the fact that his voice raised a few volumes up.

“That’s out of the damn topic, Junmyeon! You just took him without me knowing and you even emptied all his things in our apartment. Who the fuck in the right mind pulls stunts like those?”

“I was just trying to protect him! You’re the one here risking him, always leaving him alone anywhere. First he was lost in a large mall, now he’s left alone in a daycare for hours. Tell me, are you even competent enough to be a mother if you put your son in all these kinds of danger?” You gasped at his accusation.

“I, alone, raised Jaejin for six fucking years, Junmyeon. Just because you have all this money and wealth doesn’t mean you’re so much of a better person than me.” You pointed at him, “Besides he’s only ever in danger because of you, Junmyeon. So don’t go and put the blame on me.”

“What? Now suddenly I’m the bad guy. I barely knew Jaejin for a week and I’m the one putting him in danger?” His tone finally changed.

“Jaejin is always in danger because he’s your son, Junmyeon.”

“If you’re talking about being in danger because I’m rich, that fails to make any sense as I can afford all the protection he deserves.” Junmyeon reasoned out, walking to the other side of the table.

“No, he’s in danger because of what you do. He’s in danger because of all these people that surrounds you and your job, Junmyeon. Stop playing innocent because I know that you aren’t, Suho.” You dropped the bomb you’ve been carrying for years, Junmyeon’s mouth was now wide and agape on the sudden revelation.

“What? What are you talking about?” He stuttered

“Come on, Junmyeon. Stop playing fucking games. You say Jaejin is in danger? That's because your whole life revolves on playing with fire and walking on thin ice. Dealing and transferring all this bad shit known to mankind all over the globe.Having an army protect all the kinds of the worst people, protecting these killers. What parent in the world would not be frantic over their child’s safety if they’re running an illegal business guised as a shipping company.” Trembling was present in your hands, you don’t know how long the strength you feigned would put up with all the fear that’s deep inside your heart.

“What… How? When?” Was all the barely audible musings that fell out of Junmyeon’s lips. You turned away, in attempt to leave. But you’ve barely even reached the study’s doors when he spoke again.

“You can’t leave. Not anymore.”

“Why? Because I know how pungent your life is, Junmyeon? Would you kill me because I know what breed of asshole you are?” You felt your eyes as they started to water, tears slowly trickling down your face for the umpteenth time for today.

“No. Because Jaejin’s not leaving here. If you want to see your son, you stay here with him. If you want to leave, I’ll make sure this is the last time you’ll ever land your eyes on him.”

[categoryhouse]

“Come any closer and I’ll shoot, don’t fucking tempt me. Daddypool over here could use a couple ‘a headshots.”

Even with the mask on, Peter knew Wade well enough to know that the other man had no intention of being cruel, his hard exterior little more than a front - a means of protection from those who stared at him with disdain. 

To them, the jaded crowd of pedestrians, the ex-mercenary was inhuman; an otherworldly beast, present only to plague their collective existences. They didn’t see behind the bloodied mask, but when they could, they would muster nothing more than disgust, aiming it at the man like a barbed spear. 

The irony was nothing short of painful- they saw him as a bloodthirsty murderer, but the only weapons drawing blood were those of which they so proudly held.

Equipped in full suit, katanas and all, Wade could only stand and watch as they circled him. They were no angry mob, brandishing not much more than cellphones and cameras, but they scowled at him with contempt and nothing less. They only came so close, retaining a couple of meters of distance, because at the end of the day, he’d end any of them if they stepped to close. 

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t affected by their resentment. 

Peter stood to Wade’s left, the silver webbing along his suit glinting in the sunlight. The gunman him and Wade had just downed was curled at their feet, mouth bound by a gag and arms webbed to the pavement. He’d attempted to open fire three blocks down from Times Square, and if it hadn’t been for Wade spotting the poorly-concealed semi-automatic on his person, they wouldn't have been able to stop him in time. 

And that, unfortunately, was what the general public just couldn’t see- the side of Wade Wilson that was genuinely trying to change, to make a name for himself that didn’t just involve senseless contract killing. It was Deadpool that had potentially saved hundreds of lives, who had been on the ground and incapacitating the offender before Spiderman had even realized what was happening. 

The truth of the matter was that these days, Deadpool did nearly as much good as Peter. He was out on patrols daily, covering for Peter when he had to put in extra hours at the Bugle, but regardless, his previous reputation stained every life he saved and innocent he protected like wine, insidiously seeping into each one of his actions and marring his perceived intentions. 

Years prior, the media had a field day when they’d initially broke the story of the Spiderman-Deadpool partnership, taking the opportunity to make absurd claims about Spiderman’s ‘switch to the dark side’, and how they had been right all along about the hero’s intentions. There hadn’t been a paper in the greater New York area that wasn’t plastered with obscene rumours about the two of them. And yet, not one paper commented on Deadpool’s informal resignation from mercenary work, or the unofficial Avengers membership status granted by Stark himself. 

Instead, the papers chose to continuously frame him as a killer- unchanging, unrelenting, and insane. They chose to ignore the dozens of lives he saved daily, chose to accuse Spiderman of endangering the city by inviting the mercenary to stay. The truth of the matter was that Wade had been working towards change, towards using his powers in a more socially responsible manner even though it meant going against his every instinct. 

Peter could see the effort, could see how fucking hard the other man was trying in every way possible to be better. Wade tried, and though there were slip ups, and the occasional accidental murder, he was usually successful in refraining from maiming or permanently injuring enemies, instead opting to disarm them for the police to deal with.

And yet, regardless of his effort, of his blatant character change, the public still stared at him like some sort of freak, some sort of villain. Even standing next to their beloved Spiderman and the mass-murderer he’d just taken down, their loaded gazes firing loathing, disgust, hatred. 

“C’mon, ‘Pool,” Peter muttered, motioning towards the sidewalk, “Police are gonna be here soon, they’ll take care of this guy. Lets head out for food or something, huh?”

It was a struggle to keep his voice gentle, the unadulterated judgement emanating from the crowd of pedestrians provoking the anger expanding against his ribs. He once looked at Wade like that- when they had first met, when he hadn’t yet gotten to know the tender person beneath the leather costume. Part of him resented himself for ever thinking such a thing about Wade, and the other part just wanted to slap some sense into the deluded onlookers, make them see what he saw in the older man. 

Wade nodded, eyes trained defensively on their audience, before following Peter out of the commotion. The two of them were watched by wary eyes as they paced the streets, but there were no comments, no brave soul willing to approach.

No one wanted to bother Spiderman if Deadpool was around. It was both a blessing and a curse. 

They stopped at some tiny pizza joint sandwiched between a dry cleaner’s and a convenience store, grabbing a box to go and bailing as soon as possible, knowing that shopkeepers didn’t exactly enjoy having mercenaries (ex or not) as customers. 

The two men only travelled a couple of paces further before scaling an apartment complex, because unless they were unfairly high up, eating in peace as Deadpool and Spiderman wouldn’t go without garnering some sort of negative attention. 

Peter reached the top of the building first, tossing the pizza box onto an air conditioning unit as he waited for Wade, who threw his body over the roofs edge with little reserve. He pulled himself to his feet, adjusted one of his swords, and sauntered over to where Peter had settled. Wade left a few meters of space between them, and the distance was beyond uncomfortable for Peter, who was more than accustomed to Wade’s penchant for being as close as he could possibly get away with. 

Muscles still rigid from before, the ex-merc hardly reacted as Peter yanked his mask off, pitching it to the side and grabbing a slice of pizza. It was unusual, Wade not reacting in some capacity when the mask finally came off. At the very least, there should’ve been a whistle, a wink- something. The dead silence didn't sit well, caused his stomach to stir. 

He took a bite, dark eyes watching as Wade continued to stand still. “Hey man, take a slice. There’s no way you’re not starving after all that.” 

Only four storeys up, the wind wasn’t substantially stronger than it had been when they were level. But Wade’s continued wordless demeanour cut right through him, sent chills up his spine. 

When the other man finally opened his mouth, his voice was hard, vulnerable in a way Peter hadn’t ever heard before.

“What’s the point, Pete?”

The sun was beginning to set, casting a pale orange hue over the maroon planes of Wade’s suit. He stood with his back straight, chest puffed, a sign of external pride and confidence even though Peter knew that he was feeling neither of those things internally. For Wade, it was all about appearance, what others thought of him- more specifically, what others hated about him. He fed off of the negativity, took every bad thing said about him and convinced himself it was true. He truly, truly believed he was a monster- an irredeemable creature that was better off with a bullet through the skull.

It broke Peter’s heart. 

“If I’m killin’ the people they pay me to kill, they call me a maniac. If I’m savin’ their sorry asses, they call me disgusting. If I’m on my own, they think I'm about to shoot ‘em up or something. And if I’m with you, they’re convinced that I’ve brainwashed you or hurt you or turned ya evil and-” Wade, who’d been frozen in space up until that moment, began to pace back and forth, creating a warped oval of footsteps as words tumbled out of his mouth, “And there’s no point, is there? Me doin’ this? I could be fucking hot dudes in Australia, eating like a fucking king in Dubai- what am I doing here? If no one gives a shit, what the fuck am I doing here?”

Peter watched as he ripped a dagger from its hip-sheath, glaring at it only briefly before whipping it forwards into the ground. It stood up, perfectly adjacent to the roof it stuck out of. 

Having dropped his slice of pizza at the beginning of Wade’s rant, Peter waited until the man marinated in his temper before approaching, movements slow and steady and careful. The last thing he wanted was to make this harder than it needed to be. 

“You’re here with me, yeah? Figured out a long time ago that I couldn’t take New York on my own- actually have a shot now, with you as my partner.”

Wade’s shoulders hunched forwards, spine curving as he shifted his weight. Peter interpreted the motion as permission to take another few steps forwards, reaching a hand out to delicately brush at the other man’s wrist. 

When Wade didn’t throw himself off the building at the contact (which had, in fact, happened in the past, and wasn’t something Peter ever needed a repeat of), Peter moved even closer. He could feel the warmth radiating off of Wade’s chest, could smell the thick aroma of leather that wafted from his suit. 

“You’re here for me, being a better person for me and like- hey, maybe I’m not the best person out there but like, everything you’re doing? Just because they can’t see it doesn’t mean I don’t. Doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate it more than I’d like to admit.” Carefully, so as to not startle the man, Peter leaned forwards, pressing his forehead against Wade’s collarbone. His enhanced hearing picked up a nearly imperceptible increase in heart-rate, but otherwise Wade didn’t react. 

“Doesn’t matter if they don’t see it, Wade,” Peter insisted, eyes fluttering shut as he close the little distance between their bodies in a barely-there hug, “Because I see it, all of it, and I love it. I love how you’re trying, how much good you’ve been doing. It’s unfair that they can’t see it and I’m sorry, they fucking suck, I get it. But I see it, and I’m sorry if that’s not enough.”

And, as though he’d done it thousands of times before, Wade pulled Peter tightly against his chest, masked face buried into the fluff of his hair. 

“Course you’re enough, baby boy,” Wade rumbled, grip against the younger man’s bones tight- comforting in a way that couldn’t be put into words. 

The sun had disappeared behind a high-rise by the time the two of them parted, their hands still entwined after their bodies separated. They ate together in silence, the contact feeling as natural as anything. 

The headlines and the disgust and the judgement would always be brutal, Peter knew, but watching as Wade tugged his own mask off to smile over at Peter, he had a feeling they’d be just fine. 

[belladonnaandulriched]

the artist | chapter one

The pandemic had left us all feeling all manner of shaken. My mom and I knew we had to make the stimulus checks go as far as we could ever possibly make them go in those especially tough months given the whole ordeal came in the form of waves; my dad on the other hand clutched onto his money for dear life. Every penny had to count. Every single one.

It was because of all this here that I learned to hold onto things for dear life, the real important things. The good stuff, in particular Chris' number.

I kept my promise to him: little by little, I worked on the roses surrounding the portrait of him. I always had trouble mastering roses, from their shape to their delicate petals. But I somehow did it with the edges of each of the red and orange colored pencils. Once he was finished, I took a few pictures and sent them to Chris himself.

He titled it “Fresh Deadly Roses” after a song which he felt Soundgarden would make at some point once the music studios opened again. Even though the pandemic was over and the vaccine had made its way into everyone's hands, paranoia still lingered throughout the country. That vaccine might not be fool proof after all: as a result, the future of anything pertaining to music had been thrown up in the air.

In the mean time, I had found my way back towards the darkness that made up Anthrax. Adjacent to that was the power within Nirvana. It sounded so contradictory, especially given the underrated status of the former, but I needed to seek out the darkness, and the current music wasn't doing shit for me. Granted, I found Anthrax a few years before but it was good for me to make a triumphant return to them.

Such salubrious music I listened to as I found out high school would be ending so early for me. But it helped me. I lost myself in Joey's rough but strong melodies. His voice lifted me up from the floor. Those high registers made my toes curl into the soles of my shoes while his lower registers were full, almost sensual at times. I often pictured him singing from the bottom side of his flat belly, and he let it fill out just enough when hitting those low notes.

No one knew when anyone would tour again, and notably, I had no idea when Anthrax would touring again despite the posts from their Instagram and my incessant keeping up with them. But I had my hope they would come to the Pacific Northwest when time permitted: I was dying to see them, and I was dying to see Joey in particular. I confessed it to Chris at one point, “I wish you guys could tour again.”

He replied back with: “me, too. I miss going out and playing up on stage.” He often made note of that on his Twitter.

On the other hand, Joey was often quiet on social media, even though he had his own account next to Scott, Frankie, Charlie, and Danny. There came a point in which while I was drawing Chris and the roses when I wanted to draw him, too. To draw those coarse and yet strangely luxurious curls down around the sides of his head and atop the crown, and that nonchalant and yet emotive face.

I needed to find a good picture of him, one that would take me aback like the portrait of Chris and yet there wasn't much.

The poor man was too underrated—of all the metal singers in the world, he was one difficult to name off in the world. He always brought up the rear and yet I always found it incredibly strange that was the case surrounding him. He had such power and such intensity, and yet there was a quaint little boyish quality to his voice: he was just a boy after all. A lanky little Iroquois boy with a head full of jet black hair. Black as night and eyes as brown as the earth.

The lack of Joey depressed me, and yet I wanted to draw him so much. I really had nothing better to do than to take a stroll outside while there was a break in the rain. I kept my hands tucked in my snug jeans pockets as I made my way towards the center of town. The gray sky over my head served as a blanket of sorts, a cool moist blanket even with the rouse of the marine layer. The breeze blew through the roots of my hair with each step down the cobble stone walkway.

A voice to my right caught my ear.

“I was gonna be singin' the National Anthem—now I dunno what's gonna happen.”

Not an accent we heard here in western Washington. It was almost alien to this area, if I'm honest. Kind of like a New Yorker accent, except there was something different to it. Some kind of warping, like it had been turned inside out.

I halted in place to find out where the voice was coming from. I turned my head to the right to spot him there on the grass. I recognized him almost immediately even by not seeing him too much. He lingered before the little ice cream bar there in the middle of the grass; I recognized him even while he was wrapped up in a fitted little black leather jacket and snug black jeans. My heart skipped a few beats as I ambled towards him.

An opportunity had opened for me, much like the few days before with Chris in the art shop.

He was very handsome, more handsome in person than I had imagined. He even reminded me a bit of Chris with his black curls and soft features: however he stood at a much shorter stature and his skin had a slightly darker tint to it. He was also much slimmer than Chris, a lot slimmer in the chest in particular. He ran his fingers through the little bit of soft looking ringlets on the side of his head and he noticed me walking towards him. He raised his eyebrows at me.

“Hi,” he greeted me in a soft voice: a few ringlets sprawled down his brow and down around the sides of his neck

“Hi—are you waiting in line?” I asked him in a kind voice.

“Um—maybe,” he quipped with a slight twitch of one eyebrow. I grinned at him; an Iroquois boy faced on a Blackfoot girl. Who would've thought this would happen?

I locked onto his brown eyes even as I stood right next to him there at the shiny metal counter.

“You gonna get ice cream or sump'n?” he asked me.

“Either that or a lemonade,” I replied.

“Eh, it's kinda a li'l too chilly for ice cream anyways,” he said.

“Says who?” I teased him. He parted his dark lips but no sound came out.

“Yeah…” he said as he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. He was quite the cute boy, even though I knew he was a bit older than me. Chris was older than me and yet he and I bonded pretty well prior to then. Joey lingered there off to the side as I asked the guy with latex gloves who stood on the inside of the counter for a glass of pink lemonade.

I had a dollar in my pocket but nothing more than that, though. I nibbled on my bottom lip as I delved through my other pockets for some loose change but I found nothing.

“Here, you need some change?” he offered me as he searched inside of his jeans pockets. He took out some quarters and a couple of dimes and handed them to the man.

“Good man, Joe, good man,” he stated to Joey. “You still want a gelato?”

“Of course,” he said with an air of sass; he and I lingered back as we watched him pour me a glass of lemonade and then set it on the counter. I thanked him and stood back next to Joey again.

“Thank you so much,” I told him, and he showed me a sweet little smile.

“It's my pleasure.”

We waited for a couple of minutes and then the man handed Joey his chocolate gelato. He gave his curls and ringlets a toss back behind his head and then he took a little nibble of the ice cream. He padded over to me as I stood away from the counter to let someone else ask for something.

“I hope Anthrax can tour again,” I confessed to him and he gazed on at me with a pensive look on his handsome face.

“Yer tellin' me,” he said as he took another nibble of gelato. “The five of us have been gettin' kinda antsy as of late—especially once the vaccine came out.”

“I'd love to see you guys in particular.”

“I hope ya can! It's not often we see some girls in our audiences, at least from my point of view anyway...” I liked the way he enunciated certain words, like there was something endearing about his way of saying “not” as “naht” coupled with the soft boyish tone of his voice. He then turned his head to me with that pensive look still upon his face.

“Are you—Native American, by any chance?”

“Blackfoot. On my mom's side.” He raised his eyebrows at me.

“I ain't fuckin' with you,” he remarked.

“Why? The Iroquois are badasses.”

“But you guys fought the Sioux nation.” He moved his head in closer to me. “You guys 'n the Crow—ya fought the Sioux nation.”

“Yeah, but you guys fought the British, the French, and the Mohicans, though.”

“Oh, please, like no one would'a fought the British anyway,” he scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Or the French or the Mohicans, either.”

I took another sip from the paper cup of pink lemonade before I spoke again.

“I wish more people would show you some love,” I said to him. “You deserve it.”

He raised his eyebrows at me again and then his dark lips formed that quaint little Mona Lisa smile, complete with a filling out of his full cheekbones.

“So do you,” he retorted to me. “You n' I, we lived through the pandemic.”

“That, and I don't know anyone who could name Joey Belladonna, though,” I pointed out. He nibbled on his bottom lip and brought the gelato closer to his chest.

“I dunno anyone who could name—” he hesitated.

“Holly.”

“Hahlly.” He took another nibble of gelato.

“By the way, I love your accent,” I complimented him, and he shrugged at me.

“It's just that upstate drawl,” he explained, “nuttin' fancy.”

“I like it, though. It's kinda—”

“Kinda what?”

“—sexy.”

He tilted his head forward and raised his eyebrows.

“Ya think it's sexy,” he muttered as he stuck out his tongue and took a lick of the gelato. He locked eyes with me all the while, and I giggled at him. I probably should have told him that I wasn't eighteen yet, even when he gave me his number. I probably should have told him that he was the older guy for me.

But then again, there was something about reveling in the comfort of that mystery, especially with him involved.