#based on a true story my own and yes I found the wallet in my jacket pocket

[gothamite-rambler]

Kate Kane getting some juicy black mail material. This is based on a true story... Mine. Yeah I wore that cast for a month.

Kate Kane was busy painting in her apartment when her concentration was interrupted by the ringing of her phone. Seeing Bruce’s name pop up piqued her curiosity, and she answered, expecting news of a mission.

Kate (answering her phone): Hey, cuzzo, what’s up?

Bruce (his voice low and urgent): I’m at the hospital near my office. I need you to pick me up… Hurry. I need a place to hide.

Kate: Um, I can come, but what about your adult kids or Alfred? Aren’t they closer to the hospital?

Bruce (hastily): I’d rather they not see me until I’ve sorted things out.

Kate set her paintbrush aside, intrigued by the urgency in his tone.

Kate: All right, that response needs some clarification. If you’re about to say no, I’ll call them to meet you there.

Bruce let out a sigh that only fueled her curiosity, prompting her to grab a notepad and pen to jot down whatever details he was about to share.

Bruce (embarrassment creeping into his voice): So, I was searching for my wallet in my office at Wayne Enterprises… couldn’t find it, and I got so frustrated that I slammed my fist on the back of my chair. The back of those chairs is… way harder than I thought, and I ended up breaking my writing hand. Like, really badly. I can’t fix it myself… Kate?

Kate had muted her phone and burst into hoarse laughter, scribbling down this potential blackmail material on her notepad. The image of her cousin, the caped crusader—tough as metaphorical steel—breaking his hand in a rage over a lost wallet sent her into a fit of cackles.

Bruce (exasperated): Kate, did you seriously mute me to laugh at my pain?

Kate: No, no! I’m just suppressing my urge to cry—this is incredibly sad. Definitely not a hilarious situation at all! I’ll be there in a few minutes; I can cut through traffic from where I am. Quick question though, how did you sneak out of the building?

Bruce (rushing his words): I’d rather not discuss that. All I know is I’m definitely not taking a taxi back.

Kate (snickering): Got it. So, you’ll hide out at my place, come up with a good hero-related excuse, and return home without your family knowing you broke your hand because you couldn’t find your wallet?

Bruce (through gritted teeth): I’m so glad you find this amusing.

Kate (with a sarcastic tone): Yeah, I’m helping you cope through humor, but laughing at your misfortune. So, did you ever find the wallet?

Bruce (sheepishly): It was in… my jacket pocket.

Kate promptly wrote that down and underlined it with a wide smile.

Kate: You realize there will be a little bribery involved for my silence, right?

Bruce (sighing in resignation): Yep, yep, yep. That’s why I called you—you can keep a secret for the right price.

Kate (nodding, acknowledging the truth): We can negotiate the amount when you get back to my place. I’m never going to let you live this down, Mr. Calm and Collected.

Bruce (frustrated): Would you JUST PICK ME UP?!

With her keys and wallet tucked into her pocket, Kate left her apartment, already brainstorming a list of playful insults to throw at Bruce and devising the perfect amount to extort from him.

Kate: I’d be glad to, cuzzo.

[ninliane]

baby on board - osamu miya x reader

summary: you try to tell osamu you’re pregnant as well as atsumu loosing a few years of his life. probs one of my favorite stories :> (also kinda based off modern family episodes)

---

“Hey so I’m going down to the restaurant to try and close that deal on the Tokyo branch,” Osamu said grabbing his wallet and phone. “I really need this to work out so I won’t be back until the evening.” 

“Yeah, of course. Your brother, his team, and the old team all confirmed for the dinner at seven.” You stated, looking through the cabinets to see if you needed any groceries. As you closed the last one you saw Osamu pacing around the kitchen through the living room, a frown on his face as he looked under the cushions. You sighed, knowing what he was looking for. 

You walked up to him, not stopping when picked up his wallet from the kitchen counter and handing it to him. “You left it there two seconds ago.” 

“Sorry,” he responded grabbing it out of your hand. “This is a really important meeting and the last thing I need is any more stress. I’ll know their decision soon but I just don’t want anything unexpected to happen today.” 

You tensed up at that last part. “Yup nothing unexpected happening,” you held your head high averted your gaze and swallowed. 

“See you tonight,” and he left the house.

The thing is you had just found out that you were pregnant two nights ago. You haven’t told anyone yet as you wanted your husband to be the first to find out as he is the father of your child. The night before you had snuck out to buy another test just to confirm it, and again this morning at 4 am to dispose of the test and box before he could find out. 

You had planned to tell him today on his birthday but the meeting for long-awaited Tokyo branch had come. That meeting could have gone two ways, he could have it approved making his life-long dream come true along with having a son, or it could get rejected and he could break down or get mad if you told him you two were expecting a child. 

You couldn’t blame him, you need to be financially stable to support your family. And since you didn’t have a job at the moment as he insisted he would work, he was the only one supporting you.

Who knows how much one branch could make your family last.

Trying to push the negative thoughts aside for the rest of the morning you try to relax. You eat come of the onigiri’s for lunch, careful about what you put into your body from now on. It was only until you heard the doorbell in the afternoon were you anxious about the meeting. You got up and opened it to see a grinning blond. 

“Hiya sis,” Atsumu waved, “Thought ya might need help preparing the birthday dinner.” 

You sighed and gave a weak smile. “You’re a lifesaver thank you.” 

Atsumu talked aimlessly about his day, his training, and the team as you two cooked in the kitchen. Honestly, you were only half listening as you stirred the pot of sauce, nodding at whatever came out of his mouth due to yourself being anxious.

“So then Omi-kun was all like ‘you’re so lame. my serves are better.’”

“Mhm,” 

“And obviously I was upset because Shoyo distracted me from that last serve and messed up my groove,”

“Yeah..”

“But then I read somewhere on the internet that teasing is flirting? Kinda like little boy pulling little girls hair to get her attention. Do you think he-”

“I’m pregnant.”

You finally turn to him with a worried look plastered all over your face, leaving the wooden spoon in the pot. Atsumu’s eyes widened as he gasped and looked at your stomach, “You’re gonna get fat..” he whispered. 

You creased your eyebrows as he quickly waved his hands, “I mean, wow.” he looked at you and grinned, “Yer having a baby! Samu’s gonna be a dad,” he then let out another gasp in realization, “I’m gonna be an uncle! Oh my gosh, (y/n)!” he hugged you as you chuckled and held him, finally happy that you told someone. 

“Yeah, I’m really excited about it.”

“How did my brother take it?” he asked as he pulled back, his hands on your arms. 

You looked sideways and furrowed your brows. “I just confirmed it last night, I haven’t told him yet but I’m planning to do so today, but I’m worried because it all depends on-” 

“The meeting,” his eyes widened in realization. “That’s today. Oh, (y/n) it does all depend on that. But don’t worry-!” he said as soon as he saw your face panic. “He’s a respected businessman as well as a smart one,” his phone dinged on the counter as he picked it up. “I’m sure he’ll be fine- oh my god he didn’t get it.” his face went pale as he looked at his phone. 

“What?!” you shouted. 

“Kita sent me a text, he’s with Aran, they saw him in his restaurant and Samu told them.” 

“No, no, no, you have to put him in a good mood now!” you waved your hands up and down. 

“(y/n) he didn’t get his branch, is that what you’re-” 

“Listen to me, blondie-” you grabbed his collar and pulled him down to your level.

“That is close..” he managed to let out of his throat. 

“My raging hormones cannot take this secret any longer and they certainly cannot take an angry and depressed husband. Maybe tomorrow, but not today! There is another human being growing inside of me so you will tell farmer boy and his friend to take him out for food or so help me my baby and I will burn the rice fields as well as all your volleyballs.” you pointed to your stomach. 

Atsumu looked at you as he swallowed, gently wrapping his finger around your wrist to remove himself “Okay..” his whispered terrified as he took his phone out.

A couple of miles out Kita’s phone rang as Aran comforted Osamu. His eyes widened and looked to both of them, “Aran, can I speak to you please.” 

“Sure,” he patted Osamu on the back as he held his head down on his counter. 

The pair walked into the kitchen and Kita lowered his voice, “(y/n) is pregnant.”

“WHAT?!” he yelled out. Osamu lifted his head from the counter before deciding not to care after 0.5 seconds. 

“Osamu-kun does not know, we need to get him in a good mood before he gets home. Atsumu made it very clear that she has to tell him today.”  he showed Aran his phone.

“Yeesh, he really did.” Aran squinted his eyes. 

“Let’s go.” Kita gestured outside. “Osamu-kun why don’t we get some drinks before dinner, hm?” 

“Yeah, I’ll treat!” Aran smiled. 

“Mmrghhh…” he groaned. 

“Great. Aran, carry him, let’s go to the nearest izakaya.” Kita walked out of the restaurant, making sure to lock up.

--

“Okay, they’ve gone out.” Atsumu looked at her. 

You sighed thankfully and nodded “Thanks, I’m going to take a bath now before the dinner.” 

“Sure, the others are gonna arrive soon but take your time,” he added and she went upstairs to her room. Another notification rang, it was from Kita.

‘I hope she has a plan on how to tell him. Osamu-kun does not react nicely to change. Remember when they stopped selling the salmon onigiri in the convenience store near the school? He wasn’t in top form for about a month.’

Atsumu grumbled and put the phone down. He picked up the wooden spoon that (y/n) had left. Forty-five minutes later the door opened and Atsumu tensed up. He ran to the door as he tried to untie the apron 

“Who’s there?!” 

“Us!” Hinata grinned. Behind him was Bokuto and Sakusa. 

“Oh thank god, it’s just you guys” Atsumu sighed.

“Uh yeah, it’s us. Nice to see you too, Mary Poppins.” Sakusa eyed him up and down. 

“Oh shaddup, you try cooking for a dinner of twelve by yourself!” he shot back, tying the apron around his waist again. 

“Yourself? Where’s (y/n)-chan and Myaa-sam?” Bokuto asked.

 Atsumu sighed, “(y/n) is up taking a bath and Samu’s out with Kita and A-” 

“I’m home!” someone sang out as the door opened. Atsumu’s face paled. Osamu stumbled in his front door his Kita and Aran following him behind. 

“You got him drunk?!” Atsumu yelled at his upperclassmen. 

“I didn’t think he would! He had one sip and he just went like that!” Aran defended, he then lowered his voice “It probably added up the cause of you know what.” 

“Okay, I’ll deal with you later,” he put his hand up and went to Osamu who now stood still, crossing his arms. “Samu, someone is about to tell you very important news that will affect you for the rest of your life, so for once I need you to-” 

“Yeah I didn’t get the branch!” he yelled out. “I don’t care anymore! I don’t want anything to change anymore! I’m fine with the Hyogo branch, I don’t need anything else. In fact, the last thing I need is more stress for the rest of the year,”

 Atsumu’s anxiety went up has his brother yelled in the room. “Tsumu I’m tired, I just wanna go on a vacation and relax. The shop is fine, I can just take a trip to Okinawa or Hokkaido, just relax for the rest of my life with no responsibilities…”

 “If that’s how you feel then I don’t need you to take care of this baby!” 

The boys looked up to see (y/n) up in the stairwell, clearly mad. Bokuto let out a loud gasp, but no one seemed to scold him as they were all in shock. Osamu face turned into one that no one could read. 

“What?” he cocked his head. 

“If you want to be sad and mope around because you lost one branch then fine, I can do this on my own!” You yelled as you pointed to your stomach and walked down to the foot of the stair case. 

He looked down there for a moment before realization hit his face, “You’re pregnant…?” he asked softly. 

“Yes.” you stated firmly, “And if you’re not going to be here then I can do this myself! I’ve taken care of toddlers as a teacher and I can do it again!” Osamu slowly walked towards (y/n) as her eyes welled up in frustration. Atsumu’s anxiety rose up again. “Well?” you asked tightening your fists. 

“That’s the greatest news I’ve ever heard.” he looked at her with the most sincere eyes. 

Your expression softened a bit “Really?” 

“You tell me I don’t get another branch and yeah its frustrating, but telling me that I’m actually going to have a kid, a human mix of you and me?” his face looked worried but his emotions were sincere. “That would’ve made me a thousand times happier than claiming some branch.” Tears finally welled up in your eyes as he smiled at you, his eyes watering up as well as he held you tightly. 

The applause was around the room as they congratulated the couple, and though Atsumu felt like he lost a couple of years due to the afternoon, he couldn’t be happier as he hugged the parents of his nephew and/or niece.

[thiswasinevitableid]

idk if i missed the boat on monster march but mer + indruck + nsfw? maybe something like that scene in from the depths where duck is rubbing off on indrid's tail but... not interrupted by abominations? with treasured human pet talk?

Nope, the boat is not missed. I’m pretty much taking these until the last few days of the month. Here you go!

There are rough days. There are bad days. There are terrible days. 

And then there’s whatever kind of godforsaken day Duck is having. 

It started with Winnie coughing up a hairball right on his pillow. Then he was out of coffee, trudged to the store to get some only to discover he left his wallet at home. Saying “fuck it” and spending the rest of his day at the beach seemed the best call when it came to turning things around.

Turns out his ex thought the same thing, and what started as an attempt to be pleasant while crossing paths ended with some thoroughly unkind comments about Ducks suitability as a partner, including his temperament, laugh, and appearance. 

His first spot for decompressing in the sun was overrun by seagulls, the second by a group playing New Wave hits at full volume, and on and on until late afternoon, where he trekked up the boardwalk to discover the Wolf Eel Bar and Grill was out of french onion soup. He went for a conciliatory sandwich at Amnesty Lodge instead. Barclay, saint that he is, gave him a two-scoop cone on the house when he went to pay the check. Duck retreated to the most secluded seaside spot he knows, the one where if anything happens to him, no one will see it, to enjoy his rocky road in peace. 

Then the cone toppled, the half eaten top scoop falling into the water and the bottom one hitting the rock. 

This is why Duck is now on his back, on the tidepool dotted rock, muffling a frustrated scream in his palms.  A tap on the shoulder interrupts him. 

“Don’t be sad. Look” two tan hands hold the now-gritty ice cream out to him, “I could not save the one in the water, but this one is only a little sandy. “

“Uhhh” Duck blinks at the merman bobbing in the waves, “no that;s, uh, that’s fine. Don’t feel like gettin sand in my mouth.”

The mer glances at his hands, back up at Duck, “May I eat it?”

“Knock yourself out.” He decides not to linger on whether this counts as feeding the wildlife. The merman is mid-bite before he even finishes his sentence. 

As the creature of the deep happily stuffs his face, Duck wonders why he chose this of all moments to talk to him. The merman first appeared a month ago, observing Duck while he was doing tide checks. A day later, he swam parallel to the shore as the ranger went for an evening walk. After that, Duck saw him whenever he was near the ocean. 

Duck prefers a life without too much weird, and thus ignores the strange and unusual unless it whacks him upside the head. Even then, he tries to shake it off and go about his day. So when the mer hauled himself onto the rock closest to the patch of beach Duck was reading and snoozing upon, the human gave him a cursory nod and went back to his novel. He only glanced up once, to see the merman sketching on a pad of paper; the mechanics of this happening in or near the water intrigued him, but not enough to make him talk to a fucking mermaid. 

“Mmmmm” the merman licks his fingers, “I like the little white bits in it best.”

“The marshmallows?”

“Yes! That’s the word.” He paddles his hands in the water to clean them, “you have very good taste in iced cream.”

“Uh, thanks.” Duck scrubs his face, not wanting to leave his oasis of solitude but not sure what’s going on here, “is there somethin I can do for you?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing. You are clearly having a bad day, and I wanted to improve it.”

“Man you don’t know the half of it; shoulda seen what happened when I wasn’t near the water.”

“I did. Oh, oh dear, that sounded creepy. I’m a seer and enchanter by trade, which means I can see timelines as they unfold. And, ah, I kept an eye on your futures today in the hope they would improve. Especially after that conversation between you and your former partner. I did not like how they spoke to you.”

“Not like I was a model of dignity and calm.” Duck scratches the back of his neck. 

“True. Nevertheless, were you my human, I would say far kinder things.”

Duck lays back down with a snort; he appreciates the sympathy, but today it feels like the universe has made it clear how little kindness he deserves.

“It is the truth. I would tell you that you are patient and kind. That your laugh reminds me of the shorebirds when they are joyful. That I have seen sunken ships laden with jewels and pearls larger than my eyes, yet when I hear the word ‘treasure’ I think of your face.”

The human rolls slowly onto his side, facing the waves. Rock digs into his shoulder as he studies the merman. He’s staying close, but seems to be waiting for permission to be in Duck’s space. 

“Why are you sayin all this?”

“Because it is true, and I like you.”

“You barely know me. Hell, I don’t even know your-”

“-Name. Ah, apologies, I am always a bit ahead. I’m working on not interrupting as much. And my name is Indrid.” The mer rests his arms on the rock, sets his chin on the back of his hand, “You are right, we do not know much about each other. I do not know where you grew up, but I know you take great pride in showing groups of small humans the tide pools and teaching them about the sea. I do not know what you like to read, but I know that I can sit near you and draw without you fleeing in fear or trying to take a photo of me.” 

Duck reaches out, presses silver hair behind Indrid’s ear, the lilting voice seeping under his skin, suggesting that maybe he’s not as terrible as he thinks. Like maybe something better is waiting for him “now you gotta tell me somethin’ about you.”

Indrid purrs, rubbing his cheek into Duck’s hand, “I used to live in Atlantis, but I took on a role that let me travel and see more of the world, both my own and that of humans. I settled here recently because the nearby mers are not territorial and the fishing is good.”

Rock catches his clothes as he scoots the last inches to the edge of the stone, “How come your drawings don’t get ruined by the water?”

“Enchantments. Though I did get Dani’s human to bring me waterproof paints.” He mirrors Duck’s arm, reaching out to play with the humans’ hair, his tail keeping him easily afloat in the water. 

The ranger closes his eyes to focus on the cool fingers stroking his forehead, “you really wanna spend your evenin’ playin’ twenty questions with me?”

“Yes and no. I came to see what would make you happy. If talking with me is the answer, that is what we can do.”

Duck groans at the reminder of why he’s hiding among the hermit crabs, “Gotta be honest, not sure what’d cheer me up. Everything I tried today backfired.”

“Let me try something.” Indrid’s face goes worryingly blank, then he grins, “I foresee an option that might help, though you will think it self-serving. I have a vision of you joining me for a swim.”

“Water’s a little chilly for that.”

Indrid zig-zags his finger through the waves, “Try it now.”

It’s like sticking his hand into a warm bath, “that ain't gonna mess with the fish is it?”

“Not at all. The spell only applies to you.” Indrid swims backwards as Duck strips down to his trunks, “here, there’s a sandbar where you can stand as long as you need.”

“Plannin on keepin me in the water awhile?” Duck teases, paddling over to join him. 

“If you will let me.” The mer circles him, and for the first time Duck notices the gold-red fan-shaped fin on his lower back, “I have many other things to tell you. For instance, if you look at that kelp raft, you will see otters in the next twenty seconds.

Four well-camouflaged bodies surface to their left. As they splash about, Duck remembers the time he mistook one for a piece of driftwood in the dim light of morning, tells Indrid the story as the otters play.

Something smooth and strong brushes his leg. Indrid is floating close enough that his tail keeps bumping Duck as they talk. 

“Hey, uh, could I, uh, could I look take a look at, uh, um-”

There must be timelines where he asks, because Indrid turns onto his back and adjusts so the last third of his tail waves in front of Ducks’ torso. The mixture of yellow-green and burnt burnt umber reminds him of an Undulated Moray, though the tail ends in a V instead of a point. Stroking one side leads to a splash and a sigh as Indrid twitches in the water. Duck continues the motion, the skin like that of a ray, and relaxes more with each pass. It’s soothing him and, judging by the tension leaving the muscles under his hands, Indrid as well. In fact, the merman is now so limp, his head is under the water and looks to have been for some time.

“Fuck” Duck lets go, moves to fish him out only for Indrid to contort and swim so they’re chest to chest.

“Oh right, gills.”

“Indeed. That was lovely. May I, ah, examine you as well.” There’s a purr in his voice. Duck nods, and the mer slips beneath the surface. His fingers trace along Ducks legs, then drag up the back of his thighs, pressing more firmly when they reach his ass. Duck barks a laugh, so the Indrid does it again before gliding his hands up to his shoulders. 

“Mmm, all of this feels as supple and strong as I hoped. Such a sturdy treasure I’ve found.”

“Jesus.” Duck gasps as Indrid nuzzles the base of his neck.

“A perfect treasure, sitting on the shore with no one to look after him.”

“Indrid.” His dick twitches in his trunks as the mer curves around to meet his eyes. 

“Yes?”

“Will you keep talkin like that?” 

Indrid loops his arms around Duck’s neck, “So polite. Perhaps I shall take my treasure back with me, keep you as I would a spoiled pet. Caress this wonderful body, see the most handsome face above or beneath the water whenever my heart desires.”

“Nnngh.” Duck whimpers, wrapping his arms around Indrids waist and hiding his blush in the crook of his neck, “M’not worth that kinda talk.”

“On the contrary, you are worth more than all the wealth of Atlantis, my treasure.”

Duck makes weak sounds of protest, the cruel words of the morning and his own mind drowned by Indid’s whispers. The merman is smiling at him in a way no one ever does; like he’s seeing Duck with all his flaws, fears, and hopes laid bare and wants to keep looking instead of turning away.

“You deserve so much more than this day gave you. Will you let me offer something better?”

Duck nods, raises his head, “c-can I kiss you first?”

Indrid dips his head down. His saltwater kisses wash away the miserable day, replace it with curious lips mapping his own. A low, soft hum emanates from Indrid as cool scales stroke his legs. The tail starts low, petting his calves, but as the kiss intensifies it drags up to his thighs, flicking and teasing his crotch. 

“Fuck.” He’s groaning, bucking his hips in search of more as the mer smiles, indulgent and wicked. The next tailstroke is drawn-out, undulating across his folds and rubbing his dick. 

“Does that feel good, pet?” Indrid pecks his cheek.

“Don’t those visions show you the answer?” He tries for casual, even cocky, and it comes out as a gasp instead as the tail grinds side to side.

“Yes, but answers can change. I want to do as you wish, treasured one, not as my foresight tells me.”

“It feels so fuckin good, sugarAHfuck, ahnnnyeah, hell yeah.” He squirms as the tail thrusts, the tip bumping his ass when Indrid angles it for a better pressure. Then the mer stops.

“Remove these, sweet one.” He snaps his waistband, “I want to feel my perfect human slick and warm against me.”

Duck braces on a nearby rock to pull the trunks off, having only time to set them out of tide range before the mer slithers around him once more. The alien texture of the scales sets him moaning, his hips pumping erratically in hopes it might envelope his cock entirely. All he manages is a rhythm that brings him out of sync with Indrid. Panic circles his stomach at the possibility that this will be yet another part of the day that goes haywire. 

“You needn’t work so hard, my treasure.” Indrid coos, “plant your feet on the ground. I will take care of the rest.”

The ranger does as he’s told, Indrid wriggling so Duck is straddling him a few inches from the start of his tail. Satisfied with their positions, the mer cups his ass with an appreciative “ooh,” then uses it to force Duck up and down the colorful ripples of his tail. 

“Fuck, fuck, that’s so much better darlin, thank you, fuck, keep doin’ that and your human will do whatever the fuck you want ‘im to.”

“I want him to enjoy himself.”  Indrid kisses each of Ducks arms when they drape over his shoulders.

“Mission fuckin accomplishedfuck, god I wanna feel you on every fuckin inch of me, wanna kiss this fuckin stunnin face of yours until the sun comes back up, wanna--uh, Indrid, what the fuck is that?” A slit is opening in the upper part of his tail and something of considerable size is emerging from it. 

Indrid smirks, “Do you think you’re the only one getting off on this, pet?”

“Oh holy fuck” Duck goggles at the “was not expectin’ there to be two.”  He slides a hand between their bodies, runs his thumb from the head of one cock down to the base where it joins the second one in the world's most obscene “V.” Indrid trills, thrashes his tail when Duck treats the other side the same way. 

“ThaAAAaat’s wonderful but, but you needn’t do it on my account. I c-can attend to it once you are satisfied.”

Duck circles one shaft with his hand, gives it a firm, determined stroke, “Sugar, I won’t be satisfied until you’re as fucked out as I am.”

“Oh” the mer looks surprised, “in, in most futures you were too perplexed by them to want such a thing, goodNESSgracious oh, oh Duck, that’s exquisite.” He fucks the human up and down his tail in earnest, “I should have known it would be, you’re so talented my pet, so thoughtful AHgods below and above the next time I am going to spread you on the nearest patch of sand and take you in whichever way you choose, make my perfect pet go mad with pleasure.”

“Dunno, might make you use that sweet-talkin mouth on my dick instead of lettin you fuck me.”

“You say that as if it is a bad thing and not a delicious outcomeoohhh” the mer rolls his hips in time with Duck’s, “that’s it sweet one, right at the base between them yes, yesyesyes” cum spurts into the darkening water. Duck releases his hold, only to be dragged back and forth so roughly he grabs Indrid’s hips for dear life. 

“Fuck, right there sugar, lemme rub off on you like that, yeah, fuck, fuckme that’s so fucking good ohfuck, Indrid, ‘Drid!” He cums, heat shooting through him so intensely it’s amazing the water doesn’t boil. He clings to Indrid like an anemone to rock, pressing breathless kisses into his neck.

 When he looks up, his hiding spot is coming closer, Indrid swimming them there with ease. The merman retrieves his swim trunks from where they were cast away, presents them to him with a flourish.  Duck laughs, pulling them on before pulling a towel from his little reusable bag. 

“Don’t know about you, but I feel a hell of a lot better.” Duck lays down on the fabric, rock beneath it still warm from the sun. 

“I was alright to begin with, but I take your point. That was wonderful. And I am glad I could make you feel better.”

There it is again, that smile that makes Duck feel more seen than he has in months. 

“Don’t suppose you’d be up for makin me feel better tomorrow too? Not that I hope it’s as shitty as today, more that I get the sense seein’ you will make me feel better even if I already feel pretty damn good.”

Indrid raises up enough to kiss Duck once, tenderly, on the lips, “I would like nothing better, my treasure.”

[traitorousheroes]

Taboo (Comedian!Will AU)

(This is a snippet of something that I may or may not ever finish. Season 3 AU after Hannibal turns himself in.)

“And we’re back with Will Graham, who’s new comedy special, Signs of Anxiety, is now streaming on Netflix. Will, great to see you.”

“Thanks for having me on, Conan.”

“Now, you’ve had a meteoric rise in the comedy world. You started about a year ago in Baltimore, right?”

“Yeah, it’s been a really wild ride. Definitely not the way that I saw my life going.”

“You used to work with the F.B.I., didn’t you?”

“Like I said, not what I imagined my life to be.”

Will shifted on his bed, trying in vain to get comfortable. After a few minutes he sat up, leaning against the wall and window frame behind him, and stared at the chair next to him. It had been over two months since Hannibal had sat in it. There was a faint coating of dust, slightly less in the places where he had been, but just enough to leave an impression of him.

The cold of the windowpane seeped into the back of his skull, a counterpoint to the still healing stitches that tugged on his forehead. According to the doctor he had seen the laceration was healing well. She had complimented whoever had done the stitches. Will hadn’t had the heart to tell her that the one who had been carving into his skull had been the one to fix him up. Granted, Hannibal had undone the ones that Cordell had made, but Will figured it was just another sign of his possessiveness.

“Not going to think of me?”

Will let out a deep sigh, opening his eyes to see Hannibal sitting on the chair. The doctor looked much the same as he had the last time Will had seen him. There was a hint of a smile around Hannibal’s lips, which he found himself mimicking.

“I knew it was a lie,” Will told him. “You didn’t.”

“And here again you stand victorious.”

“I don’t feel victorious.”

Hannibal tilted his head to the side, considering him. “What do you feel?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I thought it would feel better.”

“You have court in the morning, do you not? Will you see me there?”

“No. Not tomorrow, at least. Maybe at the actual trial, if the lawyers don’t decide that I’m a terrible witness.”

“A witness to your own manipulations. I can see how the prosecutor would like that.”

“I won’t be one of your victims,” Will said. “If I’m lucky they’ll both decide that I’m too compromised to be of use.”

“Compromised?” Hannibal asked.

“I know you as well as I know myself,” Will admitted. “The prosecution won’t use me because your defense would use the fact that I was a honeypot to discredit me. The defense won’t use me because you won’t let them.”

“I won’t.”

“Zero sum. We’ve made sure that I’m off the board.”

“Then what will you do? You’re free.”

“Am I?” Will asked him. “You said I was in your memory palace, victorious. And yet here you are.”

“Victorious,” Hannibal replied with a smile. “You know where I am, just as you wanted.”

“Just as you wanted.”

The words came out biting, but Hannibal only smiled. Will sighed, looking over at the clock. The neon green lights blinked out that it was only ten p.m., far too early for him to even think of going to sleep. Sleep was a fickle friend these days, but one that he had hoped would quell the thoughts that raced through his head.

Will swung his legs over the side of his bed, standing up and walking past the empty chair to his kitchen. Buster looked up from his dog bed, toddling up and rubbing against his leg as he flipped on the light. The smile on Will’s face felt a little more genuine as he reached down and gave him a pat. There was a bottle of whiskey on the counter, almost gone, which Will looked at with a grimace.

In a snap decision, Will walked over to his dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and a dark henley. Grabbing his coat, Will stuffed his wallet and keys into a pocket before putting on a pair of boots. A few more of his dogs looked up, but he let out a sharp hiss that made them lay back down. Closing the door and locking it behind him, Will walked over to his station wagon. It took the better part of an hour to drive to Baltimore, and a little over twenty minutes to find a bar that was open on a Tuesday night. Parking his car, Will made his way to it, paying the cover charge before going and finding a seat at the bar.

There was a pretty generous crowd, though most of them seemed to be focused on the stage where someone was performing standup. Will paid the man half an ear as he ordered a neat whiskey. It was nice background noise, the laughter of the crowd polite as he landed a joke. Before long the comedian finished his set, ceding the stage to the next performer. Will felt a bit bad as he started his set, the man clearly nervous and unsure.

“You know, you’re the only guy with his back to the stage.”

Will glanced at the man who had taken the seat next to him out of the corner of his eye. He shrugged, wincing slightly as the joke the new performer made fell flat. The man next to him waved to the bartender, who apparently was familiar enough with him to place a drink down with no need of an order.

“Raymond Kirk,” the man introduced himself.

“Graham,” Will said, not willing to bet on the man not recognizing his full name.

“Not a fan of comedy?”

“Needed to get out of my house. This was the first place I saw. Your set was good.”

“You were paying attention.”

“It’s better than listening to canned music over a stereo system.”

“You wound me.”

Will glanced at him again, his mind automatically placing the most damage that he could do. Raymond wasn’t stocky, but a strike to his midsection would wind him, bend him double as he tried to gasp for air. It would be easy enough to throw his head against the wood of the bar, denting the skull hard enough that he would never wake up. Or perhaps grabbing him around the neck, putting enough pressure on his throat for him to go limp before snapping it.

“If I wanted to do that, you’d know it,” Will told him, shaking off the thoughts. “You aren’t from around here, are you?”

Raymond laughed. “That obvious?”

“Not to most people,” Will said with a shrug. “What brings you to Baltimore?’

“I’m on tour,” Raymond said. “I thought it’d be nice to try out a few new jokes at some open mics while I’m out.”

“Sounds nice.”

“It’s not too bad. So, you don’t do anything with comedy?”

“Never had the chance,” Will said, lightly tapping his temple with his knuckle. “My job doesn’t really intersect with it.”

Unless he considered the puns and jokes that Hannibal had made. Which he tried not to.

“Never watched a special on Netflix or anything?”

“I don’t really have time for it.” Will thought for a moment. “I didn’t have time for it.”

“Well, it's never too late to try something new,” Raymond said. Will looked askance at him. “You go up and give it a try, and I’ll get you tickets to my show.”

“I don’t have a set.”

“You look like someone who does well under pressure,” he replied. “I know the guy who’s running this tonight. If I give you twenty minutes for a five minute set, you think you can do it?”

Will looked at him, meeting his eyes for a split instant. Raymond was open and honest, moreso than anyone else he had been around in a year... aside from Hannibal. For a moment it threw him, and Will looked back down at his glass. Even so, he hesitated for a moment, before downing his drink.

“Add another drink to that bet and I’ll do it,” Will said.

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

“So, most comedians tell stories about how they bombed their first set,” Ellen said. “I know I have. What was your first experience in comedy like?”

“Probably a bit different than most people,” Will said, crossing his legs. “I had just walked into a bar looking for a drink, and then somebody -”

“Raymond Kirk,”

“Raymond, yeah,” Will said, a fond smile crossing his face. “Comes up to me and dares me to go up on stage. He told me later that he originally thought it would be a laugh and that he would give me tickets to his show as recompense.”

“But you surprised him.”

“I think I surprised everyone that was there. Certainly I surprised myself.”

“And it’s true that the set eventually became part of your special?”

“Yeah, actually. People really seem to like it when you talk about how fu-” Will caught himself, sharing a chuckle with Ellen. “How screwed up the human brain can be.”

“And you’re something of an expert on that.”

“In more ways than one. I never thought my college degree would be used for comedy.”

“You have a Master’s in Forensic Science?”

“Yes. I was a cop for ten years, and I taught at the F.B.I. Academy at Quantico about criminal profiling based on forensic evidence.”

“Definitely not what most people think when they think of a comedian. Now your special deals with mental health, specifically troubles that you yourself have had. Do you find it hard to be so open about it?”

[likeadeuce]

Raven Cycle WIP: Adam & Gansey

A little WIP for mandi2341: Based on Adam & Gansey’s first meeting as related in Chapter 15 of The Dream Thieves: in which everyone has daddy issues, and Gansey may have found an honest mechanic.

Adam fastened his seatbelt and sank into the passenger seat of Gansey’s car, his mind dizzy in wonder. He was going to miss the start of first period, and it didn’t even scare him.

Adam had spent his first six weeks at Aglionby terrified of walking through a door too late (clearly not allowed), or too early (so pathetically eager), or just as the bell sounded  (surely this would also break some kind of unwritten rule that all the other Aglionby boys had known since birth).  

But this morning, Adam was going to walk into Latin class next to Richard Gansey III, and everything would stop long enough for Gansey to share a bemused and improbably charming apology about the continued misfortunes of his splendid but temperamental 1973 Camaro. Old Flintlock would have heard a version of this story often enough that he wouldn’t bother with the  sardonic suggestion that Mr. Gansey consider a less aesthetically pleasing but more consistently functional mode of transportation before gesturing for him to sit and continue with the class. 

Only this time, Adam would be part of the story, 

Adam Parrish who had graciously endangered his own punctuality in order to help a fellow student in need. Adam, in a plot twist, not only transferring in from public school to dominate these lifelong prep school kids in Latin exercises, but proving to have a gifted hand for fixing a classic car. For all this, Adam would have Aglionby’s Most Likely to Succeed vouching for his skill, his helpfulness, his social value-- or, no, face it.  Gansey’s proper title was Aglionby’s Reasonably Unlikely To Fuck Up the Foregone Conclusion of Success He Was Granted at Birth as soon as that Roman numeral attached to his name.  

If that was all true, though. . .

Why did the Gansey who was easing the Camaro back onto Henrietta’s main road look so sheepish? "My dad,” he said to Adam, “didn't want me to buy this car. According to him, you can have a car like this if it's your hobby. And in his opinion I already have a hobby.”

“Right. Yes. The -- archaeology thing?” Adam had only the vaguest idea of what Gansey’s unusual extracurriculars consisted of, but they felt like a much safer topic than fathers.  Aglionby boys always wanted to talk about their dads -- angrily or reverently, it hardly seemed to matter. 

This was a tradition in which Adam Parrish never intended to participate.

Gansey gave a wan smile. "Something like that." He hesitated as though he might say more, then decided not just yet. "He made me promise if I did buy it, that I would find an honest mechanic. Which I clearly should have done already, but I haven’t because I don’t know where to start." This didn’t sound like a question, but it felt like an opening Gansey was giving him.

“It’s tricky,:  Adam wondered how honest Gansey really wanted his mechanic to be but then he thought, what the hell. He had spent enough time observing Aglionby’s conversational minefields, with all their zigzag maneuvers between decorum and insult. No time like the present to put his foot out and hope for steady earth. “If I were any mechanic here in the Valley and you came in with that car, and that --” Adam almost said that face but he switched it up at the last second, gesturing at the Aglionby sweater Gansey had put back on to cover his slightly greasy shirt “-- that outfit.  I don’t know if I could resist the urge to cheat you.”

Gansey’s smile widened. “Tough but fair!”

Adam let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Then, maybe because Gansey had accepted the barb, or maybe because he was always going to do it, Adam reached for his wallet and wriggled out one of 3 or 4 battered cards. Boyd had given these to him, with the admonition that if he was going to waste time and money at that fancy school, he’d better take the chance to drum up some business. Until just now, Adam thought he would have faced down a firing squad rather than admit to any of his classmates that he worked as a mechanic. But Gansey seemed so impressed by his competence; Adam swelled with the weird pride of being able to teach this untouchable princeling something that mattered to him.  

“Look,” Adam flashed the card at Gansey, and then he slid it under  a clip attached to the passenger sun visor. “That’s the card for Boyd’s Automotive. I’m not saying they’re especially honest, but if you come by Saturday between three in the afternoon and close of business which is  . .whenever, really.  I’ll be there, and you can get a full tune up and diagnostic, so things don’t keep breaking one at a time. Plus I can make sure they don’t rob you blind.”  

“Boyd’s Automotive,” Gansey repeated, something not quite adding up. “Is that where you hang out for fun?”

Adam had laid this out clearly, he thought, but Gansey was going to make him explain it in small words. “It’s where I work. For money.”

“Oh, shit,” Gansey shook his head. “Sorry I wasn’t -- listen, can I pay you? For the lesson this morning, I mean.”

“Please don’t. That was a good deed, though -- I’ll tell Boyd it was viral marketing. That should really impress him.”

“An elaborate plan to bring in business?” Gansey took one hand off the wheel to slap the dashboard. “Glad the Pig here and I could cooperate.” He sounded relaxed again, so it came out very casual when he said, “At least let me buy you dinner. I’m supposed to go to Nino’s with Ronan tonight but no one’s seen him for two days, so that’s probably off but I’m stuck with a craving. . .”

“I can pay for pizza,” Adam answered shortly, although in reality it would cut into his food budget for the week more than he would like. He could at least wrap up leftovers; Nino’s always put out extra breadsticks.

“I’m not suggesting you can’t. But it’s my invitation and I’ll cut you a deal. Whenever, based on the particular expertise I have acquired through years of hard work, I am able to provide you with a service that has useful practical applications -- you can get dinner for me.”  Gansey sighed. “But don’t hold your breath waiting for that to happen. According to my dad.”

 “Okay, but. . .Gansey, everybody at this school has heard the stories. You do have . . .well, your hobby. I have to admit, I’m curious to hear it straight from you.”

“Yeah,” Gansey said. “There is that. What do you know about Welsh kings?”

[celtics534]

Harry, Baby, Hurry Through the Window Tonight

As promised, the hinny Christmas fic! Huge thank you goes out to @gryffindormischief​ and @thedistantdusk​ for being awesome and helping out with this cute story. Written for the SIYE challenge.

Another Muggle AU based from the prompt:Okay, he’s not Father Christmas, but he did have a very good reason for breaking into the house.

Also Read On: FF.net and AO3

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Ginny flicked on her bedroom light at the second loud crash. She had bolted out of bed when the first thud echoed from the kitchen. Because the cat had been snuggled beside her, Ginny had no idea what or who it could be; she lived on her own. 

 She rose off the mattress slowly, hoping to avoid making the old frame creak. Grabbing the cricket bat from beside the bedroom door, she cautiously stepped out into the corridor. She didn’t live in a large flat. Just a few basic rooms, such as a kitchen and toilet. Hell, the kitchen was only separated from the sitting room by a small island tabletop.

 The house was dark, but Ginny knew the layout of her ground-floor flat well. She stepped over the dumping spot for her team kit, which never seemed to make it into the laundry bin at first. She then dodged the recently arisen Christmas tree near the sofa. The kitchen was cast in a half-light from the streetlamp outside, giving Ginny a view of a dark shadow crouched near the sink. 

 Not giving it a second thought, Ginny raised the bat up high bring it down as hard as she could on the figure. 

 "Fuck!" The figure spun on its heels, keeping low to the ground but now raising arms to cover its head. Ginny brought the weapon back up high, more than ready to swing again when the man made a stop gesture. "Wait. I can explain."

 "So can I." Ginny brought the bat down to his shoulder with a satisfying smack. "You broke into my house."

 The man --and now Ginny knew it was a man -- nodded as he crawled sideways, trying to get out of her swinging zone. "Yes I did, and I'm sorry about that, but it was the first place I found with an unlocked window!" 

 "Were you looking for an easy score?" Ginny followed him as he scooted across the floor, her bat at the ready. "Because if so, you’ve got another thing coming!"

 "Easy score?" She saw the man blink as he passed in a long beam of the street light. His eyes made her pause. They were hypnotic green. He shook his head wildly. "No! I wasn't coming to rob you. I was trying to get away."

Ginny held her pose, bat ready for the next swing, but her brow furrowed. "Get away from what?"

 The man kept his hands up, his palms showing. "Can I stand up to tell you? The floor is rather uncomfortable."

 She considered saying no; she didn't want him to have any advantage. But instead, she nodded. When he rose onto his knees, Ginny kept her voice low and menacing like Bill had instructed her all those years ago; it kept fear in her opponent. "You make one wrong move and I aim for the side of your head. And I don't miss."

 His eyes went wide as he nodded. "Fair enough." When he got to his feet, Ginny couldn't help but give him  a once over. Not only were his eyes entrancing, but he was fit. Really fit. Messy black hair stuck up in odd, strangely appealing angles on the top of his head, which somehow worked well with the scruff growing on along his jawline. Fuck. If robbing houses wasn't his career, then he must be a model. 

 Don't go there, girl, Ginny scolded herself. Now was not the time or place. The man was a full head taller than her so she had to look up in order to see his eyes;she wanted to be on guard for any changes, not just because they were so… provocative. 

 "So I guess I'll start with my name." He gave her an awkward yet way-too-endearing smile. "I'm Harry."

 Looks and a name to match royalty. Fuck, Ginny! She pushed her ridiculous musings aside. "All right, Harry." Ginny gestured with her chin towards the stools that sat by the island. "Why are you in my flat?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 "So just to get this straight." Ginny pointed the uneaten half of her reindeer-shaped biscuit. "This bloke at the pub thought you were making a move on his girl, but really she had made a move on you. So you ran away because he had mates ready to beat you up. You choose a random road and decided to try and hide in one of the flats. The first few windows were locked but mine wasn't, because I'd burnt dinner last night and needed to open the window to let the smoke out." She quirked a brow. "Does that about sum it up?" 

 Harry nodded, taking a sip from the chipped mug that Ginny had given him. This had become one of the weirdest days of his life. It had started with that handsy girl in the bar, and now he was having tea and biscuits with the woman who's flat he'd broken into. After he'd started his tale, Ginny had started the kettle, and now thirty minutes later, they sat together like best mates. 

 Really though… Harry couldn't help but like Ginny. She was inquisitive, funny (based on the comments made during his storytelling), and not to mention she had one hell of a swing. And none of that even started to cover how fucking attractive she was. At first, he'd considered letting her keep swinging that bat at him if it meant he could stare at her.  

 "So there is just one thing that I don't quite understand." Ginny licked at her upper lip, removing a few stray crumbs. Harry had to force himself to focus on her words rather than her movements. "Why did you try to open windows? That just seems like an odd choice to make."

 He nodded. She made a good point. "Honestly... I heard their voices yelling down the street and I just went into a ‘get the fuck out of the way’ mode. I didn't really think. It was a first instinct." 

 Ginny smirked an all too sexy smirk. "Quick on your feet there, Harry." 

 Was it normal to get aroused from someone saying his name? Harry swallowed hard, hoping his cheeks didn't give away his current -- thoughts. “Well, I mean...” His hand came to rub the back of his neck. “They don’t let just anyone become a bobby.”

 “Hmmm.” Ginny’s smile became mischievous. “That true. Gotta be careful with who you trust with handcuffs.”

 Harry, who had just taken a bite from his biscuit, started to choke. He coughed, clearing his lungs of the offending cake. 

 Ginny laughed, reaching across the small table to pat his back. “Really, I should be asking to see your warrant card.” 

 Through sharp intakes of breath, Harry reached into his trousers pocket and pulled out the little wallet he kept his card in. He flipped the cover off, revealing his horrendous photo. Ginny examined it for a long moment, taking in all the information, before nodding in satisfaction. “I guess you’re safe from my bat.” She winked. “For now.”

 “Much obliged,” Harry said through large breaths. 

 She smiled at him, leaning back into her chair. They sat in comfortable silence, the sounds of merry crowds milling outside filtered by the thick flat walls. Harry tried to keep himself from staring at Ginny, but it was a nearly impossible challenge. His eyes flickered between the freckles that spread across her cheeks and nose and the few strands of hair that remained out of the messy ponytail falling over her dark brown eyes… her bewitching eyes. Pull it together Potter!

 He cleared his throat, nodding towards the last biscuit on the plate. “Wanna split it?”

 Ginny cocked her head, squinting at him in consideration. After a moment she smiled and nodded. “I guess in the Christmas spirit, I’ll share.” She broke the wafer in half and handed one side to Harry. “But just so you know, normally I wouldn’t share.”

 “Well, then I feel honored.” Harry bowed his head at her before taking a bite. 

 She snorted, biting off the top of Santa’s hat. “So, now that you’re a wanted man, what’s your plan for the night?”

 Harry shrugged. “I guess I could go back to Remus’. I was supposed to meet an old college friend at the pub but he never showed, and”-- he checked his phone-- “never even texted to tell me what happened.”

 Ginny shook her head. “Some mate you have there.”

 “He probably got distracted by his girlfriend.” Harry rolled his eyes. “His excuse will be something along the lines of, he won’t see her for a week.”

 “Wow, your mate and my brother would get along swimmingly. Sometimes I think my brother will follow her in the loo -- and not to do anything that would get them on Santa’s naughty list. He just because he can’t be apart from her.”

 Harry laughed. “Joined at the hip?”

 “To say the least.” Ginny shook her head. “But back to you, my friend. What’s Harry’s new big bad Christmas Eve.” She glanced at the clock above the stove. “Make that Christmas Day plans?”

 “Oh, you know, going gallivanting across London. Find the blokes from before, challenge them to a duel to the death, win, impress all the women that have gathered around our battle and then find my future wife in the crowd. You know, a normal Christmas miracle.”

 Ginny stared at him for a moment, her mouth agape, before she started laughing so hard her shoulders shook. 

 Warmth spread through Harry’s chest as she laughed. Fuck, she had an adorable laugh. 

 “You, my good sir,” Ginny spoke through the tail end of her guffaws. “Have high holiday hopes.”

 He shrugged, hoping to feign nonchalance, but really his head was concocting a holiday fantasy around him and her. “What about you then?” His voice dripped with sarcasm, that the smile on his lips diluted. “What were you doing home on this fine eve?”

 Ginny brought the tea mug up to her lips, taking a sip before replying, “If you must know, I was already in bed. I have a long drive tomorrow morning and I wanted to leave early.”

 “Where are you going?” Harry tried to keep his tone casual while his mind played through different scenarios, all of which ended with her meeting her ruggedly handsome boyfriend for Christmas tea and having their own little present exchange. 

 “My family always gets together for presents. Typically I would be there tonight and we’d watch Love, Actually, but I had to work today so I figured I’d just leave tomorrow morning.” Ginny’s smile became wistful. “I thought about watching before bed tonight, but --” She shrugged.

 “It’s not the same,” Harry spoke quietly, knowing exactly what she meant. He knew what it was like to put off traditions that had once been an integrated part of the holidays. Ever since Sirius had…   

 When she locked eyes with him, Harry was certain there was more than just understanding passing between them. Her gaze seemed to ignite something inside him, making his whole body tingle. 

 “Would you like to watch it?” Ginny’s laid-back tone didn’t match the ardent look in her eyes. “I have the DVD somewhere around here.”

 Harry nodded. “Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

 Ginny beamed at him, making his heart race like he’d run a marathon. She stood from her chair and gestured towards the sitting room. “If you can figure out the entertainment system, I’ll make us some popcorn.”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Ginny pressed her nose into the warm pillow, refusing to let go of the satisfying feeling of being snuggled up in such a pleasant blanket. When the tip of her nose collided with something hard, her eyes opened in confusion. All she could see was green. Her pillowcase wasn’t green…

 She pulled away from Harry’s shirt, quickly becoming aware of her surroundings. Her sitting room sofa, a throw blanket, Harry’s back against the back of the sofa, his arm resting over her hip. Ginny was too shocked to move. What the fuck had happened last night?

 As if it were a film, her mind replayed the previous night. Settling down to watch Love, Actually, talking throughout the movie, scooting closer to share the blanket, how her head had used his shoulder as a pillow. 

 Okay, Ginny forced herself to take calming breaths, which didn’t really help anything seeing as it just filled her lungs with Harry’s woodsy scent. How does he smell so good? She mentally shook herself. Not the time, Ginny!

 Slowly, she lifted Harry’s arm off her. As gently as she could, Ginny rose off the cushions, hoping not to wake Harry. Ginny picked her phone off the coffee table, checking the time. She had just over an hour before she wanted to leave for her parents’ house. 

 Ginny considered her options. She could wake Harry and kick him out, wake him up and talk with him, or just leave him and make herself some breakfast. It wasn’t a hard decision, as her stomach growled loudly. 

 It didn’t take her long to scramble some eggs and toast. As she took the kettle off the hot mat, a groan came from the sitting room. Ginny considered her options again. Deciding it would just be easier to keep everything natural, she grabbed another mug from the cupboard. 

 When Harry’s head stuck up over the back of the sofa, shivers ran up Ginny’s spine. She’s always had a thing for messy dark hair, and mix that with everything else Harry had going for him… I swear to God, if you don’t calm the fuck down, girl.   

 “And here I was gonna bring you breakfast on the sofa.” Ginny laughed as Harry nearly fell off the cushions to look at her. His charming green eyes blinked rapidly. 

 “I -- uh --” Harry’s voice was alluringly rough, and Ginny had to contain another shiver. He cleared his throat. “Not that your sofa wasn’t comfy or anything, but why did I sleep on it last night?”

 Ginny snorted. “Because I wasn’t gonna let my almost robber sleep in my bed.” 

 Harry started at that. “That’s not what I --” 

 “We fell asleep watching the film last night,” Ginny interrupted, hoping to avoid giving Harry a heart attack. 

 “We --” Harry stood from the sofa and made his way over into the small kitchen. “Oh, right.” He stopped in beside the table, his forearm resting on the back of the chair. “Well, happy Christmas. I didn’t have time to get you anything, sorry.” 

 Ginny laughed. “Seems we’re both forgetful. Will you settle for a good breakfast?”

 “Best present I’ve received all year.” 

 It shouldn’t feel so natural, Ginny thought as Harry set the table with utensils from the drying rack. She shouldn’t feel comfortable with him eating at her table. Fuck, she definitely should not want to crawl back into his arms. But there was something about Harry that was just -- magnetic. 

 They ate, chatting about nothing and yet everything. She brought up how excited she was to spend Christmas with her little nieces. Harry smiled as he told her about getting to spend the holiday with his old university mate. They talked well after their plates were clean. Ginny knew it was getting closer to the time she needed to leave, but she didn’t want to. 

 It wasn’t until they were cleaning the plates together (her washing, him drying), that time became real again.

 “What time are you leaving?” Harry asked as he placed the dry fork into the drawer she’d shown him. 

 Ginny looked at the clock. “I should have left five minutes ago.”

 “Oh.” Harry’s tone was casual, but Ginny swore she saw his shoulders drop. “I guess I should get going, then.”

 Ginny wanted to say no. She wanted to ask him to stay, which was completely ridiculous. And yet, she wanted him to be there when she returned from her parents. Ginny wanted to curl back up on that sofa and watch another film… or not watch a film. 

 She was so distracted she didn’t notice that she’d been scrubbing the same plate for entirely too long until Harry’s hand came over to stop the motion. He’d moved in close, his eyes full of concern. “Are you okay?” 

 He was so close she only needed to lean up in order to connect their lips. It would be so simple, she even started rising onto her toes before something stopped her. She pulled back, clearing her throat. “I’m fine. Just thinking about the day.” 

 Harry nodded, his cheeks turning pink. “Right.” He put the flannel down on the counter before grabbing his coat off the back of the kitchen chair. He turned back to her, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “Ginny, I -- I --” He sighed. “Enjoy your Christmas.” Then he was gone, closing the front door behind him with a gentle click. 

 Ginny put her head down on the kitchen counter, regret coursing through her entire body. Why the fuck hadn’t she at least gotten his number? She lifted her head to see it was well past the time she should have left. Sighing heavily, she went to go gather her presents. She needed to get going or face her mother’s wrath for being late. 

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Harry tried to flatten his hair for the sixth time in ten minutes. There was no reason for his nerves. He was just stopping at his mate's childhood home for a bit. Harry just wished Ron had told him about the trip to Devon. When Ron has asked him to spend the holiday with him, Harry had mistakenly assumed he'd meant at his flat. 

 "Knock it off." Ron laughed as he turned down a long dirt road. "I told you, my mum's gonna love you, despite your inability to comb your hair."

 He sent Ron a rude gesture, which just made the redhead laugh harder. The drive curved every which way, making Harry grateful he didn't get car sick. After a few minutes of winding this way and that, they pulled up in front of an old farmhouse. The foundation was off-kilter, making the rest of the building lean, but Harry loved it. It had such a homely charm between all the Wellington boots on the front porch and the chickens roaming the side garden. 

 Ron parked the car between a Land Rover and old Ford. He reached into the back seat, pulling a bag full of wrapped gifts. "Just a little something for everyone." Ron shrugged off Harry's inquisitive look. 

 They made their way through freshly shoveled paths that lead to the front door. Without knocking, Ron walked into the house calling out greetings. Harry followed behind him, looking around at all the framed photos and comfy sitting room furniture. Three men chatted while a blonde woman tended an infant.

 "Ah, you must be Harry." A pleasant voice spoke from the adjoining doorway. A balding man held out his hand. "I'm Ron's father, Arthur." 

 Harry took the offering. "Thank you for having me." 

 Arthur's smile was just as calming as his voice. "Of course! Molly and I have been excited to meet the famous Harry Potter. Let me introduce you to everyone." Arthur placed a warm hand on Harry's shoulder, guiding him through the room. "There's Bill, Fred, and George over in the chairs there." He pointed to the group of men, two of whom had identical smirks. "Fleur, who is married to Bill, and their youngest, Dominique."

 Fleur looked up from the baby and smiled at him. Arthur roved over to the doorway he'd come from, which lead to the kitchen. While the sitting room has been peaceful with a crackling fire, the kitchen was a storm of activity. 

 "And this is my lovely wife, Molly." Arthur beamed at older woman mixing some sort of batter. "Molly, Ron's friend Harry is here." Molly stopped mixing, placing the bowl down on the counter before wiping her hands on her already covered apron.

 Harry expected a handshake or maybe a pat on the shoulder as a greeting, but Molly didn't do anything in halves. She pulled Harry into a bear of a hug, making him worry about his ribs cracking. “Lovely to meet you, Harry.”

 “You too, Mrs. Weasley.” Harry choked the words out. 

 When she released him, Harry took a deep breath. “Call me Molly, dear.” She looked over her shoulder at the well-scrubbed table where two women sat. “Oh, you haven’t met Angelina and  Alicia. They’re dating the twins.” The two women gave him a welcoming grin as they continued rolling dough. “I would introduce you to our daughter, but she’s out with Vic.” Molly glanced up at the ceiling with an annoyed look, that was negated by the smile on her lips. “I asked her to help me and then like magic she was minding the little one.” 

 Like a summoning the back door opened wide, letting in a cheering little girl. “I won, Aunt Ginny.”

 “That you did, girl, that you did!” That voice. Harry’s heart jumped into his throat, he recognized that voice. Ginny walked in, her smile wide as she looked down at her niece. “But next time you won’t be so lucky.”

 Harry knew his jaw must be on the floor, but all he could do was stare. That morning all he’d wanted to do was kiss this woman, but then she’d backed away. He hadn’t wanted to push her, so he’d backed off. But fuck! She had been in his head all day. The way she seemed to heat his entire body with just one look, and how perfect it had felt when her head rested on his shoulder. Harry regretted it the moment he’d walked out her front door, he’d even considered turning around but there had been a voice in his head saying maybe it was just one-sided. That maybe she’d had pulled away from him because she didn’t want to give him false hope. 

 But when their eyes met in that kitchen, Harry could feel it again. That raw heat, mixed in with shock. Ginny’s mouth fell open. “You!”

 “Ginny!” Molly scolded. “That’s no way to greet someone.” 

 Ginny turned towards her mother, blinking rapidly. After a moment she took a deep breath. “You’re right, Mum.” When her focus came back to Harry, he swore his heart skipped a beat. “So, which one of my brothers is your old uni mate?”

 “Ron.” Harry was shocked that words were able to get past his tied tongue. “I -- uh --” He was very aware that everyone in the kitchen was watching them: Arthur and Molly with confused smiles, Angelina and Alicia with grins that were more impishly amused. 

 Ginny seemed to notice the eyes on them as well because she pointed a thumb over her shoulder towards the back door. “Care for a tour around the garden?”

 XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

 Ginny couldn’t stop glancing over at the man walking beside her. The entire drive over she’d cursed herself for letting him leave that morning, and now he was at her parents’? She didn’t believe in the idea of fate or destiny, but the moment she’d looked into his gorgeous eyes… Ginny started re-thinking her theory. 

 "So --" Harry cleared his throat. "Don't have your bat on you, right? Because I know how you respond when someone arrives unannounced."

 "What?" Ginny had to reel her mind back to the present. "Oh, right! Well, I always happen to keep a spare in the boot of my car.” She stopped in the middle of the cleared path and pulled Harry to halt by the hand. When his eyes locked onto hers, warmth spread throughout her body like wildfire. She sent him what she hoped was a coy smile. “But if you’re telling me I may need it." 

 Harry tugged her back as she pretended to head towards her car. His pull was more powerful than she’d expected and Ginny fell right into his chest. Harry pulled back, his cheeks red from more than just the cold. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to -- I, uh --” 

 Ginny couldn’t take it anymore. What was the point of avoiding -- whatever this was between them? Her mind drifted back the film they’d watch the previous night. “So is this the moment I casually mention I wanna marry you, have loads of sex, and have your babies?” 

 If Ginny had thought his cheeks were red before, Harry put a tomato to shame at that moment. His mouth fell open as he stared at her. She could see the wheels turning behind his eyes, his memory placing the line. He closed his mouth, a hesitant smile crossing his lips. “How about we start with the second thing on your list and make our way from there?”

 “I think...” Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck, bring him to her eye level. “I can live with that.” She pressed her lips to his. It didn’t take long for Harry to respond. His fingers pressed into her hips with a tantalizing pressure. With his body pressed tightly to hers and his scent (that addicting woodsy smell) filling her lungs, everything else seemed to disappear but him. 

 “Ginny? Oh!” Molly’s voice was the first thing to break through the fog Harry had created. Ginny pulled away to see her mother standing by the back door. In retrospect, she and Harry should have gotten out of sight of the house, but she just hadn’t been able to control herself. 

 Molly gave them what was supposed to be a sheepish grin, but instead her entire face glowed with delight. “I’m so sorry. I just wanted to know where she left my pie pan, but I’ll just go rummage through the cupboards. Just pretend I was never here.” And just like that, Molly was back in the house. 

 Ginny snorted. Her mum had never been one to see her children in their relationships. She’d expected to be told to get inside and get to work, but instead, her mother had --

 Harry blinked at her, his brow cutely creased in confusion.“What’s so funny?” 

 “My mum just encouraged me to keep snogging you.” Ginny shook her head, unable to hold back her amusement. “She once made Ron stop holding his girlfriend’s hand.” Her eyebrows creased. “But to be fair that girl was crazy, and everyone knew it. I guessing mum just didn’t like her.” 

 “Oh.” Harry’s confusion cleared, slowly replaced with a bashful smile. “But you think she likes me?” 

 Ginny leaned up to kiss him again. “I know I do.” She reluctantly pulled out of his arms. “Hey, you’re staying for supper, right? Would you like to stay for supper?”

 “Would you like to stay forever?!” 

 Ginny turned to the sound of her mother’s voice. Molly was hanging out the kitchen window watching the scene like an enthusiastic film watcher. All that was missing was the popcorn. “Mum!” Ginny yelled across the yard. “What are you doing?”

 “I said to pretend I wasn’t there, not that I wouldn’t be there.” Molly’s mischievous smirk was clear even from a distance. “What do you say, Harry dear?”

 “I --” Ginny turned back to Harry who was shaking, from what could only be silent laughter. “Oh, don’t encourage her,” she complained. 

 Harry laughed out loud this time. He pulled her back into his warmth, his mouth inches from hers. “And what will you do to stop me?”

 “Ah!” Ginny moved her fingers up to play with the little hairs at the base of his neck. “My bat isn’t my only method of persuasion.” Harry’s breath hitched as she ran her nose along his jaw. Just as her lips hovered over his, she stepped away. “But it is one of my favorites.” She turned and started towards her car. 

 Looking over her shoulder, Ginny laughed at the dumbfounded look on Harry’s face. Then he shut his gaping mouth and began chasing after her. As he caught her around the middle, his nose pressed into her neck. She spun in his arms and his mouth pressed to hers in a scorching kiss. Ginny had never been happier to have someone break in through her window. 

 She pulled back, nuzzling her nose to his. “I’ve got to say, Harry. You’re the most satisfying burglar I’ve ever had.”

 Harry snorted, “Just wait until I steal your heart.” When he brought his lips back to hers, she had to admit he was off to a good start.

[ask-de-writer]

FRIEND AND THE IMPERIAL EGGS : Part 3 of 7 : MLP Fan Fiction

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FRIEND AND THE IMPERIAL EGGS

A Daring Do tale

Part 3 of 7

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)  

8927 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck Writing begun 05/13/16

All rights reserved.  This document may not be copied or distributed on or to any medium or placed in any mass storage system except by the express written consent of the author.

This is a Fan Fiction based on My Little Pony.  Canterlot, Princess Luna and the name Daring Do are owned by Hasboro Inc.

//////////////

Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may reblog the story.  They may use the characters or original characters in my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical compositions, provided that such things are done without charge.  I will allow those who do commission art works to charge for their images.  

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fictions is actively encouraged.

///////////////////////

Moreegg entered the Baron’s study in the morning.  There were many signs of the Baron having worked on the collection.  As he began to tidy up, he found the Baron’s cold tea only half drunk.  It was sitting out on a recent newspaper, opened to the celebripony gossip.

The teacup was weighing down a note:

Moreegg:   Take good care of the Barony in my absence. I have had a brilliant idea that can expand the collection with some of the rarest eggs ever. I must do this alone, Yoksonu, Baron.

As the mystified Moreegg was straightening the side table, he noticed an item in the Celebripony Gossip.

“The Gryphon Empire takes great pride in announcing that an Imperial Clutch is soon to be expected.  In spite of the difficulties caused by the recent civil war, a trustworthy clutch-tender has been found to care for the Imperial Eggs.”

Moreegg gazed sadly at the empty Gryphon egg case and said softly, “Please, dear Celestia, not that.”

////////////

The firing range that had been set up in the Hospital Aerie’s lowest level reverberated to the rapid roar of Daring Do’s beloved Spiderly 13 mm!  The powerful buck of the gun in hoof with each round and the smell of powder added to the delightful experience!

“Three bullseyes, the other two within three mm!” exclaimed nurse Grayyk.  “It is wonderful how you can maintain such accuracy with recoil like that!”  She held the retrieved target up for Daring Do to examine.

Eyes sparkling, Daring Do pointed to another target.  The holes in it were not as tightly clustered.  “For a so called novice shooter, you are doing really well!  That little 8 mm is just perfect for your claws!”

Nurse Grayyk was writing the tallies and times into Daring Do’s chart.  She looked up, clipping the pen back to the chart.  Her crest set to show how pleased she was, she answered, “If a student does well, it is a reflection on the quality of the teacher.  I have the best!

“Now to the pool.  I was told by Friend not to let you try laps yet. It may help you to know that the Hellbore poison did a lot of damage to your connective tissues at the joints.  You need gentle, low resistance exercise for best recovery.  She is very concerned that you recover the best, rather than fastest.”

Daring Do nodded, faking glumness.  Actually, as the warm waters closed about her, she relaxed, and began the enjoyable slow exercises that Friend wanted her to do.

////////////

Baron Yoksonu leaned back in the working chair.  “You understand how I want this done?”

“Yes, Sir.  Our field may be small but we are well known for the quality of our makeups and prosthesis.  You want a quality makeup that will be durable for up to a week.  Over it, you want a second, basically a mask of your present self.  One that will be easily penetrated.”

Shaking her head, the orange mare began applying careful layers of latex like material.  “It must be an elaborate practical joke that you are pulling.”

The Baron, considerately trying not to move, agreed, “It is indeed.  It should be quite the jest when it is done.”

Hidden within his wallet lay a simple seeming card.  It had been MUCH harder to obtain and far more expensive than the make up work, and that was not cheap.  The card was an Equestrian Railroad Security Inspector’s card.  

The picture on the card was what was being applied to him now, as the quality makeup basic disguise.

////////////

Friend was happily playing with the Eaglets, preening them and cuddling.  She was feeding them dangled strips of meat now.  They were developing exactly as her Eagle nymphs should.

She was surrounded by that delicate glow of magic that guided and protected her precious eggs and the nymphs that hatched from them.  None of these, Eagle or Gryphon, would ever become a changeling, so, she reflected, they were nymphs.

She also considered, far down in a mind more clever and devious than any who knew her but perhaps Matunen, all that she had learned of Gryphon and Pony politics and schemes as she had consumed her prey.  Those evil, plotting Gryphons had their share to contribute to her thoughts.

Found in both Grata’s mind and that of Matunen, was the detestable Baron Yoksonu and his collection.  Several of the eggs in his collection had been gathered from creatures of intelligence and wisdom.  Because of that, even Doctor Do, her Matunen, detested the Baron.  Matunen did recognize the scientific value of the collection and that had to be respected.

While serenely preening and feeding the next sweet little Eaglet, she smiled to herself.  Grata had gone along with announcing the new Imperial Clutch in Celebripony News.

Just this morning, a far flying Eagle had returned her the news.  The Baron, barely home a day, had disappeared.  All was proceeding as it should.

////////////

Grata was sharing a nest with her Empress and the Right Wing of the Throne. Their chosen consort had done his part a week ago and it was time. Soon they would produce the Imperial Eggs.  

The Empress raised her crest in frankness, “Grata, I cannot help but be worried about announcing our clutch in the Celebripony News.  This should be a State Secret.  Why is it not?”

Grata replied, “Friend, who will be tending our eggs for us, asked me to do it.  She said that it might help to uncover any remaining First Creationists and other undesirable sorts.”

Hisst, the Right Wing of the Imperial Throne, raised her crest in question, “What she is doing won’t put our eggs at risk, will it?  I mean, her magic seems so, so gossamer thin.”

Grata, crest rippling with amusement, replied, “Our eggs will be perfectly safe. Remember what happened to the traitor Arrokk, who tried to fly through it?  The staff only needed broom and mop to clean him up.  There was no shred of him big enough to pick up by claw.  The other seven that Friend gathered up and dumped at the foot of the Throne at that same time? None could resist that gossamer.

“Friend can be soft, gentle and loving.  Under that gentleness is toughness like I have never seen.  She thrives best, not by taking love, but by sharing it.  And love is the wrong word for it.  There just is not any other.  It is a subtle and very complex magic.

“Using that magic to guide the development of chicks in the egg is only one example of it in action.  The destruction of the traitor Arrokk while in flight is a different aspect of it. Doctor Do’s healing is another.  Our very existence as a species is yet another.  All of those things, together with her feelings, is what she means by loving the eggs.”

The Empress finally entered the conversation, crest raised in question, “I have been most carefully reading all of the reports on Doctor Do’s condition.  There are actually more reports on what the doctors have observed about Friend.

“They have never found her to be asleep as we understand the term.  Is that true?”

Grata, crest spread in honesty, replied, “That is true.  Friend does rest but she is always ready for instant action, if needed.”

The Empress nodded, holding her breath and pushing.  “There.  I do believe that is the last of our clutch.

“Let us take the eggs down to Friend.  I want to meet her up close and see her reaction.”

////////////

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[hjonkin]

Treatment

Summary: Being a doctor certainly has its perks, but meeting a charming veteran as a patient’s party isn’t one that’s too common. As Bucky gets to know this world-renowned psychologist, he starts to realize that maybe being in this century isn’t all that bad. 

Words: 5,250

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Doctor!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, adult themes and inuendos, fluff

I do not own anything in that of relation to the MCU, and this writing is for entertainment purposes only. Please respect this original work and do not republish unless given written permission from me, the author.  

I carefully pressed the small metal earring into my lobe, fumbling as I slipped a small rubber back onto it to keep it in place. Once secure, I examined myself in the mirror. My stomach fluttered as I spun a bit, trying to take it in. A dark maroon dress held my figure, fanning out into a panel skirt that stopped at my knees. The sleeves were long, resting snuggly onto my wrists, the neckline dipped just enough, not showing anything off. I attempted to be a modest woman, whether or not I was going to a party. Black wedges gave me about an extra inch of height, complementing my night attire. My (hair color) hair was pulled back into a tendril twisted bun, resting at the base of my head. The earrings I had pressed in were silver and small, as not to tire my lobes. 

I grabbed a small glass bottle from my veranda, spraying a small amount of light perfume on my collar bone before taking a deep breath, taking in the scent. My head was spinning a bit at everything going on, feeling an overwhelming amount of anxiety sitting in my stomach.

It was very kind of Mr. Stark to invite me to his birthday party in the first place, but that didn’t keep me from being nervous. I closed my eyes, taking a few deep breaths. How ironic for a psychologist to be anxious. I was well known for my counseling and studies, yet here I was - a shaking, anxious mess. I was irreconcilable.

 After a few deep breaths, I regrounded myself. I had nothing to be afraid of. I would recognize a few faces, even if I didn’t know them personally, and Tony trusted me enough to come even if we were in a professional relationship. I stood up straight, turned on my heel, and walked out of the bedroom after flicking off the light. 

I grabbed my cell phone, slipping it into my black purse along with my wallet. A car was already on its way to pick me up. I wasn’t sure what to expect with the party, so if there, for any reason I need to get a ride, I’d rather not leave my car. I had had one too many accidents in that regard. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I sat down on my couch to wait. 

Glancing at the time on the clock in my living room, I noted it was 20 minutes to 7:00 PM. Sure, I wasn’t far from Mr. Stark’s house, but being punctuate was something I stood by. If I had not chosen to take a car earlier, I would have already been at the billionaire’s house on my own. I tapped my fingers against my leg, sighing gently as I focused on relaxing. 

The apartment I sat it was quiet, being lonely at times with no one else living here. It was often silent besides the sounds of my activities or music I put on to fill that void. True, I would love to one day wake up with someone I cared about living with me, but that just hasn’t happened yet. 

It was the quiet chime of my phone that snapped me from my thoughts. I pulled out the device, glancing at it. A message from the driver, letting me know he was at the house for me. I quickly shut off the light, grabbed the small gift bag waiting by the door, stepped outside, and locked the door behind me before walking over and nodding to the driver through the window. 

I got in the backseat, not wanting to be rude by sitting up front. The man tried to glance at me through his mirror. Even though it was dark, I could see the greeting smile on his lips. “Hello! You are (Name)?” he asked. I nodded, replying with a yes. “That’s me. Thank you so much for driving me tonight,” I said, crossing my legs after buckling in. “It is no problem!” he exclaimed, clicking the car into drive and heading down the street to take me to the mansion a few minutes away. 

I was quiet, glancing out the window. I couldn’t help but think of Tony and his assistant, Pepper. They were both decently kind, although Pepper was more than Tony. He was the sarcastic type. I had actually met the billionaire through his assistant while she was at the hospital. She was trying to find a good psychologist to help him after the Battle of New York. The only issue was Tony wasn’t the type to go to appointments. But I guess I’ve never really been your usual doctor. I made time in my schedule to find Tony and sit down with him, whether that be over some food, his house with Pepper, or over the phone. True, it was a bit risky, but I didn’t have him labeled as a patient in my clinic. Yes, I treated him as one, but some laws are tricker than others.  I was slowly helping him heal his traumatized mind. We had become as friendly as a doctor with her patient could - we consider each other decent friends, and other than that we stayed very professional. While it wasn’t a complete shock that Tony had requested my presence at this party of his, I still had that lingering tug in my mind that perhaps I was taking it too far. I had messaged an attorney on the matter but had yet to hear back from him. I suppose now it is too late. 

The driver stayed silent as well, seeming to notice that I was lost in my own little world. I appreciated that. Only once did he speak, and that was to offer me water, but I declined politely. I enjoyed his company. He seemed that he would speak to me if I wanted and we could have a pleasant conversation but would be quiet if I didn’t wish it. 

It was a few minutes before we pulled into the large parking area of Tony’s mansion, to which I unbuckled and pulled out a $10 from my purse, handing it to the driver. “Thank you for your service tonight,” I said with gratitude. He insisted I needn’t tip him, but I insisted before climbing out of the car, bidding him a good, safe night and closing the door behind me. 

Looking up at the mansion, I felt a sudden chill drag up my spine. I looked around. Others were walking in, but it felt like someone’s eyes were staring into me. I rubbed my eyes, walking up the concrete pathway to the door, were two bouncers stood. I pulled out my I.D. and handed it to the one with brown hair. “Dr. (First Name) (Last Name),” I said softly. The man didn’t even confirm with his colleague before letting me in with a bit of a smile and a welcome. I took my I.D. back with a thank you and stepped inside. The feeling of eyes on me melted away quickly. 

It wasn’t nearly as crowded as I expected it to be. The party was all on one level from the looks of things, and there while there was a crowd, I expected it to look like a boy’s college party in the movies. That’s the type of guy Tony was. It eased my anxiety to see that wouldn’t be the case tonight. 

Walking over to the bar, I slid my black purse over my shoulder. A beautiful woman was standing there, wiping down the counter. Seeing me, she stops and walks over, flashing me a smile. “May I help you?” she asked. I nodded, motioning to my bag. “Is there a place I may leave this? Preferably out of prying eyes,” I added, smiling back. She really was quite pretty, with hair as red as my dress, and lips to match. She nodded, offering her hand. “I’ll place it back here. No one else will be behind the counter,” she promised me. I nodded and handed her the purse, before walking off after she left to put it away. 

I recognized a few people who chatted in the room. Tony wasn’t here, but my mind figured he must be doing something to make the party worthwhile. Pepper was chatting with a few guests, all of which stood by the piano. I was able to pick those Tony had mentioned in our meetings, as he had shown me a few photos but none of which I recognized personally. I stepped past the couch, were, from what I could see, Tony’s friend Rhody was telling a story to a small group of friends. It did not hold my interest, and I figured that it would be rude of me to just sit down and join the conversation. 

After placing the gift I had brought for Tony on a table where others were sitting, I found myself reseating myself at the bar where the pretty redheaded woman worked. She walked over, resting her elbows on the countertop as she studied me. “Not feeling the party spirit tonight?” she asked. I shrugged. “I just struggle to socialize with people I don’t know,” I said bluntly. She nodded. “Well, you’ll only know people you socialize with,” she said, pouring me a glass of ice water. I took it with a smile and a nod, to thank her.

I had taken a few sips when a gentle voice spoke up behind me. “I didn’t expect to see you here, Dr. (Last Name).” I turned, then blinked in surprise. Standing in a dark gray button-down and dark slacks was Dr. Bruce Banner. I stood, smiling as he held out his hand, taking mine gently. We shook, and I chuckled. “Dr. Banner, the pleasure is mine,” I said, looking him over. “You haven’t changed a bit,” I remarked. “Yeah, well you’re looking quite nice yourself,” he commented. 

I asked him to sit with me, and he obliged. He glanced up, then grinned at the redhead. “Hey Nat,” he said softly as she poured him a golden drink. She looked up, and the light caught her just right that I could see the faded color of green her eyes held. It only made her appear more pretty in my mind. I smiled a bit, taking another sip of the cold water she had given me. After Bruce followed my lead with his own drink, the woman motioned back and forth between us. “So, you two know each other?” She prompted. 

We nodded as I opened my mouth to explain. “Dr. Banner was kind enough to do a panel at a medical conference in Romania a few years back. I met him as I was a speaker as well, and wanted to congratulate him on his performance,” I told her. “You did a presentation on how anger can affect the mental health, if I remember right,” Banner mentioned, looking away. True, I had, but that wasn’t any poke at him. It was just an interesting study during my time. I shook my head with a quiet chuckle. “And yours was that on humanitarian services,” I reminded him, tucking away a strand of stray hair. He nods before glancing at the woman. They seemed to have a silent conversation with each other before the music picked up, and the people behind us started to whistle and call out. I turned, looking over my shoulder. 

Tony had walked in, a glass of brandy in one hand, waving with his other. His hair was a bit messy, and he wore a black button-down, hidden under a tie and vest of the same color. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and he cleared his throat to get attention. I turned fully to face him to hear as I picked up this note. 

“I just wanted to thank you all, for getting up, off your sorry asses and coming to my house tonight,” he said, before throwing back what was left in his glass. Everyone, myself included, laughed. After the drink, he nods again, motioning around the room. “Now go talk to each other, I expect someone to hook up while they’re here!” he laughed. I shook my head, covering my eyes with a grin. Typical Tony. 

Standing, I excused myself from Bruce and the woman at the bar and made my way over to the host of the party. He glanced at me, then turned, crossing his arms. “Dr. (First Name) (Last Name). You actually showed up,” he sarcastically. I rolled my eyes, holding out a hand. “Happy birthday, Tony,” I said, gentle, yet sharp and to the point. He stared at me, a bit of disbelief in his eyes. But he relaxed, taking my hand and shaking it. A small smile found his lips. “Glad to see you, Doc.” His words were quiet, meant only for me to hear. I was alright with that fact. I smiled at him, squeezing his hand before letting go. “Same to you, Tony,” I told him. 

I went to open my mouth to say something when a blond man came up, clapping Tony on the back. He was quite a bit taller than Stark and well built. He was clean-shaven, and stood upright and strong, like an oak tree. He seemed to be as thick as one too. “Happy birthday, Tony,” he said. He had the type of voice that would never seem to surprise you for it to leave his mouth. Not deep, but not as high as the voice of a middle schooler would be. It fit him well. Tony looked at him, then to me. I raised an eyebrow, waiting for the sarcastic comment that would follow. But instead, Tony motioned to me. “Cap, this is Dr. (Last Name),” he said, introducing us. I held in the surprise as I held my hand to shake. “Pleasure is mine,” I claimed, smiling as charmingly as I could. He looked me over, before smiling kindly and shaking my hand. His grip was firm, dominant. While his skin was soft and kempt, his hands where rough. The kind you’d feel from someone who worked hard labor for a few years. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am,” he said. I chuckled, lowering my hand, and turning back to Anthony. “I’ll let you socialize,” I told him, before turning on my heel to try and speak to some others. Tony called from behind “I’ll do what I want, Doc!” earning a small laugh from me. 

After making some distance between me and the birthday boy, I looked around, trying to plan my next moves. Most people were moving in closer to give birthday wishes to Tony, so I had time to myself for just the moment. Even the normally shy Banner was waiting awkwardly nearby to give his wishes as well. 

I walked over to the window, which took up the entire wall of this floor. I rolled my eyes over the ocean, that lapped lazily in the evening sky. Tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear, I sighed softly before someone took their place beside me. “You’re Dr. (Last name), then?” 

I turned to look at the figured beside me. It was Steve Rogers, or as Tony had called him earlier, “Cap.” Another face I had recognized from my meetings with the inventor. I nodded, folding my hands neatly. “Yes, that’s me,” I said with a weak laugh. I cocked my head as I looked him over, but he didn’t meet my eye. He only watched the water as I had done. “You know of me, I’m guessing?” I asked. He nodded, dropping his gaze to the floor. “He has mentioned you a bit,” he explained. I nodded, not surprised. While it was my duty to not tell anyone, not even Pepper what he said to me, I wasn’t surprised to find that Tony himself talked of our meetings to those around him. That was his choice and right, not mine. 

Steve looked over to me, smiling a bit at the corners of his mouth. I returned the favor. He sighed, looking out at the water again. “I just wanted to thank you,” he said softly. I frowned a bit, not expecting the words from him. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand,” I told him. He was quiet for a bit, his hands hiding in his pockets. 

“Tony is a good friend of mine, I believe. After what happened to him during the Battle of New York, he has been in a tough spot. You’ve helped him a lot,” he said, eyes avoiding me. My heart dropped, unsure of where to go or what to do as he continued. “I have a friend that has been traumatized, maybe even worse than Tony,” Steve’s voice quivered, but only for a second. Just enough for someone of my trade to pick up on. “I already grieve for him, and I don't want to do that for Tony. You have done something not a lot of people can do. You helped him heal,” his eyes were on me, and I took a quiet breath. In my mind, this meant the world to me in ways words couldn’t explain. But I didn’t want to lose my head. I only smiled, looking down. “You flatter me, Mr. Rogers. But a lot of his healing was on his own, too. I only am an ear, he did a lot of the work on his own,” I reminded him, remaining as humble as I could. He smirked, shaking his head as he looked over at the birthday boy. “Can’t see him doing that, but I’ll take your word for it,” he said. I laughed a bit, nodding. 

“Would you excuse me for a moment? I have something to give you,” I said after a moment. He nodded, and I walked over to Nat, or so she’s been called, at the bar. “I’m sorry for the bother, but may I see my bag? I need something from it,” I explained. She nodded, walking off before returning quickly with the black purse. 

I opened it up and dug around inside, finding what I needed. She smiled at me as she took the purse to hide it again, and I made my way back to where Steve waited, my shoes clicking softly against the slick floor. I stuck out the object, a small smile on my face. 

“Will you be kind enough to give this to your friend? If he is open to it, I would love to have a chat with him,” I explained as I handed him my business card. I hated the small plug, but I was always open to new patients and helping those who needed it. Steven took it, looking it over before slipping it into his pocket. “I’ll do that,” he confirmed. 

With that, I excused myself, trying to think of what to do next. I didn’t want to get trashed, but I didn’t want to become bored as well. ‘A drink or two wouldn’t hurt,’ I thought, making my way over to the bar. I sat down, the woman gone. I didn’t mind it, because it kept me from drinking in the first place. 

Most people were chatting again. Laughter and stories were exchanged between others, and I observed quietly. I ignored the feeling of eyes on me once again. 

Standing, I headed out to the hallway. It instantly was quieter, the music that had now kicked on becoming audibly blurry the farther from the main room I walked. I was the only person in this area, and I felt myself breathing a bit better. 

I cursed at myself as after a bit of wandering, I found myself standing out on the balcony in the night time air. It was a bit humid, and the night air was warm, a small breeze pulling at my hair. Leaning against the ledge, I glanced down at the ocean water that splashed against the cliff. If I focused past the muffled music that was playing inside, I could hear the water moving. I closed my eyes, sighing softly. It felt good to recharge, to breathe for just a moment. 

I’m not sure how long I was in my own mind before a voice yanked me out of my wandering mind. 

“Shouldn’t a nice girl like yourself be inside partying?” the voice was soft, speaking with a bit of husk. I jumped, turning towards the voice. A man was standing a few yards away, hands in his pockets. The top of his hair was pulled up into a bun, the rest resting cleanly near his shoulders. He had scruff on his jaw, looking like it was recently cleaned up. His suit was simple, no tie and a white button-down with a black v necked jacket. A small smirk danced on his lips as he watched me. 

I couldn’t help but find his smile contagious. My lips turned up, shaking my head as I looked back down. “Just needed some air,” I told him. He takes a few steps closer, his right hand finding the ledge of the balcony. “Not a big party person?” he asked, his voice softer now that he was closer. 

I shrugged, looking over at him. “Not a big stranger person, I think,” I said, a hint of uncertainty at my own answer. The answer made me want to grind my teeth. A doctor who isn’t a stranger person, how ironic. He chuckles, however, nodding in understanding. We sat in silence for a bit, just listening to the water underneath us. Pop music played, and shadows from the main room showed some people dancings, some just standing around and talking. Every once and a while the crowd inside would cheer, but still, the two of us just sat in comfortable silence. 

I stood straight up, stretching my neck a bit as I did. I turned to the stranger, smiling softly. He was easy to be around, even though I didn't know him. The warm arm was relaxed in his presence. 

“Thank you for the company, but I best head inside now.” I pat down my dress skirt a bit, smoothing out the deep red skirt. The man nodded, looking towards the door that would lead back inside. A familiar song played, slower, but still upbeat and popular. 

The man glanced back at me, his eyes sharp as they found mine. “Perhaps, you wouldn’t mind a dance first?” he asked quietly. 

I stopped looking back at him. My heart dropped a bit, surprised at the request. I hesitated but turned back to face him as a smile broke out on my face. I nodded, rubbing my arm. “I’d like that,” I said, a small huff of a laugh escaping my lips.  

He held out his hand, and my own found his. His other hand fell from his pocket, gloved in black, gently placing it on my waist. My left hand found his shoulder, giggling softly at our positioning. I listened to the song that played, slowly swaying with him as the tempo that held a steady beat. I sighed, taking note of the stranger’s scent. He wore a light cologne, one that I could tell he wore often, as there was a musky scent to it as if it was older. It was hard to place. 

I glanced up at him, taking in the sight before me a bit more. His hair was a dark shade of brown, like soil fresh with rainwater. His eyes were hard to describe. I tried to find the color, but it wasn’t one I could place. They appeared blue, but also green, and grey all at once. He had a few lines in his face that showed either stress or age. He wasn’t much taller than I was, our faces almost level. 

His eyebrows knit together as he notices me staring. “Is something the matter?” he asked, slowing our pace in our dance. I shook my head with a smile. “No, just observing. I don’t think I recognize you, yet you seem familiar,” I explained, shrugging with a soft chuckle. He cocks his head, a small huff leaving the lips that curled into a small smirk. “What are you observing?” he prompted. We had nearly stopped dancing, merely swaying on our heels slowly. “You,” I wasn’t afraid to answer, my eyes staying locked with his. “You haven’t even told me your name yet,” I told him, raising an eyebrow. He laughs again, and I follow suit, feeling his contagious, relaxed aura. 

He looks me over, spinning me a bit while the music changes to a bit slower of a tempo. “You first,” he said playfully, pulling me back into his chest. I rolled my eyes but answered. “(First Name) (Last Name).” I looked to his gloved hand before looking back to the stranger, my eyebrow raising again for an answer to his name. He slowed down so we were no longer dancing. “Bucky Barnes,” he introduced. I nodded, tucking away a stray hair of my own behind my ear. “Its a pleasure,” I told him. He shook his head, his smile returning. “It’s mine, Doll,” he said. His eyes flicked behind me to where the party played out. It was growing quieter, and it hit me. How long had I been out here? 

I shivered a bit and rubbed my arms as I looked to him. “It really was a pleasure, Bucky, but I think it may be time to take my leave,” I said apologetically. He nodded, offering his arm to me. I chuckled, looping my arm through and following him through a set of doors and down a quiet hallway. We could still hear the party, but it was faint. We were quiet as we walked, the only sound being our steps echoing in the corridors we floated through. It didn’t take long to find the front doors. I went to thank him but gasped. 

“Shit, I left my purse inside,” I glanced down at myself, my cheeks growing warm. He chuckled, leading me inside just behind the doors. “Wait here, I can go grab it for you. Where did you leave it?” he asked. I bit my lip. “At the bar with the waitress,” I told him. “It’s alright, Mr. Barnes, I can go grab it,” I said, grabbing his jacket sleeve. He shook his head, saying nothing as he turned on his heel and walked off. I frowned, following his steps. “Really? That’s it?” I asked, feeling my heart tug. He stops, looking down at me in confusion. “What?’’ 

“You are just gonna walk off like that?” I asked, in disbelief. He raised an eyebrow, looking down the hall, then back at me. “If you really don’t want me to get your purse for you I won’t,” he said softly. My face flushed in warmth. My mouth was agape, not expecting that answer. 

He motioned towards the party, which had grown louder with us walking near. “You can grab it if you really want, Doll. I was just trying to be nice.” and with that, he turned on his heel, intending to walk off. Before I could think, my hand was on his arm again. 

“No, Bucky, that isn’t...I’m sorry, that wasn’t it,” I said rashly, pursing my lips. He turned, looking me over, his eyes asking for an explanation. 

“I...thought you were just walking off. You had come off as rude, and I wasn’t going to stand to it. But I was in the wrong. Your gesture is very kind, thank you. But I am so sorry for the assumption.” My eyes fell to the floor, my hand letting him go as I spoke. I flinched when, after a moment of silence, he walked away. 

Great job, (Last name). You’re really batting a thousand today. 

I rubbed my face, sighing. I really nailed that one. He was cute, too. That couldn’t have gone any worse, really. 

I was about to just grab my things and go when footsteps came towards me. I looked up, and suddenly my blood ran cold in the sudden surprise. Bucky walked over, holding out my black back. “No hard feelings?’ he asked softly. 

I stared at it for a split second, before taking it and slinging it over my shoulder, eyes darting up to his face. I smiled softly. “None at all,” I confirmed. 

“You know, I don’t really know how things work in this day and age,” he started. I snorted a bit, trying to hold in a laugh as I nodded at him to continue his thought. He looked me over, biting his lip a bit. My heart dropped in my stomach as my breathing fluttered, my head heavy at the sight. I tried to brush it off as I listened to his words. 

“A while back,’’ he started carefully,  “you’d have to arrive on a girl’s doorstep with flowers and ask her daddy’s permission to take her out for the night and have her home just after dusk. I don't think that is the case anymore,” he laughed, closing his eyes at the thought and memory. I grinned, liking the where his words were taking us. 

“So I guess what I’m trying to say is...if I can ask to take you out one of these nights?” he asked, opening his eyes with a shy look. I played with my fingers, looking down, but I nodded with a wide smile. I looked back up at him, nodding again. “I would like that, Mr. Barnes,” I told him. He grinned, stuffing his hands in his pockets as we went quiet. I pulled out my phone, opening it and handing it to him. The keypad waited for a phone number to be entered. Taking it, Bucky stared at the device for a moment before glancing at me, then back at the phone and slowly typing in his number, a small muttered “okay,” as he did. 

After saving the contact, I let my driver know to pick me up. I slipped my phone back into my bag, taking a deep breath. I adjusted my hair but stood up straight as Bucky followed my lead. I walked to the front doors with him in tow, before turning to him. “Thank you for the dance,” I said. He nodded, then reached out and grabbed my hand, slowly bringing it to his lips.  “Thank you for your attention,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. After a small kiss was left on the back of my hand, he stepped back to give me space. My cheeks were flushed, blinking in surprise. I couldn’t contain the childish smile on my face. 

I opened my mouth to speak, but my phone went off, my driver trying to tell me he was here. I pulled out my family, then sighed and looked at him. “I supposed you’ll be hearing from me soon, Mr. Barnes,” I told him. He shook his head, smiling. “Just Bucky,” he asked. I nodded. “Bucky,” I repeated. Then, with a shy wave, I stepped outside, climbing in the car. Glancing over at the door again, he was watching me, the same goofy smile on his expression. I waved again, closing the car door and relaxing against the seat. Maybe tonight wasn’t so bad after all. 

[intothestarkerverse]

The Time of Our Lives (Part Two)

Based on a prompt from @geekymarvel 

Peter is tasked with an important mission that requires him to go back in time.   Finding himself at a gala for Stark industries in the 1990's, he comes face to face with a young and incorrigible Tony Stark who considers Peter's attempts to deny his advances a challenge.  Now, dogged by a horny young CEO who won't take no for an answer, Peter's task has become much more difficult....

(STORY CONTAINS ENDGAME SPOILERS)

Read on AO3

Be careful what you wish for.  It was a cliched adage that old people were always quoting as if they were the first ones to think of such a priceless nugget of wisdom.  Never before in Peter’s life had he been granted such an acute understanding of just how wise it was.

How many times in the last several years had he wished for something just like this?  He’d pined for Tony Stark from the solitude of his own bedroom since his very early teens when his hero worship for Iron Man had been swallowed by a budding sexuality it had taken him years to completely accept and understand.

Just once he had wished and hoped and dreamed that Mr. Stark would see him as something other than a child, but he also knew how ridiculous that desire was.  He was a stupid kid who could barely talk to the man without stumbling over his words.  He made huge, dangerous blunders.  Mr. Stark was never going to feel about Peter the way Peter felt about him and he had accepted the one-sided nature of his love for the man a long, long time ago.

And now…Tony’s words were burned across his brain.  He could hear his voice echoing those not-so-innocent terms of endearment.  His skin felt hot where Tony had touched him as if imprints of his hands were scorched onto the skin.  More than anything in the world, Peter wanted to turn around and indulge in whatever filthy things he knew this younger version of his mentor probably had in mind.  He wanted to bask in the knowledge that his attraction to Tony Stark was, in fact, not one-sided at all.  In another world, another time, Tony could have been all his…and that realization was as tempting as it was terrifying.

Sometimes being a responsible super-hero really fucking sucked.

Or…didn’t suck…that was really the problem.

What might have been was literally going to haunt him for the rest of his life, and all Peter Parker could do was accept it and attempt to fulfill his mission.  If he’d known that this was the ‘great responsibility’ Ben had been talking about, he might have taken a hard pass.  A very hard pass.  

The mission.  

He needed to focus on the mission, not his own dangerously neglected libido.

The incinerator.

He needed to find the incinerator.

Probably in the basement with some kind of exhaust on the roof.  His best bet at this point was just to dive down a hatch like in A New Hope and try to make  the best of it, but finding a hatch to dive down wasn’t going to be easy.  Security wasn’t as tight as it should be on the upper floors, everything seemed to be confined to the lower levels where the guests were…at least, that’s what Mr. Stark had implied in the dream.  If Peter could swipe a security badge and get upstairs without being seen, at least half the battle would be won.  

“Excuse me, could you tell me where the security office is?”  Peter put on his most innocent and boyish smile as he looked up hopefully at the security guard stationed by the wall where he was attempting to be at one with the artwork and plants on the edge of the foyer.  He looked oddly familiar, but Peter couldn’t quite place why.  He was very thin, very young, and not very experienced in his job if his body language was any indication.  The somewhat familiar guard’s gaze shifted from the room to the boy in front of him and he frowned.  

“Why do you need to know that, kid?”

“Always asking the important questions, a trait I like in my personal security.  What’s your name again?”  An unwelcome voice sounded from behind Peter.

“Hogan, Sir.”

Woah, Happy!  His initial surprise over the guard’s identity was eclipsed as Peter felt the fine hairs at the nape of his neck stand on end at the unexpected and unwelcome sound of Tony Stark’s voice.  What good was a Spidey Sense if it didn’t tell you that someone was sneaking up on you?  Except that the only danger that Tony Stark posed was to Peter’s virginity.  Peter sighed and turned around to give the other man a scowl.  “For your information, I found a wallet outside and I wanted to turn it in to security so the owner could get it back.”

Tony raised his eyebrows at this, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants in a leisurely stance.  “Aren’t you the boy scout?  All right, sweetheart, I know everyone at this party.  Why don’t you give me the wallet and I’ll see that it gets back to its owner.  No bothering with security.  Cut out the middle man.”

Peter could actually feel the color drain from his face as his mind searched for some way out of this mess.  Frantically, he patted the pockets of his jacket and pants.  He really didn’t have to try to look mortified or embarrassed, he was already there.  “I…It was…I think…I don’t…I lost it.”

“You lost the lost wallet that you found outside…you’re not very responsible are you, Beautiful?”

Peter’s scowl only deepened.  If he only knew how damn responsible Peter was the guy’s head would explode.  Young Tony Stark was ridiculously hot to a degree that left Peter feeling lightheaded with want…but he was also kind of a jerk and that made Peter want to push him down a flight of stairs.

Peter noticed that Tony’s tuxedo jacket was unbuttoned, the flaps held back by his arms, hands still stuffed in the pockets of his pants.  The teen couldn’t help but look.  He was only human and this was the man he’d lusted after since adolescence and he did look positively godlike in a tuxedo.  It was only when his gaze had fallen to Tony’s pants that he saw something fortuitous.  And no, it wasn’t the obvious bulge of an impressively erect penis.  Although he’d have to be blind not to see that.  Peter was no idiot, it was precisely why Tony was standing in that position.  The man had absolutely no shame and Peter both hated him and loved him for it.  Oh no, the thing that had him smiling and his heart hammering out an insanely fast staccato beat in his chest was the sight of a security badge hanging nearby that impressively large bulge of fabric.

A glance back at Tony’s face revealed that he thought Peter’s reaction was all due to his impressive manhood and it was all Peter could do not to wipe the smile right off his face with the truth.  He didn’t, though, because telling the man he wanted to steal his security badge was probably going to make actually stealing it much harder than it was already going to be.  So he bit the inside of his cheek and felt the color rush back to his face in a brilliant red flush across his cheeks and the tips of his ears at the realization that Tony thought Peter had been staring (and smiling) at his junk for a good sixty seconds.

“How long are you going to pretend that you’re not as into me as I’m into you, Peter?  The evidence is as clear as the crotch of your pants.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving this thing we have going.  Cat and mouse game, it’s sexy as hell…but I’ve got to say a few words to the shareholders in a little while and I want to know if I need to go rub one out so I don’t give them an eye full or if you’re actually going to give in with enough time for us to really have a good time tonight.”

Was it possible for his blush to get even darker?  Yes.  Yes, it was.  Peter ducked his head and tried to position his hands over the front of his pants as if only becoming aware of his own predicament when Tony had the audacity to point it out.  His mind had been so focused on other things that he had been able to relegate his physical desires to some distant part of his reptile brain.  Now that Tony had called attention to it, Peter was suddenly aware of just how uncomfortably hard he was.  “You are the literal worst, Tony Stark.”  His voice came out in an awkward hiss of exasperation as he looked for somewhere, anywhere to hide away and deal with personal matters without involving the billionaire playboy.  

He spotted a bathroom a few yards away and began a less than subtle crab-walk in that direction.  Tony’s laughter followed him, as did the man himself, striding with that same cocky self confidence and exhibitionism.

“I hate you.”  Why wouldn’t Tony just leave him alone?  What was worse, perhaps, was that the security guard was now also following them after a gesture from Tony.  There were people looking, because honestly who wouldn’t look at the spectacle they were probably making of themselves?  “I hate you so much, Tony Stark.”

“I can work with that.  There’s such a thin demarcation between the really passionate emotions, Peter.  Hatred and love are nearly interchangeable…as is lust.”

“I’m not lusting after you!”  Lie.

“Keep telling yourself that, Kid, maybe you can make it true.”

Finally, the bathroom door was within arm’s reach, he burst through, attempting to whirl around and slam the door in Tony’s face, but the guard was just too fast.  Happy blocked the move with an arm, and Peter was forced to either retreat or use enough force to break Happy’s arm.  He retreated.  Tony’s gaze swept the room, noticing a man standing in front of the urinal to their left.  “You.  Out.  Now.”

Mumbling apologies, the man was still trying to tuck himself back into his pants as he stumbled hurriedly out the door and left Tony, Peter, and Happy alone.

“Why don’t you make sure we’re not interrupted, Happy?  Peter and I need a little alone time.”

Peter gulped audibly as the security guard left the two of them alone.  Tony would never hurt him.  Even this jerky Tony, but Peter honestly didn’t know how strong his self control was going to be if things between them got more physical.  He was a seventeen year old boy.  He had so many hormones raging through his system right now that it was a testament to his willpower that he had withstood temptation this long.

Peter could actually smell Tony’s cologne he was now standing so close, and he was startled to realize that Tony hadn’t changed brands in almost thirty years.  They said scent was closely tied to memory, and Peter had to agree that smelling that familiar aroma was reminding him that the man in front of him was every bit Anthony Edward Stark.  A much less heroic version,to be sure, but Tony just the same.

The distance between them became even shorter as the other man stepped forward, the fingers of his right hand hovering dangerously close to Peter’s hip.  The teen could practically feel the magnetic pull of them even through the thin layer of air that still separated them.  Peter looked up at him, noting that Tony was drawing closer and closer.  He could smell the alcohol on Tony’s breath when he spoke again, the whisper passing over the skin of his face like a caress and making him shiver.  “All kidding aside, Peter Parker, I’m not here to force you into anything.  If I’m reading the signs wrong…if you don’t want to kiss me every bit as badly as I want you to, you can go.  If I’m right though, the only question is…what’s holding you back?”

Peter could do nothing but watch him lean in closer, saw the way his lips were parted, the darkness of his eyes, the hitch in his breathing. He hesitated, a thousand things conflicting in peter’s head and tying his thoughts into knots.  Tony’s lips were only inches away.  Everything he’d wanted for himself but been denied because of time and society and his own nerves and it was all right there for the taking.  He just had to…

Peter rose a little on his toes, his own eyes locked on Tony’s mouth.  A small growl erupted from the other man’s throat and Peter hesitated, drawing back again to look at him through thick lashes before he just gave in and did something supremely selfish.

Peter could practically feel the other man’s surprise.  If he had been expecting a tender, close-lipped kiss that he could entice into something less innocent and more demanding, than he had every right to be surprised.  Peter practically devoured him, lips parted and tongue demanding entry into Tony’s mouth almost before the man had time to register the kiss.  Peter’s hands quickly found purchase at the back of his neck, digging into his scalp and using a surprising amount of force to keep his head in just the right position for those hungry kisses to continue.  Peter felt the man growl against his mouth again, grabbing Peter by the ass and lifting him enough for Peter to wrap his legs around the other man’s waist and lock them into place.  Peter thought Tony cursed at the feeling of the erection now pressed against his abs, but the word lost all articulation under the kisses that Peter was want to give up.  Tony turned them both around, hoisting Peter a little higher to rest him against the sink and  gain a little leverage.  Finally, Peter had to pull back a little, gasping for air to fill his lungs, his hands leaving Tony’s head and instead finding their way to Tony’s pants.

Tony had turned his own attentions to Peter’s throat, making the teen moan softly at the wetness of his tongue, the friction of his teeth, and the sucking of his mouth that was going to leave purple bruises all up and down the pale and previously untouched skin of his neck.  “I’m taking you home with me tonight.”  Tony pulled back to look at him, hand coming up to cup the side of Peter’s face. He was laughing as he spoke, breathless and smiling and the look on his face made Peter want to cry.  He’d never seen the man look so carefree and happy and he’d been responsible for that.  Him.  “I’m taking you back to my place as soon as I put on the show for the shareholders.  I can’t possibly do all of the things I want to do to you in this bathroom…and I certainly can’t savor you the way I want to.”  

Peter’s fingers continued to caress the fabric of his pants, but he nodded at the plans.  He really didn’t trust himself to speak.  He didn’t even know if he could at the moment.

Tony had just returned to his lips, had only just begun to pull Peter’s shirt out of the cummerbund that held it when there was a nervous knock at the door.

“Mr. Stark, they’re calling for you to say a few words, Sir.”

“Fuck!” Tony nipped at Peter’s lip in consternation as he pulled back, drawing a little surprised squeal from the teenager who sucked his now bleeding lower lip into his mouth as he glanced between the CEO and the bathroom door.  “Stall them.”

“Uh, Mr. Stark, I already did…everyone…is waiting.”

“Fuck!”  Tony backed up a few steps looking behind Peter into the mirror and attempting to straighten himself up.  It wasn’t going to be hard for anyone to know what he was doing in the bathroom.  Even buttoning the tuxedo jacket over his pants wasn’t really hiding everything from view.  The more astute party-goers were going to get an eye-full of their CEO.  He didn’t know why, but Peter felt particularly pleased with that.

“Go ahead…I can just…I can wait here.  The…the sooner you do that speech, the sooner we get to leave.”

Tony’s gaze raked over him before he nodded.  “You’re right.  I’ll make it short.  I can think of a hundred things I’d rather be doing with my night than talking to those stiffs…and you feature heavily in all hundred of them.”

Peter was still blushing as Tony pushed out the bathroom door and vanished from view.  The teenager remained where he was, still panting and sore from the kisses.  But after he could hear the distant sound of Tony speaking into a microphone filtering through the bathroom door, he lifted his hand from his side and shook the security badge free that he’d palmed during the make-out session.

God, he wanted to go home with Tony tonight and lose his virginity a hundred different ways to the man he’d loved with all his heart, but duty called.  Hopping down from the sink, he splashed a little cold water onto his face and surveyed his swollen lips in the mirror.  “Come on, Spider-Man.  The universe needs you.  We gotta do this.”

Sliding out of the bathroom door, he was pleased to see that Happy had not been left to guard him.  It appeared Tony was now safely assured of his victorious conquest.  A part of Peter was particularly happy about getting the best of him, even if Tony’s balls weren’t the only ones that were going to be blue tonight.

—

Tony was not even thinking about his speech.  He’d practiced it a few dozen times for Obie until the man was content that it sounded earnest enough.  He could practically give it on autopilot, which was exactly what he was doing now.  His mind, instead, was on the pretty little thing in the men’s room.  Not only was he a sight to behold, but his fire and sass made Tony hungry with desire.  Such a tantalizing package of innocence and beauty and hunger and fire.  He wanted to explore every aspect of that multifaceted little diamond in the rough, and he had every intention of doing that until the wee hours of the morning…right up until he unbuttoned his jacket and realized that something was wrong.

“Okay, look, you’ve heard all of this before and I’ve had a little too much to drink, so let’s just enjoy the rest of the party and you can pretend like I gave you guys the song and dance you all expect, okay?  Perfect.”  He raced off the temporary stage two steps at a time, grabbing the arm of the security guard he’d commandeered to guard his bathroom escapade and steered him away from the foyer down an access hallway.  “That little minx stole my ID.”  He hissed the words at Hogan.  What was it everyone called him?  Happy.  Yes, Happy.  They burst into the security office and Tony gestured at the wall of television screens in front of them.  “Find him.  I want to know where he is and what he’s doing with my card.  Now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Happy set to work calling up a quick, interchanging circuit of the cameras that watched nearly ever inch of the building.  It took several seconds, but soon he was pointing at one towards the middle.  “There, Sir, the executive elevator.”

“My executive elevator.”  He spoke through clenched teeth as he leaned forward to get a better view.  The kid was nervous.  He could see him fidgeting as the elevator made a swift ascent to the executive offices on the upper floors.  If he’d wanted to see the offices, all he’d had to do was ask.  Tony would have been only too happy to bend him over his desk and fuck him into next week.  This whole spy routine, it was only succeeding in pissing Tony off.  He didn’t know who the kid was or who he worked for, but he had every intention of finding out.

“What the fuck is he…”  Tony frowned as the kid rolled up his sleeve and began to mess with something on his wrist.  A moment later and Tony was viewing the impossible.  Something appeared to pour from the watch housing, coalescing up his arms and around his body to form a hard exoskeleton.  An armor.  It was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. If he’d enjoyed the way the kid’s tuxedo hung, he had a whole new appreciation for the boy’s physique now.  As the elevator ground to a stop, the kid exited, looking around as if he expected to be stopped by a guard, but there were no guards.  Lots of cameras.  But the guards were all downstairs.

Was he tiptoeing?  It looked like he was tiptoeing down the corridor to Tony’s own office.  Tony expected him to go for the computers or the desk, perhaps the hard files, any number of things.  Instead, the kid was walking along the walls looking for something.  He appeared to find it when he pulled out a hatch that led to the incinerator in the basement.  Turning away from the hatch, he shot something from his wrist onto one of the built in book cases on the far wall, tested the tensile strength, and then jumped through the hatch, disappearing once more from view.

“Come on, Happy.”  He waved the man to follow him as he headed back towards the elevators.

“Where are we going, Sir?”

“Basement.  We’re going to catch our little intruder and find out what the hell he’s doing here and who sent him.”

[redlavendertea]

Rhinoceros Inc.

Have you ever wanted to get out of a work or school obligation, but didn’t have a genuine excuse? Have you ever wanted to get revenge on someone who did you wrong - but not too much revenge? We here at Rhinoceros Inc. have the perfect solution: a cold. Yes, that’s right - with just a few clicks of the mouse, you can purchase your very own cold, to infect yourself, or another person of your choosing.

We offer mild, medium, and severe packages, with customizable symptoms and duration. Click here to place your order!

Chrysanthemum Wu, Cold Psychic, has a really annoying roommate named Giselle who won’t stop throwing herself elaborate birthday parties in their tiny apartment. In a fit of annoyance, she orders up some revenge from Rhinoceros Inc., a mysterious online retailer that promises to give a cold to a chosen target. To her surprise, it actually works - but who or what is Rhinoceros Inc.? Could Chrysanthemum have finally found other people with cold-based powers? Author’s Note: A long time ago, I saw a post that mentioned the possibility of buying colds on the Internet. I thought that idea was amazing and decided to run with it…and apply it to my OCs. There’s definitely a lot of snz here, but it’s also fairly plot heavy.

This is part one - part two will come if and when I feel like it, which depends both on my schedule and how interested people are in part one. It’s about 5k.

ko-fi | commissions

~`~`~. For the past week, Chrysanthemum’s apartment has been exploding with people.

Her roommate Giselle had a birthday this week, and according to Giselle, birthdays are to be celebrated for at least a solid week. One day, she had her six siblings and thirteen cousins over to drink Midori sours and watch Project Runway, the next she had twenty high school friends over for a dance party, and the day after that it was her college buddies watching American Horror Story and smoking weed. When Chrysanthemum decides she’s had enough of this shit, Giselle’s adult kickball league is watching videos of their previous games and screaming at them. They are planning on having a pillow fight soon. Chrysanthemum has been invited to participate, but given that it’s 2 AM and she has an opening shift at the tutoring center tomorrow, she isn’t into it. What she wants is for Giselle and her friends to shut up and go home. There’s another party scheduled for tomorrow - this one involving a croquet course that Giselle is planning to set up in the living room. Likely, the parties won’t end until two or three days from now. Giselle never once asked if Chrysanthemum was cool with this, and she’d completely ignored her suggestions that perhaps some of these parties take place outside of their tiny apartment. “It’s cold out!” she’d complained, crossing her arms and pouting. “I don’t want to be dragging a bunch of people around in the middle of the night when it’s less than ten degrees outside - we’ll get sick!” Chrysanthemum had wished that they would - or at least, that Giselle would. That would put a halt to the never-ending parties pretty quick, and even if it didn’t, it would at least feel good to see her be inconvenienced in some way after all the noise and distraction she’d forced Chrysanthemum to endure. Unfortunately, that wasn’t happening any time soon. In fact, Giselle would not be getting any illness until late September, a full five months from now. Chrysanthemum herself was going to be catching two colds between now and then, and a third one when she’ll Giselle’s cold thanks entirely to the latter’s failure to clean up her dirty tissues, so that pisses her off too. She can’t sleep while listening to the thwacks of pillows and the shrieks of Giselle’s friends, so she ends up laying in bed scrolling aimlessly on her phone. A strange link catches her eye, and she clicks on it - Colds For Sale. It’s probably something about winter clothing, but the word ‘cold’ gets her attention. When you're a psychic who predicts when other people are going to get sick, you can’t help having that word on your radar. Have you ever wanted to get out of a work or school obligation, but didn’t have a genuine excuse? Have you ever wanted to get revenge on someone who did you wrong - but not too much revenge? We here at Rhinoceros Inc. have the perfect solution: a cold. Yes, that’s right - with just a few clicks of the mouse, you can purchase your very own cold, to infect yourself, or another person of your choosing.

We offer mild, medium, and severe packages, with customizable symptoms and duration. Click here to place your order!

Chrysanthemum blinks. She had to have misread that. You can’t buy colds online…can you? She clicks the link. There’s a list of cold symptoms with boxes that you can tick off next to each one, a box that asks for how long you want the cold to last, a box for the intended victim’s name, a box for the date the cold should start, an option for an immediate or gradual start, and a box asking for any extra information. Hovering over the mild, medium, and severe options reveals that the mild package creates superficial symptoms that don’t leave you feeling too bad - perfect, it claims, for getting out of obligations. The medium package creates a genuine feeling of unwellness and requires rest to get over, while the severe package will knock you out completely, and should only be used with the utmost caution. Beneath all that is a disclaimer stating that the colds are not contagious, and that the company cannot be held responsible for the stunning range of consequences and complications that could arise. It also includes an advisory not to use this on children, the elderly, or those with health issues. Beneath that are payment options.

This seems like…a real thing. What the actual fuck. Against her better judgement, she finds herself checking off the boxes next to sneezing, congestion, runny nose, blocked ears, sore throat, coughing, and fever. She considers choosing the severe package, but opts against it - she doesn’t hate Giselle that much, and she doesn’t want to end up killing her by mistake. Medium it is, with eight days worth of symptoms, for Giselle Leblanc, starting tomorrow morning with all symptoms beginning as soon as possible. In the “additional information” box she writes: make it the worst kind of medium possible. This is harsh, but if there's any chance of any of the upcoming parties not happening, she’s taking it. She takes her credit card out of her phone wallet, pays, and gets a cheerful confirmation that her order has been processed, and her product will be activated this morning at 6 AM. There is a high possibility that she’s just been scammed out of $29.99 - after all, if it was going to work she’d be able to predict it, right? If nothing else, the spite she felt while making the order makes her feel better about the shouting coming from the living room. ~`~`~

The next morning around 7:30 AM, Chrysanthemum wanders into the kitchen, and sees Giselle sitting at the kitchen table by herself. The friends who didn’t bail last night are still asleep on the couch or on the living room floor, but Giselle is wide awake, clutching a tissue and sniffling.

Her late-night purchase couldn’t have possibly worked, could it?

Giselle’s breath hitches for nearly five full seconds before she sneezes - “hhph-phchuu!” into the waiting tissue. “Bless you,” says Chrysanthemum, too embarrassed to look Giselle in the eye. She starts brewing coffee and pops a slice of bread into the toaster. Giselle mumbles a congested thank you, then blows her nose so hard it squeaks. “You sound…not great.” Chrysanthemum tries her best to look deeply absorbed in the process of spreading nutella onto on her toast and slicing up strawberries to go on top. “I thidk I have a cold. Snff. I was fide yesterday, but I woke up around 6 super stuffy. Snff. This is such bad timing too - I’b having my coworkers over for croquet add finger sandwiches today, but I’m so not up for doing the prep work—hhnngh-shiew!” She pulls another tissue from the box beside her and blows. “Do you thidk you’d be able to help mbe out?” “Don’t think so, no - I have work in the morning and I’m meeting up with Marti afterward.”

“Oh, come on Chrys, it’s for a party! Snff. Cad’t you take the day off and help me?” Giselle bats her eyelashes, then dissolves into a coughing fit that leaves her rubbing her throat and grimacing. It’s likely exaggerated for sympathy points, but she does genuinely look pitiful. Chrysanthemum almost gives in - after all, it’s entirely her fault that Giselle is sick - but then shakes the notion from her head when she realizes how genuinely absurd the request is. Take an entire day off of work to set up a croquet set for a party that she doesn’t even want Giselle to throw? Hell no! She refuses again, earning herself a protruding lower lip and crossed arms. “Well, if you cad’t call off of work, cad’t you at least skip meeting Marti and come help mbe afterward? Everyone’s coming at around four, so we’ll still have a good four hours — hyahhhSHIHH! Eckh’sh!” She snuffles into another issue and massages the bridge of her increasingly pink nose. “I feel awful - don’t you care about helping me?” “If you’re that sick, shouldn’t you do a raincheck on the party anyway? You won’t have much fun, and you’ll get all your coworkers sick.”

This is technically not true, but like hell is Chrysanthemum going to tell Giselle that she bought her cold from Rhinoceros Inc. “You dod’t understand, I’ve beed hyping up the party at work for the past month! I’b dressing up like Alice from Alice In Wonderland! My boss is supposed to be the red queen. Snff. Also, Cody’s going to be there! I can’t…pass up…snff…chadce to…spend time with…HGHHSHIEW!”

Giselle flops face first onto the table and groans, while Chrysanthemum takes a bite of her toast and pats her on the head. “I don’t think that Cody is going to like you more if you sneeze all over the place and give him your cold,” she says. “I guess you’re right. Snff. I’b just so disappointed. I put so mbuch effort into making sure that everything would be perfect for my birthday and ndow it’s ruined.” Tears well up in her eyes. Chrysanthemum doesn’t feel sorry for her, but for a brief moment she feels like she probably should. That feeling completely disappears when Giselle leans over and sneezes all over Chrysanthemum, spraying her with mucus and spit. Giselle apologizes, but chases it with these words as she’s dabbing her nose: “I guess if you end up catching mby cold you kind of deserve it, since you refused to help mbe.”

“Um, okay, I guess I should start looking for a new roommate if that’s how you’re gonna be…” This is said more out of obligation than genuine feeling - while she’s irritated with Giselle for doing something so gross, she hardly has the right to complain when she engineered the whole situation. “I’m going to change into something not covered in snot, then finish getting ready for work,” Chrysanthemum says. Which I have to go to so I can pay my half of the rent on our apartment. You just sit here and blow your nose or whatever.”

~`~`~

Work is a mixed blessing. Chrysanthemum knew she would be able to leave early because she’d predicted that her last student of the day, a college junior who had been pulling all-nighters to finish a 20-page research paper, would be out with a cold. She had not predicted that one of her other students, a sophomore who had been trying to get her number for the past six weeks, would have no idea how to put together a basic five-paragraph essay, and would end up crying in her arms about how stupid he was…and then asking for her number again when she pat him on the shoulder and said something vaguely reassuring.

Dealing with other humans has completely drained her, but hanging out with Marti doesn't count as dealing with other humans. She has to tell somebody about Rhinoceros Inc. - Marti is the only person she knows who won’t judge her. She probably won't believe her - she used to be skeptical as fuck about Chrysanthemum’s powers until she proved them - but she’ll at least listen and try to offer something resembling a solution.

They meet up at Argo Tea and get lattes and cookies, then scout out a seat with outlets so that they’’ll be able to charge their phones. Marti is wearing a lime green bomber jacket covered in black lightning bolts, motorcycle boots, and a mini skirt. Her green lipstick smears off onto the chocolate when she takes her first bite of cookie.

“You look cute,” says Chrysanthemum. “Coming from someplace important?” “Tazhane,” sighs Marti, as if that’s a place, not a person. “We had a date. I wanted to make sure I looked good.” “I’m sorry to interrupt your date.”

“She had class, so it’s no interruption - and anyway you know I can always make time for my girl.” She flashes a smiles, then wipes the crumbs from her mouth. “So what’s up? You just need to vent about the never-ending birthday or is there something else going on? Did you manage to talk to Stella?”

“I did not manage to talk to Stella.” Great, that’s another thing she has to be upset about. Why, exactly, would that sweetheart want to spend time with some asshole who spends $29.99 to make her roommate miserable? “It’s about the never-ending birthday. I think I might have put a stop to it, but it’s kind of…insane. And magical. You probably aren’t going to believe me, but just hear me out, okay? I’ll buy your next latte.” “You don’t have to bribe me to listen to your weirdo shit, but if you want to buy me a latte out of friendship, I’ll take it.” Marti leans over, hands curled under her chin. “Is it the psychic thing? Did you predict I’m gonna catch another cold?” “It’s…cold-related, but it’s not a prediction. Not a new one anyhow - I already told you you’re going to get one around mid-June.” “Right, right, that’s why I decided not to go to that Cake concert. See, I’m actually taking you seriously now - see what a good friend I am? You should buy me two lattes.”

Chrysanthemum pushes Marti on the shoulder, then says, “I’m being serious, Mar. Have you ever heard of Rhinoceros Inc.?” "I have not. I guess since you said this has something to do with colds it’s rhino as in nose, not rhino as in a friendly horned jungle buddy?” “I’m pretty sure rhinos don’t live in the jungle. Anyway it’s a website where you can buy colds and give them to people. I bought one for Giselle because her birthday extravaganza was driving me up the wall, and it actually worked. Like she woke up this morning sneezing all over the place.” Marti nearly spits out her drink, then starts coughing lightly. “Um…nani the fuck, Chrys? You purchased a cold? Do you mean you like…bought viruses off the Internet? Because I’m pretty sure that’s extremely illegal and you could go to jail if someone found out.” “No, they didn’t send me anything - the site doesn’t explain how it happens. I just paid $29.99 and it happened magically. I was pretty sure it was a scam, but it was super late and I was tired and pissed off so I decided to do it anyway. Here, look at the site.” She pulls it up on her phone, which she hands over to Marti. Marti scrolls through the site, brows furrowed. “This sounds like some really detailed bullshit,” she says, biting her bottom lip. “But you believe it?” “It’s not any weirder than me being able to predict people catching colds. If I exist, why couldn’t this? Maybe there's someone out there who can psychically give people colds.” “If there is, you want to meet them, right?” “Of course I do! I’ve always wanted to meet somebody else like me. Having powers nobody else believes or understands is one of the most isolating things in the world.” Chrysanthemum tries to keep the hurt out of her voice, but it doesn’t work. Marti sighs. “Okay fine. Look, I’ve felt bad about not believing you in the past, so I’ll help you out - but you’re buying my next five lattes. The first thing we have to do is prove it. Giselle could have easily gone on your laptop while you were sleeping and saw what you tried to do, then faked a cold to try and mess with you. I think we should order colds for ourselves. That’s the only way to know for certain if this is real or if it’s a hoax.” “I don’t exactly have another $29.99 to spare, let alone twice that…” “Whatever, we’ll just put it on my credit card and you’ll pay me back later. We have to get to the bottom of this, don’t we? Anyway I’d say we should each pick different symptoms, that way we can see whether we both get the symptoms we choose. I’m going to have to pick medium because it’s not going to be distinguishable from my allergies otherwise - you can pick mild if you want, though.” “No, it’s only fair that I suffer with you.” “That’s my girl!” Marti leans over and rubs Chrysanthemum’s shoulder, wrinkling her pale pink sweatshirt. “Alright, I’ll take sore throat and cough - I’m already kind of sniffly from the pollen count, so I don’t want to mix up the results. You can take all the nasal stuff. Let’s choose delivery within one hour with one day of symptoms, sound good? That way we can get back to my place and be sick in peace.” The two of them place their orders, then start packing up their things and heading to Marti's apartment.

~`~`~ The two of them lay in Marti’s loft bed, Marti wearing her Sword Art Online t-shirt and her black pajama pants, Chrysanthemum wearing Marti’s Sailor Moon t-shirt and Marti’s pink pajama pants, her hair in Sailor Moon buns because if she’s going to be sick she may as well be cute. On the bed beside them is a fresh box of tissues and a bag of cough drops, just in case. It is deeply bizarre not to know whether or not a cold is coming. Chrysanthemum has been able to predict every illness she’s experienced since childhood, and every illness Marti has had since they first met in high school. Whatever these people are doing defies her ability to predict it. They stare at the timer on Marti’s phone, which is counting down from the moment they placed their orders.

Ten seconds left. They count down each of them, hearts pounding in their chests. When they reach zero, it seems at first like nothing will happen. Chrysanthemum feels fine, and Marti says that she feels fine too. Maybe the whole thing was a coincidence - Giselle just happened to come down with a cold. Or maybe Giselle had seen the order and was putting on a show, and Chrysanthemum was going to catch hell for it later. Just as she’s about to write it off completely, a wild itch zigzags through her sinuses. Her breath hitches, her eyes slam shut and then she bolts upright in an explosive “heshhooo!”

She plucks a tissue from the box and blows her nose. After taking a few experimental sniffs, she realizes that her nose is now quite congested. One nostril is completely blocked, and the other is flooded with mucus. She blows her nose again, dislodging some of the snot. After a few moments of snuffling and sniffling, her nose starts itching again, and she lets out an itchy quartet of sneezes. Once her own explosions have stopped thundering in her ears, she notices that Marti is coughing into the crook of her elbow. It sounds phlegmy, crackly, and painful. “I thidk it worked,” says Chrysanthemum, sniffing into a fresh tissue. Still coughing, Marti offers a thumbs up. “So…what ndow? HyeshhhIEW!!” That sneeze gets muffled by the crook of her elbow. “Should we try add get id contact with the company? I’b sure they won't be willidg to explain how they do it, but maybe they’ll be a little mbore willdg to answer questions if they know I’m a cold psychic.” “Are you sure you want to just put that out there?” rasps Marti, unwrapping a cough drop and popping it into her mouth. “What if they’re some kind of shady government organization who will kidnap you as soon as they find out? Actually, what if it’s some kind of sting to capture people engaging in bio-terrorism and we’re going to jail because we bought the product? Shit, I really should have thought this through.” “Come on, this isn’t ad anime. Snff. It’ll be fide. Snff. Oh my god I’b so stuffy.”

Though she says this, Chrysanthemum’s heart still pounds as she pulls up the Contact Us link on her phone. She grabs Marti’s and and presses her cheek against her shoulder. “There’s a chat option. Snff. That’s probably a good idea. Snff.” They’re informed that a Rhinoceros Inc. representative will be with them shortly. After a few minutes - most of which Chrysanthemum spends blowing increasingly thick gunk out of her nose - someone named Hannah connects.

Kingston: Hi, this is Kingston. :) How can I help you today? “Pick a fake name!” hisses Marti. “Kingston’s probably a fake name too.” “They already have my name and yours because we’ve placed orders with the…ehhh….ehht-CHIEW! Ugh. Snff. If we were going to be anonymous we should have tried to do it sooner. Snff.”

Chrysanthemum: Hi! I’m a recent customer and I’m blown away by your product. It’s truly incredible. I was wondering if you could answer some questions about how it works? Kingston: I’m not authorized to answer questions about our process, but I can refer you to someone who is. May I ask what your question is so that I can get you to the right person? Chrysanthemum: I just want to know how it works. I can predict when people are going to catch colds, so if there’s anyone out there who can do something in the same ballpark, I want to know about it. Kingston: Just one moment please. Kingston has disconnected from the chat. Hannah has connected to the chat. Hannah: Hi, this is Hannah. I’m authorized to answer questions about our process. Before we proceed any further, I’d like to inform you that our conversation encrypted, and that you will not be able to save the information shared here. Chrysanthemum is pretty sure that she can bypass any encryption by taking a screenshot, but she isn’t going to say anything. Actually, for all she knows about technology an attempt would just set her phone on fire. She keeps reading after scratching her tingling, itching nose. Kingston informed me that you can predict when other people are going to catch colds - were you able to determine whether or not our product would work before using it?   Chrysanthemum: No, I couldn’t. This is the first time I’ve ever been unsure about anything cold related, so it was a strange experience. Hannah: I see. What would you like to know? “Shit, what should I ask? Snff. Cad I just come out add ask how they do it?” She grabs a fresh tissue and dabs at her nose. After Marti finishes dealing with a coughing fit that sounds harsh enough to blast a hole through her ribcage, she tells Chrysanthemum to get on with it already. Chrysanthemum: I want to know how you’re able to give people colds. I’ve waited my whole life to meet other people who were anything like me, so if there’s anything that you can tell me, please do. Hannah: We will tell you - if you sign a nondisclosure agreement. I’ll forward it to you momentarily. Please initial in the marked boxes and send it back to me. It takes Chrysanthemum longer than it should to handle the signing, because her nose is so itchy and drippy and swollen that it’s difficult to focus on anything else. She snuffles into a handful of wet tissues, then unleashes a volley of sneezes into a fresh one. “Goddabbit,” she mumbles through her unshakable congestion. “We shouldn’t have bought bediums. Snff. I’b afraid of what the severe versiod is like—hyekkCHIEW! ASHIHH! EH’SHuHH! Ugh!! Okay, I have it signed. Snff.” Hannah: Alright. Here’s the information you requested. We have a small staff of employees who are able to remotely generate cold symptoms in a person, as long as they have their name. The exact mechanism of this ability is unknown - only that it appears to be an inborn psychic ability. Our founder provides rigorous training for employees to ensure consistency and quality of service. Chrysanthemum: Are you able to do this? Hannah: Yes - most of our employees can. Chrysanthemum: How did you find out that you had this power? Hannah: As a little girl, I got angry with my younger brother for pulling my hair, and I wished for him to catch a terrible cold, and he did. I assumed it was a coincidence, but I kept wishing colds on people who annoyed me and getting the same result. Hannah: You said that you have cold prediction abilities - how did you discover this ability? “Damn, this bitch is petty,” rasps Marti. “Then again she’s not the one spending $29.99 for the same effect, so.” “I’b the queen of pettiness. Snff.” Chrysanthemum: I’ve always known. It took a long time to realize that other people couldn’t predict when they were going to catch a cold, and even more time to get anyone to believe me - but I've always known. It’s useful to an extent, but it’s also really hard. I don’t just learn about people’s colds, I learn about all the circumstances surrounding them. So I have all these little windows into the lives of people I barely know. Sometimes I learn some really sad things and I want to help but I can’t. Also, sometimes I find out that someone is going to get really messed up because of the cold they’re going to catch, and I know exactly to help them avoid it….but I can’t, because they’re not going to believe me. “Awww…” Marti reaches over and squeezes Chrysanthemum’s shoulder. “You need to tell me stuff like this, okay? I’m your best friend. I know I’m not always cool about it but all you gotta do is yell at me and I’ll get it right eventually.” Chrysanthemum nods, and returns Marti’s shoulder squeeze.

Hannah: I sympathize. I don’t have your predictive abilities, but being able to make people sick on command is hard. You feel guilty, especially when there are consequences that you can’t predict. I’ve landed people in the hospital before without meaning to. Working Rhinoceros Inc. has been a great way to get my powers under control and use them constructively. Chrysanthemum: Is this business really constructive? Don’t most people use it for revenge or getting out of things?

Hannah: Yes - but that’s not the only reason. People have used it to stop others from making terrible life choices, for enhancing their sex life…all kinds of reasons, really.” “HEHKCHH! Snff.” Chrysanthemum nearly drops the tablet with the force of her sneeze. Hard to ibagide this kind of thidg enhancing anyone’s sex life. Snff.” “You’d be surprised Chrys, people like all kinds of wack shit.” Marti grimaces, rubs a throat that’s probably painfully raw inside. Chrysanthemum: Yeah….sorry, I didn’t mean to insult your business - I just spent like $90 on it so I have no right to talk. Look, would it be possible for me to come by sometime? I don’t know where you guys are located but I’m fascinated by this. I want to meet you all in person. Maybe there’s even something I could do to help out.

Hannah: Yes - but you’ll have to pay for travel expenses yourself. We’re located in Brooklyn, NY, would you be able to travel there? Chrysanthemum: Yeah, I live in Bensonhurst. Just give me an address and I’ll be there. “Oh mby god Marti - I’m actually going to meet these people! Snff. You have to come with me. I’m too scared to do this myself.” Chrysanthemum clings to her friends’ arm. “Please please please you’re my best friend you have to help me.” “Mmm…okay. But maybe we should get Giovanni and Augustin to come with us?” Her voice peters out, and she gulps down half a bottle of water to get it back. “We should probably take some intimidating white dudes with us in case things get hairy.” “Augustin is the least intimidating white dude I’ve ever met —wait hang on…” Her sinuses spark with itchiness, and she sneezes into her Sailor Moon t-shirt — “HiiehCHIEH! Ugh, I’b glad we only have these symptoms for adother day, this sucks. Snff.” “Chrys, focus up - we need Augustin. He might look like a flimsy little homo but when he pulls out his professor act he’s terrifying! Who do you think is going to talk to the cops and get us out of trouble if it comes to that? Not my Mexican ass and not your Chinese ass that’s for damn sure.” “There aren't going to be cops, Marti. Snff.” “You do not know that. I’m not taking any chances. We’re inviting them.” Marti trails off into a fit of hacking coughs, then reaches for another cough drop.

“Okay, fide. I'll text them once we hash out the details.” She sighs, pressing her face into Marti’s shoulder. “I’b just so happy to have finally found other people who are like me.”

“Yeah yeah you big sap, I know. Let’s get this all worked out, okay? And then lets order in some ramen or something - I need soup or my throat is going on strike. You’re staying here tonight, right?” After heaving another sneeze into a rapidly grabbed handful of tissues, Chrysanthemum says that she is.

[thecloserkin]

fic rec: Dante’s Stars by Pretani

fandom: A Series of Unfortunate Events

pairing: Violet Baudelaire/Klaus Baudelaire

word count: 94k, complete

Is it canon: Yes

Is it explicit: Yes

Is it endgame: Yes

Is it shippable: I’m fucking crying it’s so beautiful

Bottom line: The one and only Violet/Klaus epic, read it and bawl your eyes out (def read the warnings first tho)

It’s a canon-divergence AU where the Baudelaires stage their own deaths to escape Count Olaf. In canon the three Baudelaire orphans—inventor Violet, bookworm Klaus, and baby Sunny—are hounded from guardian to guardian by cartoonish villain Olaf, who will stop at nothing to get his hands on their fortune. Olaf murders or incapacitates every single adult who spares two seconds of sympathy for these kids, leaving a wide swathe of destruction in his wake. In this fic the Baudelaires have decided to wipe the slate clean and assume new identities.

I have mentioned in the past how salty I am about the Baudelaires’ characters being sidelined for Snicket the narrator, Olaf the villain, and/or sundry other bit-players (in the Netflix show the Henchperson of Indeterminate Gender p much steals every scene they’re in). In canon we’re not really privy to the kids’ inner lives. This fic avoids that pitfall by sticking with tightly focused third-person Violet and Klaus POVs.

The thing this fic does really well is instill a pervasive sense of dread/paranoia which is remarkable because for the first 25% absolutely nothing ominous happens. The orphans get taken in by a slightly addled, very nice old lady and they just … live in her house. For free. While she cooks for them. And every morning Violet and Klaus hook up in her barn.

Ok back up so the ship they’re passengers on goes down in a storm, all hands lost, the Baudelaires are presumed drowned with the rest. Which is positively providential. The first event of any import to occur is that Klaus swipes some cash from a dead man’s wallet. Violet has ethical qualms but Klaus quashes them by pointing out that Sunny’s starving:

”I’d do anything for her,” he said. “Even become a thief or a murderer.”

Then his dark eyes found Violet’s. “I’d do it for you, too.”

So on the one hand I think this is rather extra. I mean, what possible use could a dead man have had for that money? Money that could put actual food in Sunny’s stomach. The Baudelaires are keenly aware that justice does not equal unquestioning obedience to authority and I think their exposure to a raft of tyrannical and unjust authority figures has hammered that home. They’re down with bending the rules because they know the rules are never even-handedly applied anyway (ie. the show trial at Hotel Denouement, the farcical final exam at Prufrock Academy). On the other hand I remember how uneasy they felt about stealing Hal’s keys in Hostile Hospital, and that was barely a misdemeanor! A friend of mine astutely pointed out how Violet is always trying to behave in any given situation the way their parents would have wished, whereas Klaus takes a pragmatic approach: do whatever keeps his sisters safe. And that is a very interesting contrast and one I want to see explored further.

They get on a train. Things that happen: Klaus notices when Violet is down in the dumps or angry or upset or in this case, wistfully jealous of other people who lead “normal” lives, bustling all around them. He’s not in love with her yet but noticing is the first step. Violet atm is super focused on being the elder sister, the adult in the room, the One In Charge. They get off the train and as soon as they blow into town Violet gets catcalled and propositioned. One of the themes of this fic is the horrendous baseline level of violence against women, some of it normalized and casual like the catcalling. The Big Bad Villain of the piece is literally a guy who’s murdered multiple girlfriends on account of them fridging his ass, since he appears to think that women owe him sex. And this man’s driving ambition is to add Violet to his list of conquests.

So often, men treated her as little more than an object … Klaus was different. He saw her, the woman she was inside.

HOW COULD SHE NOT FALL FOR HIM?? Is there another man she could learn to trust enough to fall in love with? However I’m getting ahead of the story. Klaus is still in the phase where he’s awakening to his attraction to Violet:

She was mother and sister, soft skin and tender strength, and he hid his face in her neck. Like a child, she rocked him gently, cradling his head.

I have to protect her, even if it’s from myself.

He couldn’t take this, his brave, beautiful sister, so near … the knowledge of what those men wanted to do to her. I”ll kill them … And what he wanted …

God but it kills me, Klaus thinking that his attraction to Violet is as noxious as those vile men and their rapacious stares. Klaus himself otoh is president of the Violet Baudelaire Fan Club. The contrast could not be more marked. Look at him building her up when she’s about ready to to give up on picking a lock because she’s lost her hair ribbon:

”I’m done, Klaus. I don’t have anything else to give”. ”Vi … “ he was pleading, willing her to believe in herself again, because he did. “You’re a brilliant inventor,” he told her. “It’s who you are. Nothing can take that away. You don’t need your ribbon.”

The unwarranted parallel that he draws between himself and a bunch of sexual predators is the source of so much angst and pining:

Is that what I am? A pervert?

She’ll blame herself for this

Well, well, well, if it isn’t ye olde I’m-Leaving-Her-For-Her-Own-Good-Lest-My-Perverted-Attraction-To-Her-Despoil-Her-Innocence. I am absolute trash for it every time, film at 11.

”I love you, Vi … I’m in love with you.” He said it like he was confessing to a crime, and she wanted to scream, to laugh and cry all at once.

THEIR LOVE IS A CRIME!!! Could these babies be more pure??

They’d always had an extraordinary connection. It was the reason for their seamless partnership, their ability to support one another … But now, the bond that had kept them alive was killing him. How could anything ever be right again?

”Vi, I’m sorry … I want to be your brother, but I can’t … I want to be more than that … I don’t know what to do.” ”Kiss me,” she said, “and be both.”

THATS IT THATS A WRAP I CAN NOW DIE HAPPY. That “kiss me and be both” is PERFECTION.

And she knew she’d never willingly give herself to anyone but him.

she’d loved him even then. Who could tell when they had crossed the line? It was already too late.

cross the line what line??? they were made for each other.

”You know, we missed the sunrise,” he said, nose to nose with his sister.

Violet and Klaus carve an extra hour out of their morning to go make out in the barn. I shit you not these kids spend a whole month without progressing past first base because Klaus doesn’t want to “pressure” Violet into anything she’s not ready for. Violet, for her part, is beginning to suspect there’s something wrong with her person; why hasn’t he even tried to take her top off? Thank you #Patriarchy for teaching us that desirability is the measure of a woman’s worth. God they are so thirsty. This bitch almost fell over the first time he touched her tits:

“Vi,” he spoke into her hair, voice breaking. “Tell me you don’t want this. Tell me to —“ But she only titled her head, to meet his mouth in a feverish kiss.

So Klaus and Sunny are having a snow fight and Violet tugs her glove off to tousle his hair and it’s THE SEXIEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN BYE. True story after I read this fic I legitimately thought that “Vi” was a pet name Klaus called her by in canon, and when I finally finished the books much much later and realized that it wasn’t—well, it should have been.

There is a fairy tale about a princess who disguises herself in the skin of a donkey to escape the attentions of her lecherous father the king. Violet and Sunny discuss it. Violet points out that rape is wrong because rape is rape, because it is coercive, not because it’s incest. I love it when fic highlights the fairytale parallels to the Baudelaires’ situation, and I feel like Donkeyskin was such a spot-on choice because it’s all about surviving sexual assault and learning to make oneself vulnerable again afterwards? Klaus is the prince who sees through her disguise and falls head over heels in love with her CHANGE MY MIND. On the subject of happily ever after:

”Is that what you think I want? A fairytale? A walk down the aisle in a white dress?" He felt a lump forming in his throat. "Most girls think about those things, don't they?" "I don't," she told him. "I prefer not to. And as for children…well…I love them. That's why I don't want any of my own … how selfish would I be, to bring another little life into this? Another hostage they could use against us. Imagine how awful it would be if…" She shook her head. "No children… not ever. I couldn't protect them." And she turned to him with a soft look. "It's no sacrifice, Klaus. Not for me. I've already been through a… a wedding, you know." He felt her shudder, and she averted her eyes. "I won't be sorry if I never see another wedding dress again."

My dudes, when you have children each and every one of them is a hostage to fortune because of course they are. Also, Violet’s traumatized by the whole idea of being a bride, after going through the wringer of her fake wedding to Olaf. Olaf put Sunny in a cage to compel her compliance, and that’s what the Big Bad in this fic does too. He says things like “You’re a sick little bitch, aren’t you? Spreading your legs for your own brother” which turns their beautiful relationship into this ugly depraved thing to be ashamed of. I mean, this guy was literally a voyeur who would watch them from his hidey-hole while they were being intimate?? My god I would feel so unclean. And the worst part is, he overheard them calling each other by their real names not their aliases, so now he knows who they are and since the Baudelaires are still on the lamb this is bad. It gets pretty dark pretty fast.

“He won't want you anymore! No one's gonna want you when we're done!"

So he kidnaps and rapes Violet. Klaus and Sunny rescue her, dispatch the villain (Klaus’s earlier “I’d do anything” for his sisters, including becoming “a thief or a murderer,” acquires sudden resonance), and that’s when fucking Count Olaf shows up!!!! These kids just cannot catch a break. Turns out the Big Bad was actually working for Count Olaf all along. Olaf’s plan is still the same plan from The Bad Beginning where he plotted to steal the Baudelaire fortune by marrying Violet. Since Count Olaf has never in his life paid a henchman a salary, he was keeping the Big Bad sweet by promising to let him ravish Violet first. Let the full enormity of that sink in. Oh wait a minute Olaf isalso bent on knocking Violet up asap so the union can’t be dissolved on non-consummation grounds, or somesuch:

"You look at me as if I were a usurper, boy, about to steal something of yours. Tell me…" He gestured at Violet. "Is she yours?"

Why would you do this to me??????? This is so, so painful. Olaf uses an electric cattle prod on Klaus and makes Violet watch??? It’s ok though the Baudelaires prevail in the end, and emerge from the bloodstained ordeal as the family they are. My kink will forever be Violet and Klaus praising each other’s bravery and resourcefulness. They! Are! So! Proud! and! Supportive! Of! Each! Other! This line from earlier in the fic gets me every time:

I’ve failed them. This was his greatest fear, worse than death or any torment fate could devise. In his head, he imagined the struggle, saw his girls beaten and shot, felt each blow and bullet as if his own body were the target instead.

Klaus Baudelaire laying down his own body between the world and his sisters is really the only thing I care about:

And then her gaze fell to the marred canvas of his body.

I bet his back is a mess of burn marks ugh. Four weeks after Violet’s discharged from the hospital (practical Violet made sure to get the green light from the medical professionals) they finally have sex again, which is a relief—after the rape they were both hesitant to initiate sex because she thought she was damaged goods and he thought she wanted space? Silly kids. Oh and and here they are being mistaken by strangers for a pair of lovebirds:

One of the women sighed dreamily. "Did you ever see a more likely pair of turtledoves?" "Of course not," Mr. Poe sputtered, dabbing his brow with a handkerchief. "The very idea!" And he excused himself hurriedly, to make some phone calls. "Don't be silly," said the other. "They're siblings. Haven't you heard? … They're the Baudelaire orphans." "Well, I daresay," the first one went on, "anyone would've taken them for sweethearts."

I CANNOT WITH THESE TWO

The Baudelaires finally, finally come into their fortune free and clear. They put on their parents’ wedding rings and move to Canada. A cat (!!!) leaves baby Beatrice II in a basket outside their front door, and that completes their family. Nobody deserves good things more than these kids, and this fic ends exactly where it ought, describing “a rural life of moral simplicity.”

I read this fic years ago and it was w i l d rereading it again, thanks for coming along for the ride. If anyone wants to scream/cry about this fic in particular, or Violet and Klaus in general, feel free to send me an ask or message me ANYTIME

[imagineclaireandjamie]

Could we get an update on As Yet Unread pretty please?

anonymous asked: I NEED AS YET UNREAD

femcoastie asked:Please forgive me in advance, but can I have some more of As Yet Unread, please and thank you. Truly from the bottom of my heart.

anonymous asked: Just binged As Yet Unread and it’s amazing! Might we get another update soon?

anonymous asked: I love As Yet Unread.. any chance of a new chapter on the horizon.  I just love the story…I am fascinated to see how she recovers and where the story goes.

theaccidentalshipper asked: Will there be any more chapters of As Yet Unread?? I’m dying to know what happens after Clair gets out of the hospital and back to Jamie’s!

anonymous asked: Hello. Dying for as yet unread ( I adore it )

@sassyqueenmaker asked: Can you please write a new chapter of As Yet Unread??? 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 

Mod Note: It’s been a while so here are the links to previous parts should you like to catch up :) - Prologue 1. Prologue 2. Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

As Yet Unread: Part 8.

“Claire!” Jamie called, turning the radio down as he glanced over to where she had been standing only moments ago. “Lass? Could ye find the kettle alright?”

Since her wild adventure weeks before, Claire had opted to stay more locally on her outdoor wanderings. She had found a local park only a stone's throw from Jamie’s place, it had a bench that sat next to a small coppice of trees and it was secluded enough that not many people frequented it - only a few dog walkers every now and again.

Rolling her eyes, Claire balanced the tray of tea on one hand whilst she rifled in the cupboards for the biscuits she’d thrown into the lunch basket. “Yep,” she hollered back, “I’ve got it Jamie, don’t worry.”

Today, though, Murtagh had called Jamie, coughing and spluttering down the phone. Suzette and Fergus had been sick with the flu the week before and he thought he’d gotten away with it -until he’d woken at 4am with a high fever. So Claire had offered her services to Jamie on-site. Even if she couldn’t do the majority of the heavy lifting and laying, she could keep him company through the day and fetch and carry should he need.

“I do know how to make tea you know.” She chastised as she placed the tray on a small table.

“Ye do know that I’m fine wi’ ye just putting the tea bag in the cup, aye? You didna need the fancy pot.”

“What do you take me for?” She scoffed, lifting the fine china lid to stir the tea bags around in the boiling water. “I make it the proper way, or not at all, Fraser. Now, milk and sugar?”

“Aye,” he chuckled, “both please, sassenach. One sugar, no’ too much milk.”

So far she’d just been collecting things from the van and supplying Jamie with an endless supply of hot drinks (coffee for the morning to perk him up, tea for the afternoon to keep him going) but being put to work gave her added purpose and she found that she enjoyed being busy.

“Could ye pass me the tape measure as well, lass?” Jamie asked, smiling as he held his hand out to Claire.

It had been a quiet few weeks, the job at the university had been completed and Murtagh and Jamie had moved on to a smaller project to help restore a small village hall on a local estate. Claire had spent any time in the flat whilst Jamie was at work researching new and improved recipes on the internet and had increased his vegetable intake ten fold. But she’d soon grown bored of the same four walls and Jamie had sensed a change in her.

“Sure.” She replied, passing him his cup before hunting for the tape measure in amongst a variety of intricate looking tools. “Do you want the five metre one or the eight?”

“There’s an industrial one somewhere about, sixty metres, I need that one if ye can find it.” He mumbled, his chin against his chest, a small pencil tucked behind his ear as he scrunched his brow whilst he inspected the flooring he’d begun to lay. “Can I have yer opinion as well, I’m not sure that the colour matches on these panels.”

“Don’t they come as a pack?” Claire returned, passing over the large yellow tape measure. “Shouldn’t it all be the same finish?”

“It should, aye, but it doesna mean that it is. Mistakes happen. One just looks a wee bit lighter - but it’s noticeable.”

Stepping over the myriad of equipment that lay on the cement underbelly of the floor, Claire glanced over at the few sheets Jamie had already laid down and tipped her head to the left. “I think that’s just the oak. See,” she pointed, “there’s a knot there that causes discolouration. That’s why it’s lighter. It’s just how the bark is but I think it’s nice, you know? Unique. You’ve used high quality products, natural ones, and it shows.”

Smiling, Jamie took a sip of his tea. “Ye’ve a keen aye, Claire. I’m glad ye offered to come today. I’ve really loved having you wi’ me.”

Claire’s ears pricked at the word ‘love’ and something stirred within her as she took a step back, the heel of her foot catching against the lino Jamie had already placed on the next part of the floor.

Her interest had been piqued by an offhand comment Susie had made one afternoon whilst they were having a picnic in the park. Murtagh and Suzette were the perfect couple. Both carried a picture of the other in their wallet. They both doted on one another, took care of their son and one another when they were sick. It was the kind of love Claire hadn’t seen before and her heart ached a similar phantom feeling even though she couldn’t pinpoint exactly when this particular desire had arisen.

Whilst buttering bread, Susie had looked at Fergus, readjusted his wee bib, wiped some milk from his chin and glanced towards the apartment block. “I always hoped Jamie would find something like this,” she had said, a sigh escaping her as she’d paused, “he and Murtagh are so close and so similar in many ways. I still hope for it, his own family.” Afterwards she had shrugged, not waiting for Claire to respond in anyway before turning the conversation back to a less complex topic.

“Have you ever been in love, Jamie?” Claire asked, the question falling from her lips before she could consider it wise or not.

Raising his head, his eyes caught hers -intrigue clear in his gaze- as he let the measuring tape slap back, loudly, into its casing. “Do ye mean have I ever had a girlfriend, sassenach? Or true love, like in the movies?”

Sweat pooled at the base of her spine as she considered his question. Having missed out on a usual upbringing she didn’t have enough knowledge movies to really comprehend what he meant, but she had a very basic understanding - a black and white variation of Jamie’s colour version.

“You’re a good looking guy,” she replied, assessing him as he stood staring with his hands balanced neatly on his hips, “I’m, and this is a massive assumption here, thinking you’ve been in relationships. But love, that’s something more special isn’t it? Deeper and more all consuming. I just,” she sighed, picking up her own cup of tea and swirling the beige liquid around the mug, “I’m curious. Murtagh and Suzette, the way they look at one another, it’s...rather exceptional, isn’t it?”

“Aye.” Jamie replied, his eyes softening as he watched Claire carefully. She had a glass face and he could see every emotion as they changed her features, the muscles in her cheeks twitching as her eyes got this far off look of fascination and yearning. “It’s a Fraser trait, ye ken. Did Susie tell you?”

“No, she didn’t. Can I hear it?”

Sitting on one of the abandoned bean bags that had been left in the space for them to use, Jamie patted the one next to him and beckoned Claire over. “Of course! Bring yer tea and sit over here and I’ll tell ye.” He waited until she was settled and looking at him once more before he started, a wistful look in his eye as he clinked his tea mug with hers playfully. “Frasers,” he started, winking at her as he took a large swig of his drink, “ye’ll come to ken, are a wee bit like swans. We mate for life. My grandpa and grandma were the first. My dad and mam the second. Jenny met Ian and within months they were engaged to be marrit. Murtagh waited the longest, I went to Paris for a year and he came to visit just before I came home, met Susie in a bar and fell head over heels in love. Wham. Like an anvil dropped on his head,” he quipped, “ like in those acme cartoons. He was a goner and stayed wi’ me until I was due to come home when he brought Suzette with him and immediately married her.”

“That’s some powerful magic.” Claire whispered, her mind conjuring the image of her own ill-fated relationship as she tapped her nails against her cup. “How did your mum and dad meet then? I knew about Jenny, of course, it’s one of the stories she told me when she came. But I don’t think I’ve heard about your parents.”

“Och, well, that’s some prime storytelling there, Claire. If I had any writing ability I could pen that wee tale and make some money, but it isna where my proclivities lie, aye?”

“That certainly sounds like a good yarn, tell me, please?”

“Here’s the thing, Claire,” Jamie said, a smile in his voice, “ye can ask them both yerself. They’ve asked if I’ll bring ye to Lallybroch next weekend but I didna ken if it was something you’d like. But now I think ye would. I can finish this off this week, hopefully Murtagh will be well again next week and we can take a vacation up there. What do you say?”

“You’d show me where you grew up?”

“Of course, lass! It’s a beautiful place.”

“I think that sounds wonderful.” Claire replied, smiling widely as she finished off her tea. “Knowing how well you tell stories, I can’t wait to hear your mother tell me her own.”

“She’s verra verbose, her and da love recounting the blossoming of their relationship. What I said about books before, I’ve told her plenty of times that she should write it. She’s a dab hand at weaving interesting and colourful tales and her own is truly wonderful. She used to rock us all to sleep telling it.”

“Then you should probably show me some of these films you mentioned before, the ones with fiction love in them, that way I’ll have something to compare it against.”“Trust me, Claire,” he returned, a hint of humour in his tone, “once my mam sit down wi’ ye, you’ll forget all of that Hollywood nonsense in an instant.”

“Ha.” She laughed, knocking her knee against his marrily. “I believe you. But it would be nice to know what you were talking about before, even if it is silly.”

“Then yer on. Tonight, after tea, I’ll find ye a cheesy film wi’ some sickly sweet romance in it for you, but don’t say I didn’t warn ye.”

[fatrainbowmermaidunicorn]

Stay ( Jungkook x You ONESHOT)

Thankyou for this request anon! Sorry it took forever to get it done, and sorry its long (10k). But I hope you enjoy it <3 And requests are still open eventhough Im a bit slow these days. Sorry about that!

A/N: So I am currently writing a lot of stories based on cheating and it got me wondering, at what level should someone who cheats be forgiven? And at what level they shouldnt be? What are your thoughts on this? Should you forgive your partner who is cheating on you? Does the reason that leads them to cheat matter? Share with me your thoughts!

MASTERLIST 

"I guess all those rumors were true," was all Y/N could managed to say while her eyes locked on Jungkook's brown ones. The eyes that used to look at her with love and adoration, now is filled with sympathy, and maybe, just maybe, a little guilt.

Rumors regarding Jungkook and another uprising girl group member has been going around for months, and being the doting girlfriend that she is, Y/N decides to trust Jungkook when he told her those were all rumors, a normal occurance for an idol like him, whenever she asks him about it. They have been together for almost six years, trusting him is just something she is so used to, and that's exactly what she did, without even a doubt in her mind.

But now...

Y/N went over to his dressing room during one of his music show although its not something that she usually do since no one other than the members and only some of the makeup artists and stylist knew about her existance as Jungkook's girlfriend. Its been six years but Jungkook still insisted to keep their relationship a secret, saying its for the sake of his career and his fans, but now she finally know the real reason why.

Jungkook left his wallet and phone that day, and after calling Jimin to asks their whereabouts, he told her that Jungkook always goes early to the venue whenever they have a show, and she should go straight there to see him. Went there she did, only to find her beloved boyfriend being straddled by the same rumored girl idol, skirt hitched up to her waist, her clothing scattered all over the floor, leaving her topless and panting on an equally shirtless Jungkook whose mouth is busy kissing her bare chest.

What's worse than seeing this is the fact that Jungkook calmly picks up her blouse that is on the floor to help her cover up, while she still stays on his lap, not even a slight remorse or guilt can be seen on his face.

"Hey babe, can you leave us alone for a while?" He turned to the girl who smile at him as she puts on her bloise and nodded. She leaned in to give him a peck on the lips, making Y/N closes her eyes as she feels her heart break into tinier pieces. The girl smirked at her as she passes by.

Jungkook sighed as he bends to pick up his own shirt and start buttoning up.

"I'm sorry you have to find out this way. Its not my intention,"

Y/N is speechless. How can the man who she had loved for the whole six years, and who she thought loves her back, be this cold and emotionless.

"I wanted to tell you soon. I just couldnt find the right time for it. But now you know," he stood up and look straight into her teary eyes. Y/N has lost all strength to yelled at him, or hit him or to just do anything. Jungkook doesnt seem to regret any of it, so whats the point for her to try scream and shout over it?

But still, there's something her broken heart needs to know.

"W-why? What did I do to make you stop loving me?"

Jungkook sighed and ran his hand through his hair before his eyes flickered back to her.

"Its nothing really. I just fall out of love," he said simply. Y/N's shoulders shakes as she tries her best to muffle her sobs when she hears his confession. Its been six long years, yes, but her love for him just gets stronger through every obstacle that they faced. She didnt think he would think the opposite. "Everything has becomes a routine for us. I want something new Y/N. I want adventures and fun. You... you just dont interest me anymore," his last sentence ends up in a whisper as the last effort to not hurt her.

Y/N cant stop her tears from flowing freely down her face anymore. She nodded weakly at Jungkook's emotionless face. She didnt know what to say. She didnt know what she should say.

"I'm sorry for thinking my love for you is enough," she whispered between choked sobs. "I love you Jungkook," Jungkook just stayed quiet as he looks at he hurt etched across the fcae of the woman he had loved for so long. "Just... just give me two days to clear up my things from the apartment... and... and I will be gone from your life,"

"Okay," he nodded before lowering his gaze. He thought he is going to be okay with this but it still hurts him to see Y/N cry. "I will give you the space you need and stay over at the dorm,"

Y/N looked over her shoulders one more time to the face that she loves and hate at the same time before exiting the now cold room. "Be happy Jungkook,"

/////

With non stop tears running down her face, Y/N threw her things inside the cardboard boxes that littered the whole apartment. It kills her to packed up every little memory she had build with Jungkook. Every single thing in the apartment reminds her of him, happy memories with him kept on replaying in her mind. The TV that she has turned on to keep her mind distracted while she packs start to play an entertainment news, and with her rotten luck, it showed a picture of Jungkook with the same girl from yesterday, now known as Yurin, finally announcing that they are officially dating.

Y/N felt her heart stops. It havent even been a day since she found out and Jungkook has already made a move. Six years their relationship was kept in the dark, always telling her he is not allowed to date and it people found out it would hurt his career. Six years of allowing herself to be fooled, always thinking and putting him first. Six years together, she had done everything with him and for him to just throw it all away... Y/N collapsed on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest as she buried her face and cry.

You can do this Y/N. You can be strong. You can let go.

After being curled up in a ball for almost an hour, she finally stood up with new determination and start to throw away every memory she had with him, picture frames, polaroids, tshirts, plushies, gifts from him, everything, into a pile as she packed up her things in a faster pace.

No more. No more Jeon Jungkook.

/////

Y/N smile as she look around the almost empty apartment. With her things gone, it looks almost unoccupied since Jungkook kept most of his things at the dorm. The movers has already brought down all her packed items and Y/N look around one last time, a small smile graced her face, along with a single tear that she quickly wiped away as she remembers for one last time the memory when she first moved in here with Jungkook. How happy they were back then.

Its over now. He has somebody new to make memories with. He dont love you anymore Y/N. Its over.

Its time for a new beginning. Y/N whispered to herself as she looks down at her flight ticket and the acceptance letter that she almost rejected at first because of Jungkook.

A new beginning without Jeon Jungkook.

/////

Jungkook lay down on his bed, tossing his phone around, something feels unsettled in his chest, when it dings, indicating a text from Yurin just came in.

"Another party Yurin? Really?" Jungkook sighed. Yurin is an uprising idol who is labelled as the IT party girl. For the weeks he had cheated with her behind Y/N's back, Jungkook felt alive. Going out to new restaurants, clubs and attending exclusive parties with a beautiful girl on his arms, but he's sick of it now.

Yurin loves showing whatever she does to the public. Its only been a day since they went public and she already showed millions of intimate moments of their relationship to the world. Private selfies, voice clips that Jungkook sang to her at nights, cute videos of their dates, everything. Jungkook knows his life as an idol was never going to be kept private anyway, but cant he just have a private moment with his girlfriend? Just cuddling and talking all night until the sun rises without it being posted on social media the next day?

Yes, Yurin is something fresh. Something new. Adventures and fun. But he didnt want that. He didnt want parties every weekends. He didnt want new suits and dresses everyday, just to attend another snobbish event. He didnt want rough nights together between the sheets but ended up sleeping with their backs facing each other. Those wasnt adventures.

Adventures are hiking up the hill at 4 am just to watch the sunrise together. Cooking home made meals that they never tried before together instead of dressing up and eating at these fine dining places that doesnt even taste good. Wasting his free day watching back to back superhero marathons, cuddled up in blankets, limbs tangling with each other. Passionate nights together that leads to pillowtalk, exploring their dreams and fears with one another. Dancing and singing to old pop songs while trying to clean the apartment but ended up only making it messier. Running around in the rain instead of waiting it out, only to be sick the next day. Sneaking out together to some run down diner in the middle of the night, meeting up with his hyungs, eating multiple burgers and ice cream, laughing the night away, only to work extra hard the next day to burn it all off.

Jungkook blinked as he realizes, those are the things he miss.

Those are things he used to do with Y/N.

He said he wanted new things. He wanted adventures. Something fun. That is what he said to Y/N when she asks him why. That is what he thought he wanted in Yurin. But Jungkook never realized that Y/N is everything he had ever wanted. She is the combination of familiarity and new memories. She is new experiences and familiar warmth.

Y/N is his home.

"What the fuck am I doing? What the fuck did I do to Y/N?!" Jungkook yelled to himself, surprising Jimin who passed by his room. "I need to go. I need to talk to her before its too late!" He grabbed his jacket and ran out, leaving a puzzled Jimin who didnt get a chance to ask him anything.

With panting breath Jungkook slammed the door opened only to be greeted with a cold and empty apartment. It doesnt smell like home. It doesnt feel like home. Not anymore. He stood in the middle of the empty apartment, realizing he's too late and Y/N is no longer here.

Jungkook noticed every single thing that is different. How the coffee table is no longer littered with her books, how there are no more fresh flowers in the vase beside the window, empty walls that's used to be filled with pictures of them, the smell of home cooked food that usually fills the air the moment he open the door, her favorite cartoon character cups in the kitchen shelf, the magnets that littered the fridge which she always bought when they went travelling together... everything is gone. And Jungkook has never felt more lonely.

He didnt know where else to go, so he ran to the only place he could think off; her office. The receptionist was shocked when she recognized who he is, but he doesnt care. If Y/N takes him back, he will tell everybody that will listen that they are together. That he loves her. That he's never going to let her go ever again.

"L/N Y/N. I need to see her," Jungkook asks still panting. The still shocked receptionist scrolled on her computer and after a few seconds, she looks up at him.

"Im sorry sir. There is no one that works here under that name," Jungkook furrowed his brows. He is pretty sure this is where Y/N works. He himself has dropped her here a few times before.

"Are you sure? This is XXX Enterprise right? Is there another one?" The receptionist shakes her head.

"No. This is the only one,"

"Then she must be here!" Jungkook slammed his clenched fist on the counter, making the receptionist jumped. "I need to see L/N Y/N!"

"But Sir. I.. I-"

"Did you say L/N Y/N?" Their conversation was interrupted by a girl who just came down from the building. Jungkook immediately rushed to her.

"Yes. Do you know her? Can you take me to see her?"

"I do know her but... I'm sorry. Y/N doesnt work here anymore. She quit with a 24 hours notice yesterday. I heard she moved somewhere out of the country," the girl explained, giving him a sad smile before walking away. Jungkook felt his knees wobbled as he hold on to the wall. It cant be true. It just cant be.What has he done? Did he really make her ran out of the country?

Where did you go baby? Please come back to me. Please stay. Please.

Jungkook walked out from the building, steps unpurposeful and defeated and unknowingly his feet brought him back to their shared apartment.

He was about to slumped himself on the sofa and just drowned in self pity when his eyes caught a box in the corner of the room. He walked over and saw its a box filled with their memories together

Did Y/N forget to bring this with her? Or did she intended to throw it out but forgot?

Jungkook sit cross legged in front of the box and start to take out the things inside. He automatically smile as his hand touched the first item. His white tshirt. Y/N loves to sleep in those. She says its comfortable and it smells like him, it helps her sleep better on the nights when he is away on tour. He sniffed the shirt and her scent start to filled his nose. He inhale and close his eyes as he starts to feel an ache inside his heart. He continues to rummaged through and found plushies he had won her on their first date from the claw machine, picture frames of them, the bracelet he bought her on their first anniversary. Every inch of their memory, Y/N has discarded and left it behind. The thought hurts him so much he feels suffocated.

The last item that is shoved to the bottom of the box is a scrap book that Y/N made for their six years anniversary. Its filled with pictures and momentos dated back from their very first date to their last one, which is almost months ago, making Jungkook realized how long he has been neglecting her. And yet, she had never once complained.

He flipped through the pages and saw pictures of him and his group winning awards, photos of their performances. Events that he never allow Y/N to attend under the false pretense that he is not allowed to date. Y/N never asks why, never once argued or demand anything from their relationship. Quietly watching her own boyfriend from behind a screen instead of being there with him celebrating.

Jungkook sighed and placed the scrap book down. Y/N never questioned any of his move. She trusts him and he broke that trust. For six years, all she wanted was for him to be happy. She's always there when Jungkook is stressed out over work, releasing his anger on her instead, but she always takes it with a smile. She's there when he's sick, always attending to him, making sure he and his group mates have enough to eat, bringing them lunchboxes during practice. Its not a question that his hyungs adores her. She's always considerate, understanding and consistantly asking what Jungkook needs and want.Even on the verge of breaking up, she didnt make a scene, agreeing quietly, respecting Jungkook's decision to stop loving her.

After six years, Jungkook only now realized he had never once asks her how she's doing. If school and work is hard on her, if she has a problem, if she's sick. Never once has he told her that she's already a perfect girlfruend for him and he loves her just for who she is. Jungkook starts to shake as his body try to hold in the hurt and tears he's feeling. The memory of her starts to haunt every inch of him, making him collapsed to the floor.

Where are you Y/N? Please come back to me. I need to tell you Im sorry. I need to tell you I love you. Come back. Please come back.  Jungkook whispered repeatedly as he finally fall asleep with the shirt that still smell like her clutch tightly in his grasp.

/////

Jungkook immediately went to see Yurin the next day, explaning that their whole relationship is a mistake, consumed with lust and not love. He had expected her wrath but to his surprised, she was calm and agreed to his request to break up. Her only request is to wait a month before officially announcing it as it would damage her image if the news came out only a day after going public.

Months passed by and the two of them still maintained a great friendship, hanging out and still contacting one another. If only Y/N is back in his arms, then everything would be perfect.

"Good job everyone, see you tomorrow!" The cheographer clapped his hands, indicating the end of their practice for the day. Jungkook slide himself down on the floor and take out his phone as he gulped down from his water bottle. He scrolled through the pictures of him and Y/N and smile to himself.

"What's up with you? Do you have like a secret girlfriemd or something?" Jin elbowed him as he slide down beside him and take a swift of water. Jungkook just smile at his hyung. Without anybody's knowledge, Jungkook tried to find her everyday since she left, texting and calling her number, but never once received a reply. But it gives him hope when no one ever text him back saying he got the wrong number or the number is no longer in used. He is sure its still Y/N's and she is just ignoring him.

"Seriously, are you keeping something from us?" Jimin pouts.

He looked up at Jimin, almost opening his mouth and stop when he remembers that nobody knows the truth except for Taehyung. Jungkook came back to an empty dorm the next day with tears still evident on his face, only to be found by Taehyung who is actually sleeping and decided to stay home. Emotionally hurt and unstable, Jungkook let out everything to his hyung and makes Taehyung promise to never tell anyone about it.

"I-"

"Okay guys. Go shower. We have a meeting about the new variety show in 30," Namjoon announced making the boys groaned.

Freshly showered, the seven boys dragged their tired feet to the meeting room which is already filled with the production team and their own management team. Seating himself in the corner, Jungkook slumped down on his chair, tired. He dont really participate in these meetings anyways so maybe he can just dozed off. Namjoon and Jin can always fill him up later. After a while his manager clapped his hands.

"Okay. Its settled then. Take a look around guys, these are the faces you are going to be working with for the next one year or so," he told the room and everyone start to smile and busy themselves to look around, making themselves familiar with their new colleagues. Jungkook straighten up and scanned around the room too before his eyes fall on a girl seated way back on the opposite side, her hair and cap pulled low to cover her face. Jungkook continues to stare as there's just something familiar about her, but it seems she's trying hard to avoid looking at him or his hyungs.

Maybe she's a fan and she's starstruck?

To his luck, someone went over to greet her, and having no other choice, the girl raised her head to smile and greet the person back, revealing her face, making Jungkook's heart beat faster and eyes turned wide.

"Wait...Y/N?"

/////

Ahhh shit. Why do my first project has to involved Bangtan? Why does life hate me so much?

Y/N cursed herself as she walked alongside her team into the meeting room. After a year of studying abroad in broadcasting and production, she finally came back and was immediately hired by one of the big company in the field. Impressed by her skill, she was immediately assigned to her first project, which is an ongoing variety show which will take up to a year or more. Y/N is excited until she read the project paper and realized with who she will be working with.

Very soon after her departure, she starts to receive daily calls and texts from Jungkook. Texts that says he miss her and he loves her, asking for forgiveness. She ignored each and every one of it. Her heart almost gives in at first, but when she remembers the image of Jungkook and Yurin, the memory of how he told her he dont love her anymore, her heart starts to harden again. She still remembers the lain and its never going away.

Y/N thought she was doing well in hiding herself. None of the boys seems to recognized her. Until the manager asks them to look around and she saw Jungkook's curious eyes keeps on staring at her. She pulled her cap low, hoping she can make it until the meeting ends. She almost made it when one of the senior calls out to her and she has no other choice but to look up, and that's when she heard it.

"Wait...Y/N?"

Y/N ignores it. Hoping Jungkook would think he got the wrong person if she just stayed quiet. But the relentless boy stood up and walked closer, giving her no other place to hide.

"Y/N? Y/N, its really you!" You take a deep breath and turned to face him. It would be weird if you didnt since Jungkook is calling your name in the middle of a crowded meeting room. Still, you thank god the room is noisy with people greeting each other so no one is really focusing on the two of you. You turned, only to be faced with Jungkook smiling wide at you, bunny teeth showing and all, the smile so wide it stretch across his face. He took a step closer and reached out for your hand but you flinched away.

"Im not dreaming am I?" He asks more to himself rather than to you. "Y/N... its you. It really is you..." his voice coming out almost a whisper, she can see his eyes glisten. You look around, hoping something will save you from this awkward situation.

"He... hello, Jungkook-ssi,"

Jungkook's brows furrowed, confused. "Y/N. Its me. Why are you-"

"Okay, that's it for today! We shall meet again on the first day of recording. Thankyou everyone!" Someone said above the noise and everybody start to exit the room, Y/N being the first to grabbed her things and ran, leaving Jungkook standing there alone.

"Hey Kook. You okay?" Taehyung patted his back, confused by the maknae's weird behavior.

"She's back hyung. Y/N's back," he whispered, eyes still locked on the door.

"What?"

"Y/N is back. And I'm going to make her mine again,"

/////

"Okay, so let me get this straight," Namjoon huffed. "You cheated on Y/N with Yurin. Then she found out, and then you say all these nasty things to her. Y/N moved to another country before your stupid ass can figured out that you actually love her and made a mistake. And again your stupid ass have been pining on her since then, and now a year later she's back as a part of the production team and you want her back?"

Jungkook nodded eagerly, disregarding all the insults thrown at him. Namjoon give the back of his head a hard smack.

"Owh hyung!"

"You deserve it you idiot!" Namjoon snarled. "How can you do that?"

"Yes. You do. You do deserve it. In fact, give him another smack Joon," Jin said as he continue to eat his food from the takeout box. All seven of them are now gathered around the living room, eating their takeout after the meeting when Jungkook, after being coaxed by Taehyung, decides to tell everything to his hyungs. Its better if they know anyway. Namjoon land another smack on the side of his head as per Jin's request.

"Oww hyung. That really hurts!" Jungkook groaned as he rubbed his head.

"Good. It should hurt. Its nothing compared to the hurt Y/N felt. Why would she loves an idiot like you I will never know," Jungkook lowered his gaze.

"I know I hurt her hyung. But I was stupid," he mumbled. "I'm still stupid. But... I want her back. Please help me. I have waited for a year to see her again. Now she's right here. I will die if I lose her again," Jungkook begged. Yoongi rolled his eyes.

"Oh stop being so dramatic! This happened because of your own stupidity anyway,"

Taehyung chuckle while Jungkook pouts. "I think he really will hyung. I have known about this for almost a year now and he does look like he is dying sometimes," Taehyung backed him up.

"Yoongi hyung is just pissed because he likes Y/N. We all like Y/N. She's great! He is still angry at Kook for breaking up with her," Jimin helps to explain something that everybody already knew.

"Of course I am. She the only one who understand the importance of sleep when you imbecile starts to make ridiculous amount of noise and she feeds me too. Jungkook is an asshole," he growled, making Jungkook ducked his head. Its no secret that Yoongi adores Y/N. She is the only girl he has ever brought to his studio and even share some of his unfinished songs. His hyung adoration towards his girlfriend sometimes ignites his own jealousy. Yoongi is extremely pissed off when Jungkook dumped her for Yurin, but now that he know he actually cheated on her... he's fuming. "I should have just dated her instead," he added, although teasingly, but it makes Jungkook tense up.

"Hyung, no! Y/N is mine!"

"No she's not yours idiot," Jin stood up and gave him another smack in the head. "At least not anymore," Jungkook grumbled as he rubbed his head again as he decides to ignore what Jin said.

"So are you all going to help me?"

"Of course we are! We like Y/N," Hoseok cheerfully answered.

"But Jungkook, remember. We want her to be happy. If she decides she doesnt want to be with you anymore, then promise us that you will let her go," Namjoon warned sternly.

"But hyung..."

"Promise us,".

Jungkook ponders for a while. Letting her go? How can he ever do that? But Namjoon is right. Y/N deserves to be happy and if Jungkook is not what makes her happy, the right thing should be letting her go.

"Okay... I promise,"

/////

"Damn maknae, can you at least pretend that you are interested in the show?" Namjoon hissed at Jungkook, making the latter smile sheepishly and concerntrate to what the PD is explaning about the game they are going to play. How can he focus on some silly game when Y/N is right in front of him? Although she's trying to hide herself between the cameras and crew, Jungkook's eyes followed her like a radar. Its only the first day and he already cant control the urged to grab her and hug her tight. How is he going to make it through the whole year if Y/N decides she doesnt want him back?

"Hey Y/N," Jungkook smile at her, flashing his bunny teeth and turned to the crew she is talking to. "Can you excuse us for a while?" The crew bowed and leave, finally giving him a chance to talk to her alone.

"Hi Y/N," he tries again, still smiling. God, why am I smiling so much? Why do I sound like a love struck teenager? Jungkook scold himself and clear his throat to look cool. Y/N bowed and gave him a small smile.

"Hello Jungkook-ssi," Jungkook's smile dissappeared into a frown at her reply.

"Dont call me that. Dont act like you dont know me," his warm brown eyes looks sad as he stares into hers. "Please..."

"Im not doing anything," Y/N shakes her head. "We are just colleagues now Jungkook-ssi, I think its proper for us to keep our formalities," Jungkook sighed.

"Fine. Then can we be friends?"

"Its too early for that. We just got to know each other again," Y/N smile, making Jungkook's heart skipped a beat.

"Okay. Then I will make sure we will become friends," he smiled back. He is thankful enough that Y/N is atleast willing to talk to him after the shit he has done. "How are you? Im glad you are back," he said slowly. "I really miss you..." his voice is barely above a whisper.

"Erm, I..." Y/N felt awkward. She really didnt know what to say. Despite the way Jungkook broke things off with her, and how he cheated on her, Y/N doesnt hate him. Instead, she blames herself everyday for making Jungkook stop loving her. She told herself that she should have take care of her appearance more, be more interesting, more fun, anything. "Im doing fine,"

"Y/N...listen. I didnt get the chance to tell you before. The moment I found out you left I went to find you Y/N,  but I was too late..." Jungkook lowered his gaze. "I'm sorry. Im sorry for everything. Im sorry for-"

"Its okay!" She cut him off in a rush. She really didnt want to talk about it. She doesnt want to remember the pain she felt when Jungkook said he dont love her anymore. Her still healing heart might just break again. "Its not your fault. People fall out of love all the time. Things that happened are in the past. Lets just keep it there,"

Jungkook is surprised at the hurt he's feeling. What does she means by its not his fault? Its no one's fault but his! "But Y/N, I-"

"Kookie!" Jungkook saw Y/N's eyes widen as she looks over his shoulder at the sound that is currently calling his name.

"Oh hey! I'm Yurin," the girl flashed her a smile. Oh Y/N knows alright. She will never forget the face she found kissing and doing more intimate things with her boyfriend a year ago.

"H..hi. I'm Y/N," Jungkook chewed on his lower lips, guilt and panic all over his face.

"Oh sounds familiar. But anyway, nice to meet you!" Yurin greet cheerfully and turned to Jungkook. "Oh Kookie, I wanted to tell you that my group is joining this variety too! We are doing it together! Isnt that great?"

"Wh..what?" Jungkook flickered his gaze from Yurin to Y/N. Y/N averted her eyes as she looks down. Its all too much. The way she held his arm. The way she calls him. The way she talks to him. Its all too much.

"I...I better get going. See you Jungkook-ssi,"

"Y/N, wait! I-" He couldnt finished his sentence before she has hurried away.  He sighed in frustration as his eyes followed Y/N who is stopped by Taehyung and Yoongi who finally has the chance to greet her. He saw how Taehyung hug her tight and lifted her up, swinging her petite body around in glee and Yoongi swooped in and gave her another tight hug, burying his head in her hair, that lasted a little too long for Jungkook's liking. Taehyung then stilole her away again and kissed her forehead. Jungkook turned back to Yurin who is still happily telling him the news and excuse himself.

Why does Yurin has to appear right now?

/////

Jungkook looks out the window as the van take them to their next venue for the shoot. Its the second day of shooting, and Jungkook is excited to see Y/N again. Its only been a few days and he miss her already. He's going crazy thinking of ways to get her back. But what bothers him most is what Y/N told him.

Its not your fault. People fall out of love all the time.

What does she meant by that? How is everything that happened not his fault? Does she really believes that he didnt love her anymore? How can she still be so forgiving and pure after everything he did and say to her in the midst of their breakup?

Jungkook mainly stare at her during the whole shoot and he almost cried out in frustration when its over and he still didnt have a chance to talk to her. That is until Taehyung happily told them that he managed to coaxed Y/N to join them for dinner. Despite being happy that he can get some time with her, Jungkook still feel a little jealousy seeping in when he thinks how Y/N easily agrees to Taehyung request. He calmed himself, trying to remember that Y/N and Taehyung has always been close even before she is in an official relationship with him.

Its okay. They are just very close friends. Very close friends.

Jungkook sat opposite from her, right at the end of the table, at the restaurant while Taehyung sat on her right. He keeps on looking at her as he placed pieces of grilled meat and side dishes on her plate without saying anything. She didnt say anything either, as she slowly eats whatever Jungkook placed in her plate while she softly talks and laugh with Taehyung.

"Thankyou for dinner. It was nice spending time with all of you again," she smiled at them. The truth is, she miss them so much when she was away.

"Then you should come and hang out at our dorm again. Just like before!" Jimin suggested.

"Yeah. You can be on my team when we play video games. Chim and Kookie is always ganging up on me!" Taehyung pouts. Y/N laughs and pinched his cheeks.

"Aish, you are so cute Tae. I really miss you,"

"Hear that? Y/N miss me!" He squeals at the other members making them rolled their eyes. Jungkook who is watching the whole scene start to feel the same sense of jealousy seeping through again.

Why is she calling him Tae? Why is she telling him she miss him? Why is she touching him? Is something going on with them? Jungkook cant stop all these negative thoughts from running through his mind.

"So I will get going now," Y/N motioned to the opposite way of the road. Hoseok and Jin starts to nudge Jungkook with their elbow.

"What?" He hissed. They motioned to Y/N with their eyes.

"Gosh, you are so stupid," Jin hissed back. It took a while for Jungkook to finally understand what they meant.

"Oh!" He quickly ran after Y/N. "Y/N, let me walk you home," he said between pants as he fall in steps beside her.

"Oh. Its okay Jungkook-ssi. Im used to it. The air is nice and I dont live that far from here," she smile, declining the offer.

"No. I insist. How can I let you walk home alone Y/N. You know I always worry about you," his voice turned soft as he looks at her. Y/N kept quiet as the memories came back. Its true. Through the six years they were together, Jungkook always worry about her safety. He always makes sure that she never walks alone. On nights when he is busy, he will make sure to call her a cab or an uber and check on her the minute she arrived to her destination.

"Y/N...I'm sorry," his soft voice broke through her thoughts. "I want to tell you again and again that I'm sorry. I am so so sorry for everything I did," Y/N shakes her head.

"No. Its okay. We dont have to talk about it. Its-"

"No!" Jungkook raised his voice, startling her. "Its not okay. Me cheating on you is not okay! The things I said to you that day... its not okay. Everything I did to you is not okay. Scream at me Y/N. Hit me, hate me. Do anything. I will take it all. I deserve it all," he said as she took both of her hands in his, stopping them in their tracks. "Do something. Dont pretend that I didnt hurt you... I know I did... and I'm stupid for doing it," Y/N finally hear the regret and pain in his voice, something she didnt witness when he broke up with her, making her heart ache.

"Yes Jungkook," her voice suddenly broke the silence. "It hurts so much. Is that what you wanted to hear? It hurts so much, I feel like dying," Y/N speaks up, making Jungkook's head snapped up to her face. "A part of me died when you say that you dont love me anymore. Especially when I cant think of anything else but loving you," tears starts to spilled down her cheeks. "But I know I'm the one to blame. I was too comfortable with our relationship, I let it die. I stop doing things that interest you... and its fine. You deserve better. You always do," she looked to his eyes with her teary ones.

Jungkook shakes his head as he held her hands tighter. Is that what Y/N thought all this while? She blamed herself?

God, what have I done to you baby?

"Y/N. Its nothing like that," he whispered softly. His own tears threatened to fall but he blinked them back. "I thought I wanted something new, but I was wrong. You are everything that I have always wanted  I have everything I need in you but I threw it all away. I'm sorry for making you doubt yourself. I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm sorry. I'm just so so sorry for everything," Jungkook exhale. "I have never stop loving you Y/N. Im sorry for what I said. I love you Y/N. I have waited for so long for you to come back. I have waited for so long to show you again how much I love you,"

Y/N is shocked by his confession.

"Y/N, I promise to shower you with everything that you deserve. I know I dont deserve you, but please... please give me a chance to make up for my mistake,"

Y/N shrugged off her hands from Jungkook's hold, making him startled. "No! Im sorry, but I cant Jungkook," her voice shakes from too much sadness. "You cant do this to me again. It hurts so much the first time. I tried everything just to get over you. You cant just come back in my life just so you can shatter by heart to pieces again. Im sorry, but I cant Jungkook," Y/N choked out between sobs as she start to turn around to run away but Jungkook was faster, grabbing her hands.

"Let me go... please,"

"I will. But you have to listen to me first!" Jungkook cried in desperation. "I know. I know I dont deserve you, I know that Y/N. But as much as I know that, I also know that I simply cant live without you. I love you too much. Losing you... it hurts. It hurts more than anything I have ever felt," he peeks into her eyes, making her look at him. "But I promise you this. You can run from me Y/N. You can leave and ran away. But I will chase after you. I wont stop chasing you, wherever you go, I will follow you, I will be right behind you. I will be right there, until you are fully healed and realized that I wont do anything to hurt you ever again," he said with determination as he lets go of his hold on her, letting Y/N ran off without looking back to him.

/////

Jungkook tried hard to show he meant what he said after that night. He starts to talk to her more eventhough she ignores him. He will invite himself to eat with her, join her on her breaks and walk her home, even without her asking or acknowledging it. It also doesnt help that the boys are starting to pull her into getting close with them again. Inviting her to dinner and movie nights, lunches and just hanging out with them at the dorm. With time, Y/N has opened her heart to at least be friends with him again.

Yurin who eyed their growing relationship starts to be consumed with jealousy. She agreed to the breakup because its what Jungkook wants. She believes that someday he will come back to her. But with this Y/N girl around... and looking at how love struck and smitten Jungkook is with her... she sense all hope for them dying. The truth is, she loves Jungkook and she will do anything to get him back.

And that is exactly what she's going to do.

Jungkook sniffed the bouquet of sunflowers that he just bought with a smile on his face. Its Y/N's birthday today and he has everything planned out. He's going to give her the sunflowers when he sees her, then the boys are taking her out for dinner after work and after that they are going to give Jungkook some alone time with her. Jungkook has booked a private observatory just for the two of them. Maybe its a little too much for someone who are "just friends" but he feels giddy thinking about laying down on the blanket and the picnic he prepared for them, looking at the beautiful night sky together.

He look for her everywhere but couldnt seem to find Y/N. She most probably have somewhere else to be. Running late for his first scene, Jungkook just placed the flowers in one of the rooms, knowing Y/N will find it since he has attached a card to them. He smile as he makes his way to his hyungs.

"You guys are on in about 10 minutes," Y/N peeked her head inside the girls' dressing room. Yurin and her group are now also a part of the show and although it kills her to see the face that haunts her nights everyday, she have to keep it profesional. Y/N was about to turn away when she heard the girl's conversation.

"How sweet is Jungkook? Its like you two never broke up!"

"Yeah. My ex would never would have bought me flowers. Especially without an occasion," another squeal. "Maybe the two of you would get back together!"

Y/N, given in to her curiosity, peeks her head again to see Yurin smiling so bright, holding a bouquet of sunflowers close to her chest.

Jungkook gave her flowers? I guess they are still close... And he didnt even wish me a happy birthday. Y/N thought sadly as she walks away with a burning ache in her heart.

Dinner was wonderful. The boys was so much fun to be with and the food is delicious. But she was more excited after Jungkook leaned in close to her and smile, whispering something to her that make her forget about Yurin and the flowers earlier.

"I have something special planned for your birthday after dinner. Just you and me,"

Y/N was excited as all of them picked up their coats and get ready to head out from the restaurant, she is more than ready for Jungkook's surprise. Who is she kidding? She has forgiven him long ago and her heart is already falling for him again. Y/N smile as she thinks about Jungkook. She can feel he has really changed this time.

Jungkook was just about to take Y/N's hand as they head out when his phone rings.

"Yurin?" He answered making Y/N and the other boys turned their heads to him. "Yeah, yeah of course. I will be right there. Dont worry. I will always be there for you," he spoke rapidly into the phone. Hearing Jungkook saying those words makes Y/N''s heart ache even more.

"Y/N... I'm sorry... but I have to-"

"Its okay. Yurin needs you right?" She asks cocking her head. The other boys stands awkwardly, not knowing what to do.

"Its not like that. I..." Jungkook sighed as he ran his hand through his hair. Leaving her for Yurin. Again. On her birthday. He knows this doesnt look good on him. Especially when he's trying so hard to win her back. But Yurin was crying on the phone asking him to take her to the hospital. He cant just leave her alone.

But looking at Y/N who's trying to hide her dissapointed face... it kills him. "About what I said earlier... Tae-hyung will take you there," he suddenly said while looking at a surprised Taehyung.

"Me?" Taehyung points to himself. "Urm yeah, yeah. That's right. Anything for the birthday girl," he flashed her his signature smile and offer his arm to her after Jungkook mouthed a 'please' to him.

"Oh no. Its okay Tae. You dont have to. I dont want to burden you," Y/N waved her hands.

"No. I insisted. A pretty girl like you shouldnt be spending her birthday alone. And its not a burden. In fact Im the lucky one to be spending some alone time with you," he wiggle his eyebrows making her laugh. Jungkook swallowed a lump in his throat as he looks at the love of her life links her arms to his hyung's and walking away. Taehyung has always been flirty, Jungkook knows that. But he also knows how his hyung has a soft spot reserved just for Y/N and how his eyes twinkle when he looks at her.

Dont fall for Taehyung Y/N. Not when I'm right here waiting for you.

/////

"Tae, its beautiful!" Y/N exclaimed as she looks up at the stars.

"Yes, it is..." Taehyung whispered as he keeps on looking at her. He still couldnt believe how Jungkook is stupid enough to have hurt such a wonderful girl like her. If he was given the privileged to own her heart, he will do anything to keep that smile on her face.

"Cant believe Jungkook prepared all this and didnt get to see it," at the sound of his friend's name, Taehyung snapped out from his thoughts and plopped down besides Y/N who is now sitting on the blanket. "But I guess Yurin is always more important," she said in a low voice as she lay her head on his shoulder. Taehyung wrapped his arms around her. He can see how much Y/N still loves his younger friend and how being so close to Yurin hurts her. Why cant Jungkook see that?

"Hey... dont be sad. Its your birthday," he replied softly as he kissed her head. "Jungkook cares about you, you know. He still loves you," it pains him to say it but if Jungkook is what makes Y/N happy, so he held it in. Y/N kept quiet, lifting her head, staring at the stars.

"Right now, I dont want to think about him Tae," she suddenly broke the silence. "Right now, I just want to enjoy this beautiful sight with you," she whispered as she snuggle closer, laying herself on his chest. "You are wonderful Tae. I wish you are the one I had fallen for..." her voice so soft, like she didnt mean for Taehyung to hear her but he did. Taehyung wrapped his hands tighter around her, feeling his heart skipped a little faster.

"Then fall for me Y/N," he whispered softly under his breath, making sure Y/N didnt hear him.

Jungkook cursed as he make his way back to the dorms after checking up on Yurin. He didnt know why she made such a big deal. When he arrived, Yurin just actually have a little cold. With frustration, he went to get her some medicine from the drug store and went home after giving them to her. Because of her, he missed out on a romantic night with Y/N on her birthday. Because of her, his hyung is spending some time alone with Y/N, doing God knows what. What if Y/N fall for Taehyung while looking into each other eyes under the stars? Those kind of thoughts fills his mind all night, especially when he realized Taehyung is still not back hours after he was supposed to. Jungkook sighed and forced himself to sleep while thinking of the good memories he used to have with Y/N.

Jungkook tries to make up for that night the next time he sees her by asking her out for a coffee date during one of the shoots break time. Y/N agreed and told him to just wait for her at the cafe as she has things to finished up first.

Ordering her favorite drink, smiling to himself when he realizes he still remembers, he sat down at a corner by the large glass window, patiently waiting for her.

"Hey Kookie. What are you doing here?" He groans as he looks up and see a smiling Yurin.

"Im actually waiting for Y/N,"

"Oh? Maybe I should keep you company while you wait for her. I have no where to go right now anyway and its so cold outside," Yurin took a seat without bothering to wait for his permission. Although annoyed, Jungkook and Yurin still has a decent conversation with each other. He still enjoy her presence. After all, they did used to date.

She suddenly blinked rapidly and squeal.

"What's wrong?"

"There's something in my eyes. Can you help to blow it away?" She asks as she squint. Jungkook stood up and leaned across the table, first softly tucking her stray hair behind her ear and blow into her eyes.

"Is it gone now?" She shakes her head.

"No. Lean in closer. Can you check if there's anything in my eye?" Jungkook, not doubting anything leaned in closer across the table, peering into her eyes, their faces are so close she can feel his warm breath on her face, his scent making her dizzy. She suddenly bumped her head to his, making their lips touched for a second.

"Oh Im sorry. It was an accident," she smile sheepishly. Jungkook just grunted and sat back down before he turned to the window. What he saw outside almost make his heart stop. Y/N is standing there staring at them and Jungkook knows she must saw what had just happened between him and Yurin and get the wrong idea. Jungkook immediately stood up to go out to her but the moment she realized Jungkook is looking back at her, she stumbled on her feet and fell down scraping her knee. She quickly stand up and ran away.

Jungkook ran after her, figuring our she must have went back to the shoot since they still have another scene later. Reaching the set, panting and breathless, Jungkook search everywhere for Y/N. After a while he finally found her, but not in the situation he has been expecting. Y/N was perched up on a table, her face wet with tears as Taehyung kneeled in front of her, cleaning her wounded knee from the fall earlier. Jungkook can feel his body starts to be consumed wirh anger and jealousy as he marched into the room.

"What are you doing hyung?!"

"Im cleaning Y/N's wound. Cant you see?" Taehyung replied, raising his eyebrow. Jungkook came closer and grab the hand that is touching Y/N's knee.

"Dont touch her!" His aggressive behavior surprised both himself and Taehyung, and of course Y/N herself. "I...I mean, let me do it,"

Taehyung hesitates for a moment but after looking at the two of them, he decides to give them space. "Fine. But if you hurt her again, I will kill you," he whispered to the maknae as he passes by to exit the room.

Jungkook kneeled down and start to continue cleaning the wound. Y/N shivers the moment Jungkook's warm fingers touch her cold skin and a fresh batch of tears starts to erupt.

"Y/N, its not like what you think," Jungkook srood up to level himself with her. "What you saw, its not like that,"

"I...I didnt see anything,"

"Then why are you crying?"

"Im crying because it hurts. My knee hurts," she whimpered. Jungkook smile.

"The Y/N I know didnt even bat an eye when she broke her arm. I dont think she will cry this hard because of some tiny wound on her knee," his face is so close to her, she can feel him breathing as she closes her eyes. "Y/N... I'm sorry," he leaned in closer. "Please believe me. There is nothing going on between me and Yurin. We-"

The mentioned of Yurin's name makes something snapped inside of Y/N, making her eyes opened and pushed Jungkook away, startling him. She climbed down the table and walk to further herself away from him.

"No. I cant do this anymore," she said in a shaky voice.

"Y/N, what are you talking ab-"

"This. Being this close to you. Pretending to be friends with you. I cant do it anymore. Not when the image of you and Yurin still haunt me everyday. I cant do it anymore Jungkook," she yelled. Jungkook is shocked. Y/N was never like this. She is always calm and composed. What has he done to push her to become this?

"Y/N. Please listen to me. I lov-"

"Dont say anything. Just dont," she cut him off, shaking her head. "You have hurt me enough Jungkook. Please... I dont want to hurt anymore. Please, just leave me alone!" She turned around and exited the room, living Jungkook alone, shaking to the bones trying to comprehend what just happened.

/////

Y/N avoided him and his hyungs since then. Jungkook didnt know what else to do. How can he be so dumb? How can he not see what Yurin is up to? He finally found out the scheme Yurin is planning to ensure he and Y/N will never be together when he overheard her talking to one of her groupmates. He finally found out about the flowers, about the fake sickness, how she had planned everything to always ended up wherever Jungkook and Y/N is headed and how she staged the whole accidental kiss in the coffee shop. Jungkook is furious. Furious at her for being such a bitch. Furious at himself for falling for her trap. He should have known better to stay friends with a girl like Yurin.

And now he's going to lose Y/N all over again.

"I told you I will kill you if you hurt her again!" Taehyung slammed Jungkook's bedroom door open. Jungkook looks at him with no emotions in his eyes. That's how he is since Y/N told him to stay away form her. To stop hurting her. Her words keeps replaying in his mind and it kills him to know that that's what Y/N thought of him. As someone who continuously hurts her.

"Go away hyung,"

"No! After what you did, this is how you are going to act?!"

"What do you want me to do hyung? I am not good for her. I hurt her. Thats all I do. I know Im stupid, an idiot. Whatever it is you came here to say to me, I already know it. So just get on with it and leave," Jungkook turned around in his bed, showing his back to Taehyung.

"You are really a fucking asshole Jungkook. I dont know why she loves you. I dont even know why I'm doing this when I know you will just hurt her again. But..." Taehyung's voice soften. "She's leaving again Kook. She resigned and she's boarding a train today. She's leaving,"

"What?" Jungkook immediately sat up.

"She's leaving and she's not coming back. If you truly loves her, go now. Go and fight for her now!" Jungkook, without waiting for anything else jumped out of bed and ran outside the door.

I'm coming Y/N. Dont leave. Please dont leave me.

With the information that Taehyung has texted him with, Jungkook managed to reached the platform in time, having even to buy a random ticket to get in. He searched around everywhere and finally found the person he was looking for.

"Y/N..." Y/N turned around at the sound of her name, surprised to see the man she loves standing there, looking disheveled.

"Jungkook? Wh...why are you here?"

"Please dont leave me again. Please Y/N. Please stay with me..." He walks closer to her as Y/N chuckle through her tears.

"I didnt leave you the first time Jungkook. You left me. You left our relationship remember?" She said softly. Jungkook stand in front of her, both of them facing each other, having so much to say but also nothing at the same time.

"I'm sorry Y/N. But please stay with me this time. I... I love you. I love you so much," Jungkook's voice is broken, as broken as his heart.

"I cant. I'm sorry but I cant. I dont want to hurt anymore Jungkook. Being here... with you... my heart will never heal," she said softly. Jungkook didnt get to say anything as the train speeds in, blocking all sounds. "I have to go now. I'm sorry. I'm sorry Jungkook," Y/N said one last time with tears flowing down her face as she turnd away to the train's entrance. Jungkook can feel her vision gets blurry as tears starts to flood his eyes.

This is it. This is the moment he will lose her forever.

And there's nothing more he can do to make her stay.

"Be happy Y/N. I love you," he gave her a small smile and turned away, not willing to look at the girl he loves boarding the train that will take her away from him forever.

Jungkook fell down to his knees as he hear the sound of the train drove away, taking along his heart away with it. He sat there on the floor, crying his heart out.

"Yah, Jeon Jungkook!"

Jungkook wiped his eyes. Is he dreaming? That sounds like...

He turns around to see Y/N still standing there, wind blowing her hair and face a wet mess with tears, but never looking as beautiful as she did in this moment.

"Y..Y/N?"

"How can you just let me go like that!" Y/N walks closer and hit his chest. "You promised me that night. You promised me that you wont stop chasing me Jungkook. Did you already give up on me?" She cried out. Jungkook grabbed her tiny wrists, halting her from continuosly hitting his chest. He pulled her into a hug and buried his face in her hair while her cries is muffled by his broad chest.

"N..no. I would never give up on you baby. I would never," he whispered. "But I promised you that I wont do anything to hurt you ever again. And being with me is what hurts you Y/N," he sniffled. Y/N pulled her face from his chest to look at him.

"You are an idiot. You are really an idiot Jeon Jungkook," she starts to hit his chest again. "How can you ever think for a moment that I would be happy without you? You may have broken my heart into pieces Jungkook, but without you, I wont ever be able to piece it back together. Maybe that makes me an idiot, but that is what I am. An idiot for you," her tears starts to flow again. "I love you so much Jungkook. I love you. Please. Please promise me that you will love me. You will keep on fighting for me this time. You will stop hurting me," her voice soft as she begged, breaking Jungkook's heart. Never again would he want to hear his love begged to be loved by him.

"Baby," he cupped her cheeks and wiped her tears with his thumb. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything. But I promise this time I wont ever do anything to hurt you ever again. If I could turn back time, I would take away all the pain I have put you through. I will fight for you everyday. Even when you are mine, I will still fight for you. I wont ever take you for granted ever again. I will cherished you, love you, worship you,"

"Just promise me you wont hurt me ever again. Just promise me Jungkook,"

"I promise baby. I swear with my life that I will do everything I can to make you happy with me," he kissed her forehead. "Thankyou for taking me back baby. Thankyou for giving me a chance. Thankyou for staying,"

"I have never left Jungkook. Because you have taken my heart from the very first moment we met, and you never did give it back. So in here," she pokes his heart, "is where I will stay, forever,"

[ddaenghoney]

SERIES: HALLOWEEN BETWEEN MIDNIGHTS

Chapter 3.2

On October 1st, you attend a Halloween party in an abandoned house rented by some friends. As scary as the idea of cult owners is, nothing could have prepared you and BTS(regular people) for the mayhem and terror that follows until October 31st.

This is an INTERACTIVE fic. At the end of each part, readers will be able to vote to decide what happens next. Analyze everything(except the time) carefully. Choices decide romance, friendship, and deaths; and yes, ANYONE can die.

In other words, please read at your own risk; anything goes in this story.

Start here | Previous part | Next part

Scowling at the strange inscriptions of geometric form in the wood you stood at the base of, you glared up at Jeongguk’s eager smile at the zany situation from the middle of the ritualistic symbol. The sleeves of his cloak flared out over his hands, the hood nudged improperly atop his head so that bits of his bangs stood up while others smushed against his forehead-- clearly he was enjoying himself, despite the concrete wall behind him with yet another inscription written in, admittedly, a refined script.

Trust in us, whom is you.

Must we do to come true.

You considered the writing to be subpar honestly. If it weren’t for the clean craftsmanship, you would conclude that Taehyung had spent an hour putting that on the wall, but you highly doubted he knew enough about engravings for it to look so orderly.

The man in question, dropped your hand from his hold to wander off to one of the corners, opening some type of chest and digging through its contents.

“Impressive, right?” Jeongguk’s voice held misplaced pride that alluded to him somehow building the room, but you both knew that not to be true, “They really believed in this stuff, huh?”

“Well, yeah.” You looked around, inhaling oxygen dryer than present the story above. Stepping forward as a few others willing to involve themselves in the seance entered in, you avoided placing your feet within the symbol, “Cult, Guk.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He played off the word, believing it to have little more meaning than saying a misguided group of people. “Cult.”

“Want to wear one too, Y/N?” Taehyung’s voice returned to your senses as he dodged around Jeongguk and another person to hold up the black fabric similar to his own, “It’s the only other one we could find.”

“Pass-”

“I’ll wear it,” Seokjin countered in from beside you, enthuse credited for the small giggles of people who clearly only came downstairs as a means to be in the background of his YouTube video. “It’s actually looks kind of nice; the fabric.”

“Gotta be stylish for the demons.” Jeongguk stated absently, thumbs pressing a barrage of text into his phone. “Gets you into the exclusive levels of hell, right?”

“Don’t think that’s what Dante was talking about.”

“Maybe we’ll talk with him tonight to ask-”

You listened in on all the humored and sarcastic chatter around you, wondering shortly why you even began to worry about how Jeongguk and Taehyung were acting. It really was all in good fun to them; the house, the garb, the inscriptions. Neither of them seemed to actually take it more serious than being a theme.

Although you did recall someone else thinking a bit more than that,

“Oh, Tae,” Your thoughts speaking aloud had Taehyung turning from Jeongguk’s phone to look up at you, Jeongguk glancing as well. “Where’s Jimin? He’d be the first one down here, you know?”

“Ah, yeah.” Jeongguk spoke up, his eyes widening at realization. Glancing between each other, Taehyung eventually shrugged, and looked back to you, gesturing for you to come forward with his hand.

“I’m not stepping into this,” Flailing your arms down at the giant inscription of about seven feet in diameter from the the top tip of a diamond design to the bottom, “Thing.”

“Oh come on,” Chuckling at your response, Jeongguk tapped his foot on the space in front of him, once, twice, three times. The dial of the ouija board next to his boot trembled lightly with the force. “It’s not gonna bite.”

“He’s just busy, Y/N,” Taehyung offered, abandoning Jeongguk to appease your statement and meet you outside the inscription. Jeongguk trod along behind him, eyes going back to his phone as he felt a vibration. “He came here with us before everyone else because he wanted to go explore the property.”

“Why are you whispering?” You asked, frowning at his need to keep the information low.

“Well we don’t want everyone going off and looking through the place,” Jeongguk pitched up, equally low in tone, “If anything gets broken, we’d have to pay, you know? Oh--” He smiled to his iPhone, angling the screen for Taehyung to also take a look. Only nodding at whatever he read, Taehyung once again leaned closer to you to remind,

“Remember none of this is real, so don’t get freaked out, okay, hun?”

Although he said that, the way they scampered off and swept out with their arms for everyone to step completely out of the symbols on the ground had you once again finding a hitch in the back of your throat. Seokjin’s cry commentation of the dust in the place and other random points did help to remind you that the level of disconcert among the other students meant nothing serious was about to take place, but as you glanced around again to the few who collected themselves against the wall-- as far as possible, you knew that this type of stuff was eerie.

Beginning in a long rambling about the cult, Taehyung explained meaning behind the wall’s phrasing behind them holding the central idea of what they stood for-- then Jeongguk gut in about how he wrote something similar in a high school English class-- Some parts of the small crowd giggled at the idea. Honestly, you didn’t know much at all about the cult so whatever Taehyung was saying could’ve been made up for the sake of their little performance. Maybe Jimin would have known.

“So this is what you all came for,” Taehyung asserted, crouching to pick up the wooden ouija board and hold it up into the air. A few people around you made dumb comments, and asked under their breath if he bought it from a toy store. “And,” He shrugged, dropping it back to the floor, “Well frankly I think I wasted money buying that, since I got it from Walmart. I doubt the cult wants to communicate through mass production, you know?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms as you watched him slide it with his foot just outside the inscription carved into the floor. Seemed as rehearsed as you expected.

“If there are ghosts,” Jeongguk spoke in, allowing Taehyung to stride away to the tip of the diamond opposite of where you stood. “I’m sure they’d want to chat with us in style, so let’s get on with the real chat, shall we?”

Everyone grew silent as Jeongguk began placing a candle on either of the wide points of the diamond figure, lighting each as he went. As you saw all the other points he could’ve placed candles you grew calmer at the idea that it was just random positioning that he hadn’t studied up on at all. “I guess they like fire? I don’t know, but the movies say so,” He shrugged walking towards Taehyung whom you watched with widening eyes as he pricked a point on his finger to actually use as an offering.

“Gross,” You muttered under your breath, shuddering as Jeongguk collected it in the form of a tissue, now dyed red on an outer edge. And just as unsettled as you began, watching Taehyung immediately stick a colorful bandage around the little appendage had you wanted to chuckle at the ridiculousness. Until Jeongguk’s strides caused him to arrive at your side,

“And what would you like to offer?” He asked holding out a hand, with the outline of a smirk fostering that he hoped would remind you it was all in good, harmless, meaningless, dumb fun.

“Not my blood,” You grimaced, “And why me-” His finger pointed to your placement in the room. Tips of your sneakers just gracing the bottom of the diamond, “I don’t owe the cult anything.”

“So nothing then?” He rephrased, hand moving to take a gentle hold on yours, guiding you just within the lines of the diagram. Wondering if you had anything reasonable to give that you wouldn’t care to lose, you quietly assessed what you’d brought. Definitely not your phone or wallet. The cat tail could be reused in another costume. You could jokingly say your soul, but as jovial as the the seance was becoming, you still felt entirely uncomfortable to utter even the idea. “Yeah. Nothing.”

Smiling at your choice, Jeongguk only shrugged, “Same.” And then he was off to the center of the circle in the middle.

“Okay, so, I’m probably the worst person to lead this since I don’t know anything about demons other than how I act when I don’t get enough sleep,” You listened around at the muffled bits of laughter, recalling the one time you’d woken him up early and knew this statement to be true. “But I took an acting class as a freshman, so I maybe I can pretend well enough to get them to talk to us?”

From the inside of his robe he pulled out a small book with only a small inscription embroidered in that you couldn’t properly see as his hand covered the majority of it. “This book was from the cult-- that’s not a load of crap; we found it cleaning this place up for the party. And, I guess, it was to help guide their rituals. Probably really hard to memorize this stuff, so I get having it written down.” You smiled mustering back laughter at his unamused tone. “Well, anyways, here’s the ritual of communication-- oh,” He tugged on his hood, prompting everyone in the room to laugh at the nonchalant demeanor.

“Siblings of the past,” Jeongguk began, properly saying the words, it seemed, as he went on, “Who are across from us, waiting for us, listening for us; we call out to you.” A small squeal from in the audience caught your attention as you looked toward the candle that Jeongguk had previously set down; now blown out. “Answer us, speak unto us your guidance,” The candles flashed back on, Jeongguk oblivious as he simply spoke out, “Lead us to our calling, lead us down our path. Our path is your path, our path is yours.”

You frowned as the flickering of the candles continued, heartbeat beginning to pick up. They said it was only a joke.

“Siblings of the past,” As he started the chant again, you replayed the words Taehyung said earlier. He wouldn’t lie to you about this being real-- no, you knew it couldn’t be real even if they tried for it to be. None of this was real to begin with, and if Jeon Jeongguk the biggest skeptic on the planet was reading out the chant, even if it were real-- which it was not-- even if it was though, they wouldn’t pop out for him, of all people.

“Our path is yours-”

As the syllable dropped you closed your ears from an eruption of screams as wind blew around the room. The candles flames extinguished again by the magnitude. You could hear the wailing of the air current, and shut your eyes as you just heard a confused mixture of words from everyone around you startled from the change. The only thing that sensibly blew through your ears was Jeongguk’s continuous of the chant, uttered out in the same monotone as he began it in. Wondering how in the hell he didn’t care about the wind, you squinted open an eye to look at him as he simply read along, gaze directed only to the book.

Was he…

“Our path is yours.”

“Woah!” The candles flashed back on as the windows suddenly stopped. Everyone grew quiet, including Jeongguk whose head still stayed in focus of that book. Your mouth opened to speak, but instead you winced, suddenly reaching to take grip on a surge of pain in your shoulder.

“Y/N, are you okay?” An onlooker asked you, somewhere behind you. You bit down on your lip, gripping tighter on the trob you swore beat in the bloodstream along your shoulder, eyes disconnecting from the affliction as you heard your name escape from Jeongguk, quietly.

His stare at you was concerned, the book in his hand taking none of his focus as he stepped forward, “Are you-”

“Taehyung!” Both you and Jeongguk flinched from the exclamation and sudden thump you heard behind Jeongguk. As you tried to adjust your neck to see what was wrong, Jeongguk turned back moving enough for you to both take in the appearance of Taehyung’s body limp face down on the floor.

SINCE THIS STORY RELIES ON READER’S CHOICES PLEASE VOTE EACH PART TO ENSURE YOU HELP GET THE ENDING YOU’RE HOPING FOR. PLEASE ONLY VOTE ONE TIME.

feel free to send me comments, predictions, thoughts, etc. uwu

[runicbeast]

Self-shippers, wanna see something cool?!

I've been scrolling through / following the #self shipping tag for a while. Noticed I have like, a F/o set up most people probably don't have that I'd love to share / teach anyone else to make! Just shoot me a message, don't be afraid, I literally have nothing better to do and love when people take interest in whatever I'm up to! I'm not worried about damaging any Street CredTM on my main here, I haven't been relevant in forever, if at all.

(This is my first time using a “Keep reading” cut off, since this post is sort of long. I think that sends folks to my blog, sorry if my font is hard to read in, idk how to change it. There’s always copy-pasting into a word processor)

The place where this amazing thing lies? Google Sheets. I guarantee you, it's useful for WAY more than data entry. I've been building up this "F/o set up", let's call it King Kong, an arbitrary name I'd given it that just sorta stuck, since 10/14/17. It all started with the Grade Book template.

Wow, it's been a while since I looked at the base template, so much has been changed since then. Not gonna show the real thing / parallel to this page, because sensitive info, but I will talk 'bout it's features. No one's ever asked and I never plan on sharing the sheet itself, so I'm just gonna rant on all the capabilities (and if anyone's interested, I can share some formulas to help build your own)

Note: This is all 1 Google Sheet, made the whole thing myself except for the /very/ base, which I think was the School Grades template? It's been a year since I started it, it didn't start this awesome.

There's a page full of graphs, info grabbed from my F/os to find what I'm attracted to. I hope to build The Ultimate OC, or one geared towards myself one day with this info.

You get one (1) graph. Looks like I have a preference.

The most used page is the Mobile viewport, or "Mobile RE", (Mobile Random Events) shaped to fit my phone. In the center is a randomized prompt, with pieces taken from another page. A different F/o is generated for each prompt, sometimes multiple (road trips are fun). Some prompts have a "switch" that is effected by character traits, such as characters listed as "Introvert" or "Extrovert" , or “Punchy-fist” or “Pacifist” may see a slightly different prompt

Example prompts -

"Spongebob Squarepants seems to have caught a bad case of the hiccups. Seems frustrating ~ You're just glad it ain't you."

(Has an Honest / Dishonest switch) "While you and Spongebob Squarepants are walking around town, you find a wallet. You could care less what is done with it, but Spongebob Squarepants insists the wallet be returned to it's owner. It's even got the ID in there and everything, so you oblige. One good deed a day." (While the Dishonest may just pocket it)

(Note: Spongebob ain't in there, just first rando I could think of XD)

I usually just peek at these for like a sec / enjoy 'em / imagine 'em in the moment, but you can write as many prompts as you want, even using them as actual prompts for drawing or fanfiction writing! I’d love to share the premise of some of the prompts I’ve collected if anyone is interested there.

There's also a refresh button, a break switch (seen here "Turned off for editing"), 25+ color themes (got "Chocolate" set in the pic), Night reading mode (love reading white words on black text, it’s on 99% of the time), Game modes such as "Best of" which just shows my favorite prompts, pronoun / name dropdown lists. want your F/o to call you your nickname? One of your kin names? Genderfluid and don’t want to be locked down?. 

Sound too good to be true? Hell naw mate, shit's real. Just needed to put a little work into it and boom there it is!

Looking outside the viewport, there's a currency system (Pearls), along with that, a gambling prompt exists (Though I have to calculate winnings / make changes manually), Merchant's Prompt (they can buy stat boosting / effect items w/ pearls), Inventories, Statuses (Cursed Tiki effects a character's stats), Holiday indicators for seasonal prompts, you bet your ass I have a column for each character's MBTI / Enneagram, friendships between characters, even across media sources if it works.

Testing laboratory to check if new characters I've found would fit here (linked because it wouldn’t upload to the post for some reason?)

Team Puzzle the F/os are working on, it's 82% done ~ Each piece is picked up when a certain prompt comes up.

I may not have a self-insert made special for self-shipping or a detailed story of how I met any of 'em / life together like most you have, which is super cool. But I've got this.

I realize some folks still may be too shy to contact me, so here's some useful formulas to start with -

=IF(A1="word", "Yes it is word" , "Nope it's not word") ^ You can nest this formula like there's no tomorrow. Can be used with below for random chance. Ex. Under 50 is tails, over is heads

=if(iserror(SEARCH("thing to find",A1)), "Not contain", "Contains" ) ^ Similar to above, checks if a cell CONTAINS a cell instead of is EXACTLY that word

=RANDBETWEEN(1,100) ^ Classic out of 100 randomizer, but numbers can be adjusted

=CHOOSE(RANDBETWEEN(1,2), "Apple", "Banana") ^ Another random choice. Can def have more than 2

=INDIRECT("column letter" & cell with row number) ^ This thing is very smart, let’s you outsource the location of a cell

Say these are all in column A - Red (A1), Blue (A2), Yellow (A3)

=INDIRECT("A" & B1)

Then in B1 or something you have either the number 1, 2, or 3. It will use that number to know where to grab the info from :)

I use this in my main Mobile RE viewport, the row number is randomized outside of it, also allows info / notes on specific prompts to come up in a separate cell since they use the same row but a different column

=INDEX(HP!D1:D88 , L21 , 1 ) 

^ Incredibly similar to the above “indirect” formula. I grabbed this straight from the sheet. L21 is like B1 in the other formula, and the HP!D1:D88 is like “A” in the other, but this one grabs info ACROSS SHEETS, HP is in a different tab than this formula is in! Very useful

=index(E129:M129, randbetween(1, counta(E129:M129) ) ) ^ Big ol' text randomizer. This one is for a single prompt tho

And that's like 99% of my formulas, I probably have minor ones floating around tho. Reblog if you've been inspired / want to contact me to make your own / want to spread this around!

[greedisgreen]

Can you please write a PetyrXSansa fic where Petyr is mugged pretty badly while on his way home, and Sansa finds him unconscious and bleeding on the road and then takes him to the hospital

Another old prompt filled, plus two kissing prompts!

@jonarya786 asked:

56, 34 :)

Anonymous asked:

Thank you! I’d love to read a story based on prompt 11

The snow fell hard as Sansa made her way through the side streets of King’s Landing, and she tugged her wool peacoat tighter. With how fast it was accumulating, she regretted not calling a cab, but it was only three blocks back to her place from Jeyne’s flat, and at the time she couldn’t rationalize the fare for so short a distance. However, while they resided in a safer area of the city, Sansa kept her mobile screen alert, tucked inside her pocket, thumb readied to dial. In the other, she held the bear spray she picked up the last(and only) time she got roped into camping. She supposed if it could keep a bear at bay, it would do just fine against a human assailant.

She’d just turned to take a short cut behind her friendly neighborhood bodega, when she heard it — a metallic clang. Her whole body tensed, and she deftly stepped into the shadow of a nearby dumpster, her fists reasserting their grip on the meager items meant to offer her a modicum of defense. She inhaled sharply, trying to tame shrill beat in her chest. She should really know better than to travel the secluded alleyways at night, and cursed herself for her stupidity. Again, she heard the tumult, but nothing more — no footsteps, no crunch of snow. She peeked from her hiding place, surveyed the landscape, and that’s when she saw the dapples of blood in the snow. Alert eyes heedlessly followed their trail to a pile of refuse in the distance, where an unconscious man lay face down.

Oh god!

Sansa’s stomach sank, concern suffocating the last reserves of her caution. With her thumb already poised for action, she dialed emergency services. She hadn’t truly processed the full extent of the scene when the dispatcher answered the line.

“Yes, there’s a man the alley behind the bodega at the corner of Silk and Sage. There’s a lot of blood.”

“No, I didn’t see what happened.”

“Is he breathing? I- I haven’t checked.”

“You want me to what? But I don’t know-”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll try. Just- just gimme a minute.”

Body surging with adrenaline, Sansa walked towards the body on shaky legs, cautiously checking her surroundings, phone clutched. She felt exposed now that she’d left her safe little nook, but the lifeline to the dispatcher was open and ready if she needed to use it. A man laid prone amidst the asphalt and rubbish as the snow slowly encased him. If he was breathing, it was shallow, indeed. She crouched down beside his head, smoothed the flakes away from his face to see a rather striking profile. He was cold, and the bottled up dread she’d been suppressing came welling up. Swallowing down the bile that threatened (Because oh, god! What if he’s dead?), she reached beneath the collar of his heavy coat, placed her fingers as instructed over where his pulse should be, and collapsed on the ground next to him as relief flooded her entire body. He’s alive — hurt — but alive. Upon closer examination, she saw an ominous gash over his temple, and a small pool of blood beneath his head, but flow had thankfully ceased. She heard a buzzlike sound, and realized the dispatcher was yelling through the open line to gain her attention again.

“He’s alive,” she breathed. “But the snow is falling fast, and he’s chill to the touch.”

“Yes, yes,“ she nodded, vigorously trying to clear the snowfall away form his head, somewhat annoyed until she realized the patch over his ears was actually his hair. “I’ll stay with him until the paramedics arrive. Thank you, thank you so much.”

Distractedly, she ran her hand over his hair — satiny smooth against her fingertips — and worried at her bottom lip. “What happened to you?” A pained groan was received in response, and Sansa squeaked in surprise, her phone fumbling out of her grip and lodging in to snow with a crunch. Automatically, she reached for it, but a hand caught her wrist in vise. She froze as she beheld glazed grey-green eyes fluttering open. A wretched sobbing breath caught in his throat. “Cat? Am I dead?”

“No. No, you aren’t dead.” She pried free the hand on her wrist, warming his frozen palm between her own.

Sirens blared in the distance, and she knew help would arrive soon, but he was agitated, distraught as he pushed himself up from the cold asphalt. She need to calm him before he managed to injure himself further. His voice cracked, “I must be. You’re dead, Cat.” He cried into his fist, and Sansa couldn’t bring herself to correct him. Whoever this Cat person was, she was clearly someone he cared for dearly.

Playing along, her voice was coated in tenderness as she soothed, “No, no, look.” She released his hand to cup his face. “Look at me. I’m alive. My hands are warm, can’t you feel them?”

He choked back another pained whimper, resting his cradled head against hers as the tears swam down his cheeks. He shifted closer, his palms cupping the outside of her thighs, flexing and releasing as though he was working out what was real. The heaving sobs receded and an expression akin to relief came over him, awe maybe. “I almost lost you,” he gasped, surging forward to catch her lips without warning. He was delirious and deceptively strong. Arms steely as they bound her to him, her own trapped against his chest. She opened her mouth to form a protest, but he used the opportunity to claim her further; his mouth slanting, his tongue darting in to bait her own. At a loss, Sansa relented. He wasn’t in his right mind, and if a kiss would give him comfort that’s not bad, right? She reached out for him, her tongue toying, lips teasing and soft. He tasted of mint, of salty tears and copper. Despite the melancholic circumstances, it was pleasant. Too pleasant. This nameless man kissed her hard and thorough, and her body grew flustered and hot even as her head was screaming how wrong it was.

Finally, his arms relaxed, and reason was restored. They both gasped for air as she placed some distance between them with a firm hand to his chest. Not so far that he would feel the ache of rejection, but enough that there was space to move again, to breathe again.

The ambulance lights flashed behind her lids, and she lifted them to see it skid to a halt at the end of the alley. As the paramedics rushed towards them with a gurney in tow, Sansa willed herself together, gently removing his arms from around her so that she could stand and flag them down. “He’s over here. And he’s conscious now.”

He looked very small from where she stood, and he stared up at her in a daze. Did he realize she wasn’t this Cat for whom he’d mistook her? Compassion wrenching at her heart, she knelt down beside him again, licked his taste off her lips as she tried to explain what was happening, taking his hand again. “You are hurt.” She drew it up to his temple, let him feel the blood with his own fingers, let him see it. Cupping his cheek, she attempted to drill understanding into him, blues eyes going soft as they met only incomprehension. “They’re going to take you to the hospital now, though, okay?”

Clearly disoriented, he nodded like a child, not fully understanding, but not in a place to question. And Sansa watched on helplessly, biting at her nails as they checked his vitals. Satisfied that he wasn’t in immediate danger, they prepared him for transport — strapping him to the gurney and covering him with a warm blanket.

So preoccupied with her own tumbling thoughts, Sansa almost missed the question when the EMT asked, “Did you want to ride with him?”

Yes. No. I don’t know.

“No, I- I shouldn’t,“ she said lamely, shuffling on her feet. “I only found him, and I need to get home and feed my cat.”

The paramedic shrugged and the pair started rolling him away. And the man’s expression was distant as he stared back her, his eyes lifeless.

God, this didn’t feel right, and she couldn’t stop herself from chasing halfway down the alley after them. “Wait! Wait,” she panicked. “What hospital are you taking him to?”

They didn’t stop their frenzied gait as one yelled an answer over their shoulder. “King’s Landing General.”

She stood frozen, hugging the wall, until they loaded him up and drove away. She felt like an idiot, worrying after a man she didn’t even know, and kicked the snow at her feet, feeling something jolt loose under her heel. Her investigation turned up a wallet — Italian leather, expensive. Recalling the thick wool of his overcoat, and the soft silk of his shirt under her hands, she knew it was his. Inside, it was stripped bare — credit cards, cash, anything of worth removed — except for his ID.

Fingertips traced his imaged, absorbing every detail as she memorized his name: Petyr Baelish.

The next day, Sansa paced in her apartment, tapping his wallet against the palm of her hand as her cat, Sir Percival, bobbed his head, following her movement from his perch on the kitchen table. What to do, what to do? Turn it into the police or drop it off personally at the hospital? She knew, rationally, that the station was the correct route — it was technically evidence. Yet, some treacherous curiosity gnawed at her insides; that hollow expression on his face etched behind her lids.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Pursing her lips, Sansa huffed through her nose in annoyance, hand rearing to strike the wall she shared with her neighbor. The old bat was going to drive her insane one day, and when she snapped no jury would convict her. Letting a silent curse slip past her lips, Sansa fisted her hand at her stomach, yelled through the wall instead, “Oh let up, Mrs. Schmidt! I’m not making any noise! I’m not even wearing shoes, for Christ’s sake!” Not entirely true, but her ornery neighbor would have to come complaining to her door to prove it.

Ugh! She needed to get out. Maybe a jaunt through the park would help; fresh air to untangle her hopelessly tangled mind. Giving a perfunctory scratch to Percy’s ears, Sansa snatched her jacket and scarf from where they hung and donned them clumsily as she ran down the stairwell, out into the thick drape of winter.

It was only a hop, skip, and a jumped before she stared up at King’s Landing General. She didn’t even recall how she got there.

Room 414

Sansa stared at the number; hesitantly, raised her hand to knock only to drop it again, uncertain. His face flashed before her; the crushing desperation on it just before he’d capture her lips; the listlessness of his eyes when the paramedics carted him away. The way he just looked at her — looked through her. Her knuckles rapped.

Knock, knock, knock

Through the door, she heard a plaintive, lowly murmured, “Come in.”

Tentatively, she peeked inside to see him reclined in bed, hospital gown slightly askew at his shoulders as he read a book. A set of reading glasses were perched on the tip of his nose, and it struck her that it was an appealing look on him; far handsomer than the faded license picture presented. Unfortunately, he seemed enthralled with the words on the page, and made no move to greet her or even glance up. She cleared her throat with a little cough, and his eyes darted up, spying her in the cracked door over the tops of his frames.

Color tinged her cheeks as their eyes met, and he seemed almost as abashed, quietly snapping the book closed and folding his glasses away. “I’m sorry,” he said as he tried to sit up straighter. “I thought it was just another nurse come to poke at me. Can I help you?”

“Umm… hi,” she greeted with a small, nervous smile, tucking away her hair as he slid into the room. Approaching the bed, hands animated, she explained, “I’m, uh, not sure if you remember me. I’m the one who found you last night.”

“Oh!” His eyes widen briefly. “Forgive me,” he muttered apologetically, rubbing a hand over the bandage near his temple. “My head… It’s still a little fuzzy.”

“No, it’s fine. You were pretty out of it, so I wasn’t sure…” She trailed off with a sigh, shrugging away the unfinished thought. “Anyway, I found this on the ground after you’d gone.” Edging closer, she extended it out to him. Their fingers grazed, sending a shock straight through her, and she retracted her arm quickly, averting her eyes to the linoleum tiled floor. “I thought you might want it back, even if it was picked clean.”

“Thank you.” Petyr — Mr. Baelish — he turned the wallet over a time or two, as if debating how much of his life had been disrupted before admitting defeat and pulling it wide. His brows twitched upward, and he huffed, “Wow. They even took my coffee rewards card.”

“The monsters.” The glib comment flew out without thinking, and an apology was half formed until she saw him crack a smile, heard a muted chuckle, and coyly met him with one of her own.

His whole face softened, the deep lines around his eyes going slack as he seemed to relax at last. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude. I should properly thank the woman who saved my life. What’s your name?” He held out his hand for her, and after a seconds hesitation, she placed her own within it.

The warm contact caused prickle after prickle to raise on her skin, and she prayed the color flooding her cheeks was mild enough to be explained by the coat she still wore. “Sansa — Sansa Stark.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Stark. I’m-”

“Petyr Baelish,” she finished. Explaining in a rush, “I saw your license.”

Mirth played on his lips as he tugged her closer. “Well, it seems you have one up on me, Miss Stark.”

“Sansa. If you keep calling me Miss Stark, I’ll just look around the room, confused,” she joked lightly.

“Fair enough. But if that’s the case, you must call me Petyr.” A thumb brushed enticingly over her knuckles, sending a frisson budding low as he raised her hand to his lips, his eyes hooded. “Thank you, Sansa, from the bottom of my heart.” When his lips met her skin, she thought for sure she was going to turn into a puddle on the floor.

She stuttered, heart flying in her chest, “I- Uh- I’m glad I could help.”

A catlike grin lit his features, as his thumb swiped again, rubbing the faint moisture from his lips over her hand before he released it. “Actually, if you have a moment, maybe you could help me with something else?”

Her brows furrowed as she flex her hand, trying to ignore the way it tingled. “I- Maybe?”

Pulling forth the tray table that had been rolled to the side, Petyr lifted the cover off his lunch. “My current harridan of nurse is adamant that I finish this. Yet,” he distastefully eyed the cup of green jello, “that gelatinous goo is on my plate. I don’t suppose you like it? You’d be doing me a great service,” he pled.

Sansa ruffled her hair and laughed. “You want me to eat your Jello? Really?” At his adamant nod, she shrugged, “Okay. I think I can suffer the indignity if it’ll help.”

“You’re an angel!” he exclaimed with exaggerated relish. “Now sit. Tell me about yourself, Sansa.”

A mild cerebral edema kept Petyr in the hospital far beyond what he would have preferred. He explained it to her as she toyed with the cup of jello in her hand. The condition was not severe enough to warrant surgery, but the doctor insisted he stay for observation until they were certain he was out of danger — one week at a minimum. He hadn’t even been there twenty-four hours, and the stress of being endlessly poked and prodded was already taking its toll. But he enjoyed her company, and would she mind coming again? How can a girl turn down an invitation like that?

So, it became their routine. Sansa swung by daily to visit Petyr, eat his terrible jello, and they would talk — about everything. She told him about her job at the coffee shop, the classes she was taking at the local uni, and he in turned would regale her with tales of his own. He worked for the government (some fancy accountant type), and traveled abroad on the regular. It was a bit intimidating at first. He was older, had seen places and met people she only recognized from the telly. The vast differences between them, however, soon dwindled in relevance as their similarities came to fore. They were both orphans; both raised in the foster care system; both somehow survived and thrived.

Some subjects, however, seemed too delicate to broach. The kiss, Cat, that whole crazy night — they both circled around it. That was until the night before his discharge.

After her shift, Sansa snuck a coffee to him — a mint mocha with an extra dollop of whipped cream — and smiled a secretive little smile as she watched him take an appreciative sip; her giggle coming out involuntarily as she pointed out the ridiculous amount of cream caught up in his moustache. Petyr tried to lick it away, but mostly succeeded in mooshing it beyond the reach of his tongue.

Grabbing a tissue, Sansa took pity on him, plopping herself at the edge of his bed. “Here,” she offered, tilting his face up to dab at that impossible little spot of white, face growing warm only after she’d finished and he’d pulled her hand down into his; her gesture suddenly feeling far too intimate for their short acquaintance. Feeling silly, she tried to remove herself, but he refused to let her go, yanking her back.

There was something alight in his eyes that she couldn’t place immediately, then it hit her. Nervous — he wanted to say something and he was nervous, and now she found that she could barely meet his eyes. What if he was about to say goodbye? Go back to the infamous Cat that he never mentions. At indistinct pain welled up in her chest at the thought, and her breaths grew shallower and shallower until he spoke, “Once again, I feel the need to say thank you. I’m not sure I would have survived my stay here without these little kindnesses of yours.”

Shaking her head, she tried to laugh him off. “It’s no trouble.”

“So you say, but…” he looked sheepishly towards their entwined hands, “I haven’t been entirely honest.” Sansa’s brows pinched, confused. “I need to apologize. I lied. When I first saw you, I acted as though I didn’t recognize you, but I did. I remember everything that happened that night.” Her face lit up like a neon sign when she understood his meaning. “I wasn’t in my right mind when I came to, but that doesn’t excuse my actions.”

“Petyr, it’s okay. You don’t have t-”

“I do. I-” He cleared his throat, uncomfortable as he adjusted where he sat. “ I forced myself on you and you’ve been nothing but kind to me since. Coming to visit everyday, bringing me newspapers and books, sneaking little treats for me past the nurses. I feel as though I’ve taken advantage. I’m sorry, Sansa. Truly. If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, please just say the word.”

Please, kiss me again. That was the real reason she came here to return his wallet. She tried to delude herself into believing she was being a good Samaritan, but it was only the lie she told herself to make her behavior more palatable; admitting that she wanted him just a bridge too far for her conscience. In her dreams, that kiss replayed over and over in slow motion until she was breathless. But, of course, she couldn’t say that. It had been meant for someone else — for Cat.

At a loss(because how on earth had she allowed herself to become this far gone), Sansa racked her brain before smiling lamely, and suggested, “Well… I wouldn’t say no to a steak dinner.”

“Is that all?” he asked, granting her a smile that almost made that twisty, achy feeling in her gut(That try as she might, she’s never been able to quite tamp down) worth it. He kissed her hand for the second time in so many days. “I think that can be arranged.”

Removing her coat, Petyr handed it off to the girl working coat check along with his own, and all those meddlesome nerves that’d been knotting up in Sansa’s stomach since they made these plans threatened to choke her. Oh, the restaurant is posh; actual linen adorned the tables with candlelight, the service staff in black tie dress, everything screaming of romantic rendezvouses. Earlier, she worried if perhaps she’d over done it with the teal raglan dress and black leggings she wore, but she feared now the exact opposite was true. She tugged at the hem that barely reached mid thigh; smoothed the fabric down her middle trying to appear unaffected, and failing. She fretted, teeth tugging at her red tinted lip until she tasted the lipstick, then made a mad dash with her fingertips to wipe off the color that transferred before anyone noticed. Shit, she was nervous, and this wasn’t even a date.

Petyr’s touch burned at the small of her back, startling her out of the worried glances she was casting over the room. His whisper light, but a touched concerned. “Are you okay?”

Clearly, she wasn’t doing a great job of hiding her apprehension. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Just- I feel a little underdressed. When I said steak, I was thinking more along the lines of the nearest Sizzler. This looks… expensive.”

“Never you mind,” Petyr assuaged into her ear, guiding her to follow the waitress to their table. “The owner is a friend of mine. Everything will be comped tonight.”

“I guess it pays to have friends in high places,” Sansa quipped as they approached their seats.

His hand slipped further around to squeeze the curve of her waist, and Sansa almost tripped over her feet in surprise. She could hear the smirk in his reply. “That it does.”

Filet mignon, drizzled with an avocado butter and rosemary sauce. Asparagus wrapped in bacon, cooked to crispy and tender perfection. Roasted cherry tomatoes with whole garlic cloves, bursting with savory flavor. Sansa hadn’t eaten this well since… Well, ever. There may have been one Thanksgiving when she was still just a child, but the memory was tainted; her foster family at the time having been particularly cruel.

Her companion watched in expectant delight, hands twined together over his own dish, as Sansa brought the first savory morsel to her mouth. A cacophony of flavor exploded on her tongue, eliciting a moan that was practically indecent.

“Does it meet with your approval, then?” he asked with a terribly wicked, teasing grin. 

That smirk really should be illegal for the deplorable things it did to her insides. She clenched her legs together, hoping to abate the fluttering twitch that pulsed low in her hips. With her ankles crossed demurely, she sampled the first taste of the spicy Syrah that he’d ordered with their meal, unsurprised to find it a perfect compliment. “Honestly, I think it’s the most delicious thing I’ve ever put in my mouth,“ she confessed with a blush on her cheeks.

“I’m glad. I wanted to do something special for you,” he said, cutting into his own meal. “Your presence this last week, it was a comfort. While I can claim many people’s acquaintance, there are very few who I could call a friend.“

Swallowing her disappointment, she plucked her bread apart. “So, is that what we are — friends?”

“Is that something you’d like?” Petyr commented casually, glancing up from his plate.

She plastered on a watery grin, attempting to hide her chagrin. “Of course, I would.”

“I’m happy to hear it,” he said quickly, explaining further, “I’ve missed having people I can rely upon. People, not in my pay that is. Unfortunately, as I’ve gotten older, it’s become rather difficult to connect with my peers. Usually, those around my age are settled down, worrying about how to pay for their kids’ education. I don’t have that issue. It’s freeing, but also quite — for lack of a better word — lonely.”

“So you’ve never married?” she asked, trying to squash the hope rising up in her. 

“No.”

“Then, I have to ask. Who is Cat?” The whole room seemed to go quiet, as she met the stormy depths of his eyes. She bit her lips before stating, “You called out for her that night after you’d been mugged.”

The utensils in this hand clanked as he set them on his plate, and he reached for his glass. “An old heartache. One that’s been slow to mend.” A deep draw of the decadent red wine bobbed down his throat, and he took a steadying breath. “She died almost twenty years ago. Her car skidded off a bridge. Her body was never recovered.”

“I’m so sorry, Petyr.” Her heart hurt for him, and she felt torn in two because she’d been sitting here jealous of a dead woman. Idiot — callous, thoughtless idiot. She squeezed his hand atop the table, determined to be the comfort he clearly thought her. “She must have been a very special to you, to still think of her after all this time.”

“She was,” he said soberly, returning her gesture along with a muted smile. “But that was a long time ago, and I’d much rather converse on happier topics, wouldn’t you?”

By the end of dinner, there was no denying it. Sansa was wildly enamored with Petyr Baelish — wildly enamored and completely, utterly heartbroken. He was the perfect gentleman; charming, funny, and after they’d demolished the first tray of bread she’d realized, devastatingly handsome for a man no less than twenty years her senior. The crooked grins he’d cast her way, the warm rumble of his laugh, the careful way that he’d helped her to and from the restaurant, the way his scent would crowd her — she was positively drunk off him. And he thought of her as a friend. Tears of burning frustration stung behind her eyes. What sort of stupid girl falls for a man who’s still in love with a dead woman?

The car hummed to a stop in front of her building, and Petyr’s hand found hers in the dark. “Is everything okay, Sansa? You’ve been very quiet the last hour.”

Sansa’s heart twisted as she took in the concern on his face, and her exquisite meal sat like a heavy immovable rock in her gut. “I’m fine.” She shrugged, casting him a pale shadow of a smile. “I probably shouldn’t have eaten so many lemoncakes. I’m just sleepy is all.”

“It was a particularly rich meal. I’m glad you shared it with me. I can’t recall the last time I had such enjoyable company,“ he agreed, tone raspy and warm. He pursed his lips, leaned into her intently, and that dastardly, sinful hope convinced her to close her eyes… "I thought perhaps-” But Sansa cut off whatever he was about to suggest, realizing far too late that he wasn’t making a move to kiss her at all. His lips were parted but immobile beneath her own, and by the time she pulled the brakes on this runaway train, she absolutely wanted to curl up and die. The face of complete shock stared down at her like a barrel of a gun, and his lips were stained red.

Oh, god.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “I- I-” She licked her lips, her hand scrambling for the door’s handle. She had to get out of the car before she really did die of acute embarrassment. The cool grip found its way into her palm. Jackpot. “Um, thanks for dinner.” She bolted. Through the door, into the building, up the stairwell; pulling off her modest ballet flats after the first flight because they kept slipping and she couldn’t hide in her apartment fast enough.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Who does that?! Just up and kisses someone who was only trying to be kind!

The keys to her studio unit jangled uncontrollably as her hand shook; her blood pumping at light speed from such a heinous error in judgment, and she didn’t take a true, full breath until the door was slammed hard behind her. Not even a full minute passed before the little fury dictator was demanding her attention.

Mrrrew, mrrrew

“Oh, Percy, at least you still love me,” she said forlornly, picking up the grey tabby from where he weaved through her legs. Kissing him on the head, “Even if it’s only because I feed you.” She placed him on the counter as she opened a bag of treats.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

"You have got to be kidding me!” Sansa whipped out of her kitchen and yanked open her door, fully prepared to tell Mrs. Schimdt just where to shove her wall banging broom, only to stop dead in her tracks. Petyr stood just outside her door, his hand poised to knock. Her stomach did a one eighty flip into a triple axle and whatever the fuck other fancy spinning, sproinging Olympic moves one could think of as he stepped closer. Words froze in her throat, which was just fine, as he didn’t seem interested in talking. He reached out for her — arms snaking around her waist, into her hair — and his mouth took hers in a deeply, sensual kiss. The slow, careful movement of his lips and tongue pulling the sweetest sounds from her throat. This kiss wasn’t as good their first. It was better. Because this kiss, this kiss was meant for her and her alone. She melted into him, meeting him stroke for delicious stroke, reveling in the same piquant flavor that she’d come to crave.

Petyr growled, painstakingly pulling his mouth away. “Now, if you’ll let me finish what I wanted to say before,” he purred against her lips. “I’d like it very much if we could continue to see each other.”

“Okay,” she sighed happily, nails rasping along his nape. “But only if you keep kissing me like that.”

“I don’t think,” he said, peck, peck, pecking down her jaw, “that will be a problem.” A sweltering kiss to her lips, and he loosened his grip attempting to exit gracefully. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Sansa wasn’t having it. She wrapped her arms around him tighter. Her voice dripping pure sugar, “You don’t want to stay awhile?” Oh, she really shouldn’t sound that desperate, but Petyr didn’t seem to mind.

The deep rumble of his chest warmed her through, as he replied with amusement tilting his lips, “We have an audience.”

“Hmm?” Sansa opened her eyes (When had she shut them? Who knows, who cares! Elation coursing through her veins because he kissed her! He wanted her! She was in his arms!), and craned her head around to see old Mrs. Schmidt standing in her house robe, cigarette hanging out of one side of her mouth and curlers in her hair.

Petyr tilted her to face him once more, kissed her lips with a grin. “Tomorrow.” He slithered out of her arms and veritably skipped down the stairs, and Sansa could not wipe the smile off her face if her life depended on it. It took all her effect not to make a complete ass out of herself by twirling into her apartment.

“Well, honey,” Mrs. Schmidt said in her smoke soaked voice, “If you two don’t work out, you can send him my way.”

In your dreams you old crone!

Sansa glided into her apartment, singing out sweetly behind her, “Goodnight, Mrs. Schmidt.”