#chapter 13 genuinely made me want to chew glass

[lastpagcs]

the average experience reading these two chapters back to back

[bigbadripley]

Chapter 13 - Duele

Marc Spector&Co. x Ex!F!OC, F!OC x Modern!Miguel O'Hara

Summery: Everything changed after Marc and Simone moved to New York. Being in a relationship with the Fist of Khonshu proved to be difficult enough without the added obstacles of normal relationships being forced into the mix. With seemingly irreconcilable differences overhead, fate’s plans continue to drive the pair back into each other’s lives, testing their patience, self-control, and new relationships. Is it truly written in the stars, or is it old habits taking over?

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | Dark elements | AU/AT |   Warnings: Language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Effects of trauma in adulthood. THIS IS A SEXUALLY GRAPHIC CHAPTER. Protected P in V (be smart), breeding kink if you squint, pet names, mention of past assault, mention of violence, lil bit of hurt/comfort

Words: 4K-ish

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter List

"¿Dime quien te da el derecho? De robarme hasta el sueño Te quiero, pero me da miedo Darte hasta mis pensamientos" -"Duele" by Girl Ultra

Marc's words stuck to Simone's brain like chewing gum until they made it to Miguel's place. She didn't want to admit that he was right, but he was, and she felt terrible about it. 

He just admitted to being Spider-Man, so why can't I admit to all my shit now? She thought. No more secrets. 

Her train of thought got lost as Miguel clearly wanted to pick back up where they left off hours ago, sprinkling wet kisses along her jaw and neck and kneading her buttocks through her sweats. Simone ached, craving to leave this night behind and fuck this beautiful man again and again until she couldn't think about it anymore.

You gotta tell him, Simone. She thought as she heard his zipper come undone. She knew what needed to happen, and it couldn't wait, or it would just be harder to say. 

"Can we talk, Miggy?" She asked in a gasp as he lifted the back of her shirt, and cool air left goosebumps up and down her spine. 

"Can it wait?" He rasped before running his tongue over the salt of her collarbone. Simone whispered no into another airy breath, which Miguel met with a slight chuckle that made her knees buckle under her. "Then can we discuss it while I'm inside you?"

It was tempting to let it go, let him use her in unspeakable ways, allow him to take her right there in the middle of his mostly empty apartment, and finally clear herself and him of some very overdue tension, but the puddle she was melting into felt sludgy as Marc's voice played in her brain.

So we aren't all that different.

It buzzed in her ears as if she had heard it all over again.

"It'll be the biggest mood killer ever." She answered, trying her best to sound serious. Miguel paused momentarily before backing up, realizing they didn't talk much before when they had much less to discuss. After the night they had, she likely wanted to regroup.

"Is this about la bomba?" He asked, referring to the decoy as the bomb. Simone stepped back and sat in his red lawn chair while Miggy sat on the couch directly across from her and removed his glasses. His genuine, honest self looked back at her.

"No, it's something else." She started as she rolled her head on her shoulders, releasing the pressure of the topic and events that led up to this moment. A few small cracks filled the air before she spoke again. "I might have redacted some information the night we discussed my childhood. It's a lot of tough stuff to talk about, but if I don't tell you now, I may never get the chance." 

"Okay, go for it. Nothing can be wilder than Spider-Man." He said, thinking the bomb he dropped earlier had to be the highest tier of weird but wondering if this had anything to do with her ex coming around unexpectedly. 

Simone filled her lungs with enough air until she ran out of space before she replied under a heavy exhale. "Don't be so sure." She started, noticing that she was subconsciously picking her cuticles, and shook her hands out to stop. "Do you want me to start with the least crazy shit or go straight to the craziest shit?"

"I suppose least," Miggy answered with a slight shrug of his shoulders. Simone paused as she searched for which of the points could be considered the least crazy and gulped before she began.

"The main reason for Marc and I breaking up was because, at the time, I was pregnant, and he... didn't wanna talk about it." She told in a nonchalant tone, not wanting sympathy for something out of her control and avoiding explaining how Marc didn't want to talk about the baby. 

That'll be easier to explain as its own point. Simone thought. Don't wanna infodump.

Simone watched as Miguel's eyes widened at this reveal and quickly finished her thought. "Given that I'm not pregnant anymore and don't have a child in tow, I'm sure you can guess how that went down." 

Miguel's eyes softened as he put two and two together. "Shit, I'm sorry, Simone." He empathized. All she managed to do was shake her head in response, clearing her throat as it started to burn at the memory of feeling the movement in her abdomen, then suddenly feeling nothing but pain.

Though Miggy had no clue what that must have been like, he hated Marc even more now that he watched the woman he grew to care about so much take another deep, shaky breath to calm her nerves. 

Does she want kids? We haven't even begun to talk that over. He thought before Simone spoke again, causing him to lose his train of thought.

"Now, it's not necessarily that he didn't want to talk about it, but he disassociated and left his alters to take over while he panicked." She did her best to explain to the geneticist before her. "He has D.I.D. and two other parts of his system... who I was also involved with." 

As she finished, she realized the weird part of that explanation wasn't the condition itself and studied Miguel's face to gauge how he would respond. Though his silence as he gathered his thoughts wasn't the most troubling part, it was the fact that his eyebrows looked like they were about to go through his roof as he no doubt realized what her last sentence meant.

"You had... three boyfriends? At once?" He questioned, to which Simone quickly responded.

"Yes and no. It's a lot to explain." 

 All at once, it seemed that Miguel's thought was replaced by something else he needed to bring up more urgently. "Wait, that's why you called him Jake on the fire escape?"

Shit, I did, didn't I? Didn't think about that when it was happening.

"Jake was taking over at the time." She explained. "I could just tell by his walk."

Another long silence blanketed the room, causing Simone's anxiety over the next topic to rise. She considered putting this whole thing to bed and just glazing over it, but she knew she couldn't do that. It had to be now.

Before she spun together the courage to start, Miguel spoke up. "Does it get crazier than that?" He questioned. 

Honey, you have no idea.

"Remember when I told you about my tío?" She asked in response, knowing it was indeed about to get worse as she wiped her clammy hands down her sweatpants. Miguel nodded,

"The perv? Of course." 

Clearly, he didn't know where Simone was going with this. He knew about the assault, the house dress code, his rules... all of it made Miguel want to hurl. Though he assumed it would be more of the man's heinous actions that she would bring up, Simone knew he wasn't prepared for what she was about to say. She figured it would be best to say it quickly, like ripping off a band-aid, before she lost her nerve.

"I killed him when I was seventeen." She spoke flatly into the air, avoiding Miguel's gaze and directing her own at her newly gnarled cuticles. Old habits die hard.

From under her thick eyelashes, Simone could see Miguel's jaw grow lax before his head fell back, "Fuck." He said under his breath. The news surprised him more than all the other confessions of the night. Over the last months of knowing this woman, she seemed far too good to be true, and though he hated to admit it, he was wondering when the other shoe would drop. Everyone has something. 

This is it. I fucked it up. Simone thought to herself as the quiet grew thick and her stomach filled with stones. She could hear her own heartbeat in her ears as she waited.

"Why are you telling me all this now?" Miguel's calm tone sliced through the dense tension.

"Because we just had a very eventful night, and shit like that happens around me all the time, as you'll come to find out... if you choose to stick around." She described, sounding doubtful in the second half. The ball was in Miguel's court for that, but to Simone's surprise, a slight snicker escaped his throat.

"Shit like you getting thrown into a closet and having your identity stolen? Having to deal with your headcase ex-boyfriend because of it and Daredevil, who... I still don't know how you know that guy." 

"Chaos tends to follow me around." She started, attempting to sound lighthearted. "And as far as I can tell anyone, I know Double D from work." 

More awkward silence followed as she felt her chest begin to tighten. Even if Miggy was mad, she would prefer he express it over having to sit and wait for him to say something, anything. She decided to be the one to speak up first. "You okay?" She asked timidly.

Are you fucking high? Of course, he's not okay!

Miguel was quiet for another short beat before he hunched forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, really needing to look at Simone for the rest of this conversation. "It's just a lot of information to take in. I mean, you murdered your uncle?"

That's precisely what I did.

"He assaulted me, Miguel." She prefaced. "My mom didn't want me home, the last friends I had on the planet couldn't help... I just didn't think I had a choice. I would either go to prison or home, which seemed better than that hellscape." She rationalized, though she felt she didn't need to. What she wouldn't do was apologize for the actions of the scared teenager she once was.

Simone didn't expect to see Miguel nod, making her more nervous about the following sentence. 

"I know. I'm just struggling with the thought that you did that. I guess I understand, though." He said. Simone could have sighed with relief as the hefty weight was removed from her chest at his understanding, and figured it was time for a lighter note.

"Have I completely killed the mood?" She asked with a tick of her eyebrow, not expecting to be able to pick back up right away but not being totally opposed. 

Miguel welcomed the pace change and smirked, "Oh, not at all. In fact-" He began as he stood from the couch and sauntered the short distance between him and the lawn chair Simone sat in and bent down, bracing a hand on each of the plastic arms and bringing his eyes parallel to hers. "Seeing you get worked up before you swung on that L.M.D. earlier was fucking sexy."

"Is that right?" Simone questioned, biting her bottom lip. Without breaking eye contact, she spread her legs as far as she could manage in the chair, causing Miguel to be the one to break the staring contest first. 

"How about we play a little game." He said, tone making this sound more like a demand than a request. Simone felt her throat grow dry and could only manage a nod to accept. "Say it, cariño." 

"Okay." She spoke through the hoarseness, feeling her panties grow damp. She watched as he backed up from her and retook his seat on the couch, leaning back without prying his eyes away. 

"Stand up for me," Miguel told her, and Simone did as he said without a second thought. He gave her a once-over, not knowing much about the Wu-Tang logo dawned on her oversized t-shirt, but deciding he wanted to see her gray sweatpants come off first. "Take those off." He ordered, gesturing to the trousers. 

Simone was intrigued by the direction this game of Simon Says was taking, so she slowly slipped the pants down her thighs before they dropped to her ankles. Once they were kicked away, all that remained on her lower half were the pale pink underwear she put on simply for comfort, not style. 

Knowing they weren't the sexiest selection of undies, she tucked her thumbs into the waistband to take them off, as well. The short hairs on her pelvis were exposed for a split second before Miguel put his hand in the air. "Not quite yet." He stopped her. 

The elastic snapped back to her skin as she removed her thumbs, thinking back to how eagerly they were removed before. As she awaited her next task, she smoothed her hands over her bare thighs, attempting to iron out the goosebumps that scattered across her skin from the air's chill and red steel stare from the man before her.

Without another word, Miguel sat up on the cushion, bringing himself closer to the edge as he separated his left thigh from his right. Simone looked on with curiosity as he waved his hand at her in a come hither motion, then patted his thigh with the same hand. A wordless command that spoke volumes of what he had in mind.

Simone took a couple steps forward before turning to sit but was stopped in her tracks again by Miguel's big hands on her hips. "Not like that." He said, correcting her by maneuvering her back to face him. He brought her forward, placing his knee between her legs, and guided her body down.

His jeans grew tighter around his crotch as he felt the heat of her cunt through the denim. As much as he wanted to feel her wrapped around him, he needed this just as badly. It was something he had fantasized about when alone, and seeing as he couldn't fuck her to completion earlier, then with all the chaos that followed, he needed to watch her use him. 

Simone looked at him with her big doe eyes needily as her swollen nub rested on his muscular thigh. She knew she had to wait for the word before acting, so she waited patiently while the pads of his fingers explored her skin.

More tendrils rose as his palms went up her shirt, admiring every valley, bump, curve, crevasse, and scar that resided on the otherwise soft skin. From there, he pulled her forward, folding his mouth into hers. His tastebuds tickled the roof of her mouth as he felt around the area he had become intimately familiar with. 

"Go ahead," He whispered to her plainly. Simone didn't waste a second before rocking her hips, introducing much-needed pressure and friction to her achy clit. Soft, sheepish moans fell between them as Miguel's hands kneaded her breasts, and lips grazed her jaw.

Every bit of stress from the day disappeared as she rutted. At that moment, her focus was solely on the man she saw through fluttering eyelids and the encouraging words he whispered to her. 

"That's it, mi conejito. Don't stop." The new pet name buzzed in her mind, essentially calling her his bunny. She never thought she'd like being called that until right then. 

Her skin felt hot as her hips rolled faster, her panties entirely slick now as she braced her arms on Miguel's shoulders, riding like her life depended on it. She needed this so bad if anything else stopped her from climaxing tonight, she would surely scream. 

"Go on. I wanna see you come."

Miguel's member was painful as he watched her come undone, finally seeing her without a thought in her mind for the first time all night. He felt her wetness seeping through the fabric of his pants as she writhed and shivered, gutturally groaning through the intense orgasm. 

"Was that what you wanted?" He asked, smoothing his hands around her back, rubbing circles as she came back down with heavy breaths. A slight grin appeared over her slack lips, but no words came out as she reached between their bodies and unbuttoned his pants. 

His body twitched as he felt Simone's hand reach into his boxers and wrap gently around his cock to release it from the binds of the fabric. She gave it one solid pump between her fingers, admiring him as his head rolled on his shoulders in ecstasy of finally feeling something.

He's just too goddamn pretty. Simone thought to herself as she raised from her spot on his thigh to remove the half-wedgied panties and gave them a small toss. They landed on his chest, nearly on his chin, and he picked them up to examine as she retrieved a rubber from her overnight bag.

Running his thumb over the slickness that gathered on the cotton, his cock twitched again. He wanted to feel her fully, relish in her wetness, and leave his mark inside her, but she would never go for it. Simone was far too careful to let him in bare. 

Miguel had asked once before in a moment of weakness, desperately wanting to recreate his fantasy of filling her up, exploding deep inside her, but she declined. At least, now he knew why she refused. Though, he would like to say he would pull out if it meant finally slipping in her tight, soaked core-

I couldn't control myself. 

When Simone finally had the condom secured over his cock, she straddled his lap and lined herself up for entry, feeling a bit giddy to ride him. As she slid down his length, she tried to stay as quiet as possible, listening to the breathy fuck that expelled from Miguel's lips, feeling her stretch and hug him. 

He had waited hours to have her wrapped around him again and felt so desperate to come that he thought he would right then and there as she squeezed and relaxed her muscles, adjusting beautifully as always. 

Simone braced her hands on his shoulders as she started rocking her hips, dipping her head back as she groaned with pleasure again. Miguel held her hips tightly, digging his fingertips into the soft meat between her tummy and thighs. 

"You feel so good, cariño." He whispered weakly. She loved to hear it. Though Miggy might not know it, her goal wasn't to finish a second time but to milk his dick like it never had been before. She would make him crumble at her fingertips if it was the last thing she did.

"Yeah? You like my pussy, Miguel?" She spoke, attempting to keep a solid but sultry tone as the tip of his cock pushed against her favorite spot upon raising her hips. Her saying his name made him feel the wind leave his lungs, and he couldn't respond clearly but gave his best yes through a croak. 

Simone knew he was putty in her hands. "You like the way I squeeze your cock?" She spoke again. This time, he could only manage a frantic nod as she rose to his tip and slammed herself back down to his base. Her pace had quickened, and he was far too mesmerized to focus on lasting much longer. 

It was clear he was close. If the motion alone wasn't enough, the thought of his cock crying inside of her and the way he was acting was pushing her closer to her own high. Miguel's throat bobbed as he swallowed just enough saliva to form a sentence. 

"Fuck, I'm gonna come soon if you keep doing that." He warned, referring to her tightening and releasing of his length. Her core coiled further at his words and the quiet squeak of the sofa under her knees.

God, I'm counting on it. She thought as she fucked herself faster on his cock, grinding it in and out. 

Miguel's half-closed eyes focused heavily on her bouncing tits, hard nipples showing even though the black shirt and unconcealed by the logo of the... band? He still wasn't sure and didn't have the brainpower to think about it right then. His eyes flicked up to Simone's as another series of sinful moans slipped through her teeth. Her juices coated his balls, giving him an idea of what her hole must feel like right then.

That thought alone about did him in. 

"Oh, god, Simone." He said helplessly and involuntarily. She had never seen him like this, but fuck was it doing it for her. Her thighs burned from the constant movement, but she ignored it, pumping him in and out with no rhyme or reason to the motions anymore. The peak was right there, burning brightly and finally.

"Come with me, Miguel. Come with me!" She commanded, and like a spell, it happened. He gripped her ass and forced her hips roughly flush with his, feeling her cunt convulse around him as he shot his warmth into the condom, convinced it was enough to cause it to burst.

She cried out loudly at the pressure releasing in her gut and rutted herself as best she could, riding out her orgasm as Miguel writhed under her, chest rising and falling rapidly and breathing loudly. 

She collapsed forward and hugged herself to his body as they came down, relaxing to the feeling of his palm rubbing circles around her back under her shirt.

"So, what's a Wu-Tang?" Miguel finally asked through shallow breaths. Simone chuckled slightly, unsure if the question was meant to be serious. Hearing the sound made Miguel realize that this was one of those things where he didn't know about some significant part of pop culture, and he decided not to ask again.

She gathered herself on wobbly legs to step into the bathroom, still amused by the question and figuring he just had an insightful moment about where the group got their name. After all, there was no way anyone in their thirties hadn't heard of Wu-Tang Clan.

Miguel stood from the couch to dispose of the used rubber in his kitchen bin as Simone used his bathroom, feeling satisfied with how that went down, even if he did feel a bit powerless and at her mercy. It was unfamiliar. 

"Good evening, Miguel. Have you been working out? Your heart rate is registerin-" Lyla popped in from his watch, seemingly loudly, and he pressed his palm over the hologram. 

"Not now!" He bit, trying not to raise his voice above a whisper and hoping Simone didn't hear that through the thin walls. She seemingly had not, as he listened to the toilet flush and the bathroom door swing open behind him.

"My body's exhausted." She said before making a B-line to her backpack. She shuffled through the few belongings she packed, looking for her phone charger, and quickly realized she had forgotten it at her place. "Fuck."

"Missing something?" Miguel asked. 

"My charger. I can't let my phone die, have to be up for work in the morning." She explained. Miggy took a look at his phone and shrugged,

"Just use mine. I have a spare." 

Simone sighed with relief, thinking about how he had an extra charger but only three-ish pieces of furniture in his apartment. 

"Really? No offense, but it doesn't seem like you have a spare... anything."

As Miguel looked around his sparsely decorated home, he couldn't help but laugh at the comment and shake his head,

"You're right. When I moved in, I didn't expect to stay very long." He admitted. 

Clearly, that changed. I wonder why. Simone thought to herself, not wanting to pry further. She looked through the door in front of her at the full-sized bed and realized she was in a pickle:

Take the pills and risk the dreams, or get no sleep. Simone weighed both options, realizing how heavy her shoulders felt on her body. She desperately wanted to get some shut-eye before her appointments tomorrow, but her brain wouldn't let her sleep if she tried. She owed it to her patients to be fully charged, which meant taking the sleeping assisters. 

What's the worst that could happen?

[agustdakasuga]

Between the Bloodshed | Chapter 13

Genre: Mafia!AU, Angst, Romance, Fluff

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Characters: Doctor!Reader, Gangster!Namjoon, Gangster!Seokjin, Gangster!Yoongi, Gangster!Hoseok, Gangster!Jimin, Gangster!Taehyung, Gangster!Jungkook

Summary: Being a freelance doctor, this was just supposed to be any other job, helping a private client and taking care of him through his recovery. But you were not expecting to get caught in something so much darker that would change your life entirely.

It’s finally time to head to Florida. Your aim is to relax by the beach, forget whatever happened in Korea and reset your brain. The boys also have some important things to tell you. 

Warning: This story is fictional and has nothing to do with real life events or the actual members of BTS. It may contain depictions of violence, blood shed/ gore and mentions of abuse. Please read at your own discretion.

“Yes, omma. I’ll be home in time for oppa’s arrival.” You sighed, standing by your window as you spoke to your mother. You were leaving for Florida tonight but she seemed more worried that you wouldn’t be around when your brother and heavily pregnant sister in law arrived. 

“I’m not a gynaecologist. The only thing I’ll do is look after Jisung.” Your nephew was the only one you could tolerate.

“Bye, omma.” You cut her off, hanging up. You planned to turn off your phone while you travelled as well. Someone cleared their throat from behind you and you jumped slightly, turning around. 

“Busy?” Namjoon asked. 

“Yes- Wait, I mean, no. What’s up?” You forced a smile, tucking your phone into the pocket of your lab coat. 

“You said you have a list of medical supplies that you wanted to order?” He reminded. You facepalmed, forgetting to print the list out to pass to Namjoon last night. 

“Hang on a sec, I’ll print it out.” You sat at your desk, going on your computer. Namjoon just patiently sat opposite you. You retrieved your document that you typed out a few days ago and clicked on the print button. The button whirled to life, starting to feed the document out. You sighed, rubbing your temples as you waited for it. 

“Family stress?” Namjoon chuckled. 

“You already know... Her star child is coming home and her second grandchild is about to be born soon. She’s ecstatic.” You scoff. 

“I hope you enjoy this break then. Before you have to deal with all the bullsh*t when we get back.” Namjoon smiled, his dimple popping through. He was so genuine, you felt yourself melt. 

“Thanks, Joon. I think we all need a break.” You handed him the paper. 

“Right. When do you need these?” He waved the paper in the air. You shrugged, a sign that it wasn’t important. 

“Alright. Make sure you packed everything.” Namjoon ruffled your hair before leaving. You turned around in your chair, putting your feet on top of the desk, something your mother always scolded you for. 

“(y/n)!” Your door burst open, hitting the adjacent door with a loud sound. You jumped to your feet immediately. 

“What-” You yelped when Jimin grabbed your waist, clearly using you as his human shield. You blinked in confusion, until Taehyung and Hoseok ran in with water guns in your hands, cackling. Your eyes widened as the nozzles were somehow pointing at you now. 

“YAH! I DARE YOU!” You threatened. 

“Save me!” Jimin said between giggles. You slapped his hands away from your hips, making him whimper. 

“What are you guys doing?” Jungkook stopped by the door, blinking. At the maknae’s presence, Hoseok and Taehyung turned to face their guns at him. Jungkook jumped with a yelp, ducking behind the wall. 

“Let’s go.” Jimin whispered, sliding open the glass door that led to the garden from your office. 

“What about Jung-”

“Forget him. We need to save ourselves.” Jimin grabbed your hand, seeing the two still aiming at Jungkook. With a tug, he pulled you out with him, escaping Taehyung and Hoseok. From behind you, you heard a loud scream that most probably came from Hoseok. All you could say was, that’s what you get for going against Jungkook. 

“Park Jimin!” You heard Taehyung screech. 

“Run!” Jimin abandoned you, running away in a different direction. Your eyes widened, obviously you threatening Taehyung wasn’t going to work. 

“YOONGLES!” Your eyes caught sight of the pale man, walking back into the house, a book tucked under his arm. Yoongi turned around just to see you running towards him. 

“HELP!” You ducked behind him. 

“What?!” He hissed, dropping the book and taking his gun out from his holster, aiming at whoever was after you. When Taehyung ran over, he froze. 

“H-Hey hyung, we’re just playing. No need to get all serious.” Taehyung stepped back when he saw the pistol in Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi sighed, lowering his gun to put it back into the holster. He turned around, looking at you. 

“In my opinion, I was doing my work when they came and threatened me. I was in real danger.” You shrugged. 

“Yah, leave her alone. She’s working.” Yoongi scolded Taehyung. Taehyung pouted, lowering his water gun. No way would any of them dare to shoot Yoongi, unless they had a death sentence. He ran off to chase Jimin instead. Yoongi shook his head, picking his book up from the ground. 

“Thanks, Yoonie!” You saluted with a grin. 

“As thank you, I’m going to eat your last slice of cheesecake in the fridge.” He said, walking back into the house. Your jaw dropped slightly. 

“B-But... That’s mine! You can’t take it! Min Yoongi! Don’t you dare touch my cheesecake!” You chased after him. Yoongi just smiled to himself, shaking his head slightly. 

The rest of the day was quiet until it was time to leave. You were waiting in the living room, playing with Kookie. 

“I wish you could come with us, Kookie.” You rubbed his ears. Behind you, the boys were all scrambling for last minute items that they forgot to pack. 

“What are we going to do with them, huh?” You held Kookie up, adjusting him in your lap. You yawned, waiting for the chaos to be over. There was Namjoon tripping over Jungkook’s luggage, Yoongi and Jungkook squabbling over underwear, Jin just packing everything but the kitchen sink with Taehyung stopping him and Hoseok scolding Jimin for making a mess. 

“Uh, young masters... The cars are ready when you’re ready to leave.” The butler spoke. 

“I’m ready to leave.” You stood up. The maids brought your bags out to the awaiting cars. You kissed Kookie goodbye before handing him to the butler who would be caring for him in your absence. 

“Take care of him.” You smiled. 

“I will, agashi. Don’t worry.” He bowed his head. You nodded and headed out to the vans. The driver opened the door for you to enter. 

“Think you could leave without us?” Hoseok opened the door with a grin, entering to seat behind you. 

“You guys take way too long.” You scoffed, looking out the window. Namjoon climbs into the other back seat while Yoongi takes the seat beside you in the second row. From your tinted window, you see Taehyung and Jimin climbing into one van while Jungkook and Jin climb into the other. 

“I can’t wait to get on the plane to sleep.” Hoseok stretched his arms with a loud yawn. You nodded in agreement, pulling your hoodie up. The vans pulled up to the VIP entrance of Incheon airport. 

“Right this way, young masters.” The doors opened for you and suited males grabbed your suitcases for you. 

“Stay close.” Jin said, making you grab his arm to avoid straying away from him. 

“Let’s check in.” Namjoon rounded everyone up, giving their passports to the lady, along with yours. You all verified your names and the tickets were issued. From the looks of it, you would all be flying first class. 

“I can’t afford first class. I’ll sit in coach.” You crossed your arms. 

“As if we would let you sit in coach. You may be stubborn doc but you haven’t seen all 7 of us at once.” Jimin challenged. You rolled your eyes, receiving your passport back with your ticket tucked in. When all the luggages were checked in, one of the managers escorted the 8 of you to the private lounge to wait. There were only 5 other people in there, minding their own business. 

“I’m hungry!” Jungkook declared, pulling you up with him to head to the buffet table. You sighed but let yourself be dragged away. 

“Koo, don’t get indigestion.” You told him as you held a plate for him to pile food on. On his dessert plate, you grabbed one of his mini cream puffs, placing it into your mouth. 

“Hey! Get your own!” Jungkook pouted. 

“Then hold your own plate, Jeon Jungkook.” You glared. After he was done, you placed his plates on his table. 

“You didn’t get any for yourself?” Taehyung asked. 

“I was merely a plate holder.” You scoffed. Taehyung laughed, following you back out to get some snacks for yourself. You only took some fruits and water, planes making you feel bloated if you ate too much. 

“Thanks, Tae.” You said, sitting back down. You ate some from the plate in your lap until Jimin leaned over with his mouth open, wanting a piece. 

“Here.” You fed him a halved strawberry. Yoongi was comfortably settled in his seat, enjoying a short nap. Jungkook went for a second round of food, this time bringing Hoseok along with him. Namjoon had his iPad perched on his lap, typing away with a small frown on his face. 

“Frowning is going to get you wrinkles, Joon.” You chuckled, reaching across to give him a piece of watermelon. He shot you a grateful smile before closing his iPad to eat what you offered.

“We should head to the gate.” Jin rounded everyone up. Jungkook stuffed whatever food he could into his mouth before walking with you. 

“Don’t choke. Chew slowly, you big baby.” You patted his back, urging him to chew slowly. 

“Welcome aboard.” The crew greeted you at the door, the flight manager escorted you to the first class cabin. You settled in your comfy seat, realising that Namjoon sat on the other side of the partition. 

“Seat buddy.” You grinned, shooting finger guns at him. He chuckled, shaking his head as the flight attendant placed a champagne flute before him. 

“Mr Kim, we have made sure that you have the entire first class cabin, as per your request. So please be assured that there is optimum privacy for you and your family to roam when the seat belt sign is off.” The manager told Jin, who nodded his head in approval. The flight attendants handed out pre-flight drinks and the menu. 

“You guys can’t be serious. Booking the whole first class cabin?” You rolled your eyes. 

“It’s for privacy, doc.” Namjoon said, flipping through his newspaper. Once the safety demo was done by the flight attendants, the plane took off. You had your headphones on, playing music as you read your book. 

“Are you just going to read?” Jimin asked. You nodded your head and he pouted, sighing in annoyance. 

“I’m gonna sleep too.” You added. 

PING!

The seatbelt sign turned off. Yoongi had the flight attendant turn his seat into a bed, his figure curled under the blanket, ready to sleep. Hoseok was watching a show on his iPad while Jin was snacking. 

“Yah, don’t disturb him.” You chided Taehyung and Jimin, who were trying to disturb a sleeping Jungkook. He hadn’t even lowered his seat, still in an upright position with his neck  tilted down. That was gonna cause some pain when he woke up. 

“Let me lower his seat.” You unbuckled your seatbelt, heading over and pressing the button so he would be in a more comfortable position. 

“You’re starting to baby him.” Taehyung clicked his tongue. 

“I baby Yoongles too, he just pretends to hate it.” You shrugged, adjusting Jungkook’s blanket and fluffing the pillow under his head. Jungkook remained asleep, even when you moved his head. 

“Boring.” Jimin took his switch out, challenging Taehyung in a game. You just turned back to your book. 

“Never thought I’d see the day. You, the fierce doctor, admitting that you care and baby the boys.” Namjoon chuckled from beside you, neatly folding his newspapers and setting it aside. 

“Jungkook’s the youngest and Yoongi can only use one arm. I’m not that heartless, Joon.” You scoffed. Namjoon held his hands up in defence and you rolled your eyes. Taking out your laptop, you began to type out notes that you made from reading your book. You were learning more efficient ways to stabilise fatal injuries such as stabbings or gunshot wounds. 

“Take a break, doc. Stop learning how to kill us.” Hoseok joked. 

“I don’t need to learn what I already know.” You spoke, not looking up from your screen as you typed. 

“Oh doc, you’re just so comical.” Jin chuckled. 

“I try my best.” You raised your eyebrows. Soon, the flight attendants came around to give out menus for the inflight meals. You hummed as you flipped through the selection. 

“What do you fancy?” Namjoon asked. 

“Salad and soup.” You shrugged. Meanwhile, the boys were ordering their steaks and pasta, filling up until they were full and satisfied. 

“The appetite you guys have never fail to amuse me.” You snorted. Yoongi, who was picking and tearing his butter roll, nodded in agreement. You didn’t need to eat much, watching the boys eat their hefty portions was enough to make you feel full.

“Did I miss lunch?!” Jungkook exclaimed. 

“Right on time. We just finished up.” Taehyung chuckled, wiping his mouth with the napkin. While the flight attendants served desserts, Jungkook ordered his huge main course. 

“Can I have some sparkling water?” You ordered after finishing your fruit plate. The flight attendant gave you a weird look but Namjoon cleared his throat, making her jump and scurry off to fulfil your water. 

“You know, ordering something without intimidation would be nice to try for once.” You scoffed. 

“You deserve to be waited on, doc. Not be given attitude from the likes of people like her.” Namjoon sipped his wine. Yoongi, who had a glass of whiskey, nodded in agreement. You sighed as the flight attendant placed the glass of sparkling water down on your side table. She bowed her head to you, keeping her head down before leaving. 

-

“Young masters, agashi. Welcome.” The entire staff lined up before the huge beach house, bowing as you all stepped out of the vans. 

“Get the bags. I hope doc’s room has been prepared like we instructed.” Namjoon ordered and they bowed, rushing to unload all the bags and bring them in. You followed the boys in, carrying your airplane bag with you. 

“Agashi, allow me to show you your room.” A maid bowed and you gave a backwards wave to the boys, following her up. Your room had a balcony facing the sea. 

“It’s beautiful.” You noted. 

“If there is anything, please do not hesitate to let me know. The other members of staff will be up with your belongings shortly.” She bowed. 

“Thank you.” You smiled. She looked a little shocked. 

“I-It’s no problem, agashi. Have a nice rest.” She bowed again before leaving. Once the door closed, you threw your bag aside, falling back onto the comfy bed. You let out a sigh of bliss, staring at the ceiling. Standing up, you headed to the small balcony attached to your room. 

“(y/n)!” Jimin poked his head out from his room window to wave at you. You chuckled, sending a small wave back. 

*KNOCK KNOCK*

“Come in.” You turned around to see two butlers with your bags. 

“Thank you. You can set them over here.” You directed them. After stacking your bags neatly, they bowed and left you alone. You took your time to unpack your things into the cupboards and closet provided. 

“(y/n)! Let’s go swimming!” The youngest 3 burst into your room, the door slamming into the adjacent wall loudly. 

“Yah, you guys need to learn how to knock.” You scolded. 

“Come on!” 

“Guys, we just got here. Let me unpack and RELAX!” You shoved all 3 of them out of your room, slamming the door shut and locking it. You sighed, shaking your head at their protests. Humming, you continued to unpack your things at your own pace. After you were done, you looked out the window and saw the boys playing in the water, splashing around. 

‘I’m outside your door. - Yoongi’

Your phone buzzed. You frowned in confusion at the sudden text, going to open your room door. Yoongi stood there, in black board shorts and a black linen shirt. The first two buttons were undone, revealing his pale skin. 

“Not a fan of the sun, Mr Cullen?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“I’m just here to bring you to the beach.” He sighed. You nodded, going into the bathroom to change into some lighter clothes. 

“Let’s go!” You hooked arms with him. As usual, Yoongi didn’t pull away from you. You walked out the doors and down the back porch, revealing the big beach area.

“Woah.” 

“Don’t worry about the public, this is our private beach.” Jin walked over with a plate of sandwiches. 

“I was never worried about the public but thanks.” You picked up a sandwich, going to sit on one of the lawn chairs. Yoongi took the seat beside you, leaning back with a glass of wine in his hand. With a wave of his hand, the butler offered you a glass as well, placing it on the tiny table. 

“Aren’t you going to swim?” You asked Yoongi. 

“Don’t like the water.” He scoffed. Those that were playing in the water ran up towards you and Yoongi, who didn’t even notice. Suddenly, you yelped as you were being hoisted in the air. 

“Taehyung!” You squealed, wrapping your arms around his neck. He chuckled, running towards the ocean. 

“And I can’t believe you let them rope you into this, Namjoon!” You hissed. The leader just shrugged, crossing his arms as he watched in amusement.

“Kim Taehyung, if you drop me into this water, I’ll make sure you regret it.” You threatened. Jungkook and Jimin waved their hands, encouraging their brother to just dunk you. 

“You know I stay true to my words!” You screamed as a final resort. 

“I’ll save you!” Hoseok ran over with a super soaker water gun. Taehyung jumped in shock, letting go of you. 

“Tae-” You fell into the water. You stood up, entire being wet. Even with the water to your hips, your glare was scary enough to send the boys running to shore. You ran after them while they scattered away. But of course, them being mafiosos, they were able to escape quickly. You couldn’t chase after them so you went for the next best thing.

“Yoongles!” You laid over Yoongi. 

“Yah!” Yoongi cringed as you wet his clothes with your own damp ones. You grinned at him. 

“This is gonna be a fun vacation, isn’t it Yoonie?” You said sweetly, making Yoongi groaned and roll his eyes. 

~~

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[hogarthwrites]

house sitting for two chapter 17

chapters:

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 16 pairing: Sam Drake/Reader (m/f) genre: smut, slow romance, mutual pining warnings: graphic sex, alcohol words: 2,901 summary: You're unsure about dating someone else and it makes you guilty about still being in love. You make your mind up when you run into a certain someone one night.

Sam and Sully had gone to Las Vegas. “Just because,” Sam reasoned. He needed to forget how empty he felt whenever it was nighttime and he was lonely in bed.

Instead, he and Sully gambled, outsmarting each other in their own games. At the end of the night, Sam would go to the nearest bar to drink. That’s where he was reunited with Victoria, an old flame he had just before Panama.

Victoria – or Vix – as he called her, was a nice enough woman. She was as loud as he remembered her and he genuinely did have fun with her, and there was an understanding between them: it was just sex.

He'd take her to his RV every night, and every single time he fucked her, he thought of you. As he dug his fingers into the soft skin of her hips, he closed his eyes, imagining you, drowning out the sounds of her moans. He couldn't understand how he became so attached to you but no other person.

It was then the telephone started ringing. Sam sighed, considering his options. He wasn't close yet and he wasn't in a hurry so he got up and hobbled to the phone.

“Yeah?” Sam leaned against the wall, expecting it to be Sully calling from his five-star hotel room, but there was no response.

“Come on, Sam, don't keep me waiting,” Victoria whined. “I was so close.”

“Just a second,” he turned away from her. “Hello? Hello?”

The line cut out, leaving Sam confused. Must've been a wrong number.

He drove Sully back to California the next day, feeling a little sad about being back in Paso Robles. It didn't stop him from looking around as he drove, hoping to get a glance of you – that is, if you stayed in the area.

“I've gotta say that was the first Vegas trip I've been on where I haven't made any life altering decisions,” Sully mused. “Hell, that was the mildest experience I've had.”

“Jeez, Victor, sorry I made it lame,” Sam joked. Deep down they knew they were too old to get shit faced drunk and make horrible decisions just after a few nights in Las Vegas.

“Ah, maybe next time,” Sully picked up his bags as Sam parked in front of his mid-century style home. “What's next for Samuel Drake?”

“Uh,” Sam thought. “Gonna visit a special lady named Irene, then hopefully my business partner can find another job for us.”

“Oh, Irene,” Sully chuckled.

“Ah, so you know her,” Sam smiled.

“The ‘70’s were a wild time, Sam,” Sully winked, confirming yours and Sam’s suspicions.

“Well, good for you, Victor. She's still single, just so you know.”

“Right,” Sully laughed. “Hey, maybe you should go up to Los Angeles, just see the sights. Weather’s nice this time of the year.”

Huh , Sam thought to himself. He hasn't been in LA in years. It won't hurt to stop by.

“Sure, Victor. I'll send you a postcard.”

“There's an open house this weekend,” Stephen said over the phone. “I hope you understand.”

“Yeah, I'm totally cool with it.” You lay in the hammock of your backyard, smoking a cigarette and mindlessly scrolled through social media. Sam was always on your Instagram, giving you just a glimmer of hope.

“I'll call as much as I can. I love you.”

You paused, chewing on you lip. “I'll see you soon, Steve.”

You felt the tiniest pang of guilt as you felt a bit of relief to be away from Stephen for two weeks. As much as you tried, you couldn't love him. Sam was still in your mind and everytime you had sex with Stephen, you thought about Sam. It just didn't feel as good.

It didn't stop you from being racked with guilt. You didn't want to be with Stephen, but you didn't want to be lonely.

I'm a horrible person and I had the audacity to call Sam a selfish bastard, you let out an angry puff of smoke. Maybe we are a lot more alike than I thought.

You groaned as you slid off the hammock hanging on your back porch and padded your way into your kitchen to get a drink. The silence was overwhelming while you poured yourself a glass of orange juice.

You retired to your room and climbed into your cold, empty bed. You hated the silence. You missed Sam’s voice as he talked on and on about something that excited him.

You read and reread the letter he wrote you in the hospital. It was short but it was enough to make you miss him every time.

I'm sorry. No one's ever done anything like that for me and I feel horrible. Please get better. I'll make you pancakes like I promised long ago.

I love you,

Sam

The landline phone caught your attention. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to hear his voice just for a bit.

You hastily got up and walked to the phone, mind racing as you picked up the receiver. You assured yourself it was fine and that Sam never had a caller ID.

Here goes, you held your breath as you dialed his number, dreading the ringing tones.

It kept ringing and you were scared it'll go to voicemail, but after a while, Sam finally picked up.

“Yeah?” He was out of breath.

Just that one word made your heart leap. You opened your mouth to say something when you heard someone in the background.

“Come on, Sam, don't keep me waiting,” a woman said in a sultry voice. “I was so close.”

“Just a second,” Sam called out. “Hello? Hello?”

You hung up. That was a terrible idea.

Irene was overjoyed to see Sam, peppering his face in kisses.

“Oh, you've grown so tall!” She joked. “It's so nice to see you, Sam.”

“You know I can't stay away from my favourite weed lady,” he chuckled.

“Are you staying long?”

“Nah, just dropping by to say ‘hi’.”

“Well ‘hi’ to you too,” she smiled.

She gave him a pan of banana bread (and some weed) before he left, asking if he ever got to see you. He wished he did.

You lay on the floor of your living room, music blasting on the stereo as you had a pity party. You had to end things with Stephen as the guilt was becoming too much for you to bear.

You had put the ring back on, staring at it as you held your hand up. You needed a drink.

The fluorescent lights of the store were a little too bright for you and you trudged to the fridge, ignoring the guy manning the cashier.

“You look like shit again,” he remarked.

“‘Kay, thanks for the input, Troy,” you muttered. Asshole.

You grabbed a few bottles of beer, hugging them to your chest. Just another Friday night.

“Sorry, I need a pack of cigarettes… Or two,” you heard a familiar voice. You peeked behind a shelf of condoms.

It was Sam. What the hell is he doing in LA and in this particular store too?

Fuck. You began to panic, glancing down at yourself. The grey sweatpants and your stained DIY shirt you painted years ago wasn’t the most flattering outfit and it didn't help that your hair was a mess.

You wanted him to just go, but through your panicked state, you dropped one of the bottles in your arms, catching Sam’s attention.

“Y/N?” He looked at you curiously.

“Heyy, Sam,” you sheepishly stepped away from the mess on the floor.

“Clean up on aisle two,” Troy mumbled, grabbing the broom and a mop.

“Sorry, I'll pay for that,” you tiptoed past him.

“No, I'll pay for it,” Sam looked at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Your heart leaped when you met his gentle eyes. “That's a lot of bottles.”

“TGIF, right?” You awkwardly laughed. Idiot.

“Can't argue with that,” Sam smiled.

Troy totalled up yours and Sam’s purchases after a lot of whining. Sam helped you carry your bottles of beer.

“Where ya heading?” He asked.

“Home. It's not too far from here.”

“Come on, I'll give you a lift,” he nudged you.

“No, it's fine,” you shook your head.

“You don't wanna see my snazzy new tiny home?”

“Tiny home,” you chuckled. “Yeah, sure I'd love to see it.”

Sam had a nice little RV with his motorcycle secured on it. It wasn't too fancy inside; his books were neatly organised on a small shelf by the sofa/dining area, the plants you left him on a box by the window, and a large bed in the back with just a curtain for privacy.

“Wow,” you looked around. “What made you wanna get an RV?”

“Eh, just wanted to be able to move around easier,” he shrugged as he sat in the driver's seat. “It's not permanent, but it's been alright so far.”

You took the seat next to him, fastening your seatbelt.

“Where to?” Sam asked.

“Its just a few blocks away. Go west.”

It was supposed to be a short drive, but it felt longer to you. You didn't know what to say and neither did Sam, just Spandau Ballet softly playing on the radio filling in the silence.

“So,” Sam cleared his throat. “LA… Why? You planning on being in Hollywood?”

You shrugged. “I've always lived in smaller towns, I thought a bigger city might be an experience.”

“Right,” he nodded. “Do you like it?”

“It's been alright,” you shrugged again. “I haven't gotten around to exploring as much. Oh, it's just here.”

You pointed at the one-story Spanish revival house you've been staying in. Sam parked in front and you picked up your paper bag, heavy with the bottles.

“Let me help you with that,” Sam reached out, his hand touching your arm. It was enough to make you feel hot all over.

He locked eyes with you and for a moment, you thought he was leaning in to kiss you. You instinctively closed your eyes, waiting, but nothing happened.

When you opened your eyes, Sam was holding the paper bag and walking towards the door.

Oh, you were disappointed. What was I expecting?

He walked you to the door, his eyes on you the entire time.

“I missed you,” he said, making your heart leap again.

“Sam,” you looked up at him as you reached your door.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I just… Couldn't get you out of my mind in months, I had to say it.”

“I missed you too,” you softly said.

This time, you felt his lips on yours, and you instinctively kissed him back. There were butterflies in your stomach, but the moment didn't last.

Sam stepped back, his face a little flushed. You felt your cheeks heat up as well.

He held out the paper bag to you. “Um, good night.”

“Good night…” You whispered as he turned to go back to his RV. “Sam, wait–”

He looked back, and you walked towards him.

“You can park in my driveway for the night… Or however long you're going to stay here.”

“I don't want to be a burden–”

“What? Sam, it's me. I…” You bit your lip. “I want you here. Maybe we can hang out.”

“Okay,” he smiled.

You took a deep breath as you closed your door behind you, your heart still racing. Sam kissed you and for the first time in months, you felt… Happy?

You placed the bottles in your fridge, no longer interested in drinking them, then changed into cleaner clothes for bed. You peeked out your window and saw the lights were still on in his RV.

You wanted to go to him, to kiss him more, to hold him again, but you thought of Stephen. True, he wasn't your boyfriend officially, but he trusted you. But still…

You found yourself in front of Sam’s door, and as you were about to knock, Sam opened the door.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

You stood, staring at each other as if you both couldn't believe it. Sam pulled you into his arms, and you kissed him, wrapping your legs around his waist as he carried you in, closing the door behind him with his foot.

He sat you on the table, his hands sliding down to your ass.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his lips moving down to your neck.

You sighed as he left cool kisses on the hot skin of your neck. He pulled you close and you wrapped your legs around his waist again.

“Sam,” you whispered as he began lifting your shirt.

“What–what is it?” He rested his forehead on yours.

“Should we be doing this?” You asked, trailing your finger down his chest.

Sam kissed you. “I don't know, but it feels so right.”

Your shirt and your shorts were discarded somewhere around his RV and Sam had your legs over his shoulders as he kneeled in front of the table. He gave your clit a few licks, his eyes on yours the entire time.

“God, I missed this view,” you ran your fingers through his hair.

“What, your new boyfriend doesn't eat you out?” He gave you a smug smirk.

“He’s not my boyf–”

Sam continued licking your clit, closing his eyes as he pushed his face further against your pussy. It was getting too much for you and you tugged at his hair.

“More, Sam, more,” you moaned.

You felt him smile against you as he began sucking on your clit softly, switching between sucking and licking. You bucked your hips against him but he held you down.

Sam gave a satisfied hum as you came, your thighs squeezing his head.

“How was that?” He stood up, leaning over you on the table. It was then you noticed that he was still fully dressed, but the tent in his grey sweatpants was hard to ignore.

“I think I've been missing out on Samuel Drake,” you chuckled.

He pulled you up and carried you to the bed bridal style.

“Wait, Sam,” you sat up as he climbed over you.

“What?”

“I've been having sex.”

He blinked at you. “So?”

“And you have too, I assume?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “So?”

You pushed him away. “So put a condom on.”

Sam gave you an amused smile. “You know you're the only person I've never had safe sex with.”

“Good to know,” you stuck your tongue out. “But put one on.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, standing up.

Sam held the condom up before climbing on top of you to kiss you. “Happy?”

You took off his shirt and he climbed out of his sweatpants, cock glistening with precum. It was enough to get you wet.

He ripped the condom packet open and slipped it on with ease. Sam gave you soft, sweet kisses as he began pushing inside you.

You both gasped at the sensation, Sam had his lip pinned between his teeth as he pushed deep inside you. He began to thrust slowly and gently cupping your cheek.

“Harder,” you whispered, desperate for more.

Sam groaned as he began pounding into you, his hands sliding up your body to cup your breasts. He kissed you hard as he collapsed on top of you, rolling over so you were on top of him.

“I wanna see you,” he said, moving your hips against his. “I wanna see you fucking me.”

You placed your hands against the headboard, bouncing on his cock. You moaned out his name loudly; something you've been wanting to do for months. It felt so good to finally have him under you and all you wanted was to make him feel good, to make up for all the lost time.

Sam pulled you in to kiss you, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I missed you too,” you sighed between kisses.

“I forgot how good you feel,” he kissed your neck.

His hands slid down to your ass, spreading then as he rammed his hips up against yours. You grabbed at the pillow at his head, crying out loud. His finger dipped into your asshole and you moaned out.

The dual sensation was enough to make you cum, and Sam wasn’t far behind. He kissed you hard as he came, holding you close.

You were breathless as you rolled off him and he took the condom off, dunking it into the trash.

The bed dipped as he climbed back in, lying on his back next to you.

“Wanna see something cool?” Sam smiled.

He pressed a button and the rather large sunroof opened up, letting in more of the moonlight and the dim streetlights.

“Oh, that is cool,” you grinned. “Why didn't you show me before we fucked?”

“I don't think your neighbours would be too happy seeing us fornicate if they happened to look out the window.”

“You think they can really see us?”

Sam shrugged, putting an arm under his head and stared up at the sky with you.

“Do you wanna go out tomorrow?” You asked.

“Are you gonna give me the Grand Los Angeles tour?”

“Honestly, I haven't even toured it myself,” you sheepishly said. “It hasn't really felt like home.”

“Well,” Sam looked up in thought. “Maybe we can start with Santa Monica? I believe it isn't too far from here.”

“Okay,” you took his hand in yours.

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Lovebug (13/14)

Summary:

“It might be a bug.”

“A bug?”

“Sometimes the developers of this application make mistakes. This is our first time meeting I’m sure so…Isn’t it a bit weird that we just met for the first time and it rings like this? And for two strangers to coincidentally ring each other’s alarms?“

Levi is the developer of the Love Alarm App and Hange is married to Zeke.

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12

Notes: Feedback is very much appreciated :D

With attire alone, Levi was already a fish out of water.

As the seconds ticked though, his self consciousness only grew.

It wasn’t just an issue of clothing. Too many things had been against him the whole way to the dinner room. The white and silver of the windows of the private dinner room in the hotel reflected the setting sun, the marble floors, the glass bridge, the carpeted floors.

The scenery was only half the battle though. The men and women strode in and out of the dinner room with attire much grander than is. There were leather bags, the jewelry and constantly hovering in the air were the business vernacular that fell into one ear and out the order.

There were too many conversations on mergers, acquisitions, business climates, market prices he could never be part of. And his own direct companions weren’t making it any better.

As Levi soon understood, it wasn’t their job to make him feel comfortable anyway.

“Yelena,” he repeated, a memory exercise for himself. The whole journey from the convention center on the first floor to one of the rooms in the mid floor of the hotel was silent and long. In the sea of business pleasantries though, it seemed ironic that the blonde had never even made conversation beyond her own name.

Even as she sat next to him on the dinner table, she didn’t speak, not even bothering to respond to her own name. She was too close though, only a few inches away that Levi swore she had heard it.

“That’s your name right?” Levi added. He couldn’t think of much else to say. After blurting her name mindlessly, with Porco and Pieck seated just in front of him, looking at him expectantly, he knew he had to continue with something.

“I introduced myself back in the lobby already,” Yelena finally responded.

“You did,” Levi said.

“Is there anything you want to ask?” Yelena asked, no hint of benevolence in her tone.

Levi had been rolling on the bed, in and out of sleep the whole day. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else. He didn’t trust himself to think.

Yelene had a knowing look on her face, as if she knew something he didn’t. And she seemed to be enjoying it. Since a while ago, she hadn’t at all been subtle with the fact that somehow, by just their first meeting, Levi had managed to rub her the wrong way. It wasn’t too radical of an idea, that she may enjoy his pain.

Levi’s mind was suddenly racing, reminding him why he had even considered going in the first place. Is there anything you wanna ask?  Those words echoed for a while longer. The longer he sat there silently, the more restless he became. He avoided her gaze, looking behind her, then behind Porco and Pieck, taking in his surroundings again. He was observing mannerisms, branded bags, branded ties, branded purses and Zeke in the middle of all of it, going from one table to the other.

Eventually, after the discomfort settled, Levi realized he was torturing himself for a reason.

Hange wasn’t there. And he shouldn’t have needed that long look to notice it. But you’ve given up already? Right?

“You’re not going to eat?” Pieck was a lot more friendly. There was a huge difference between being polite and being friendly and Levi suspected, he was only seeing politeness as friendliness given the stark contrast of Yelena’s overall approach towards him

In the air, tension hung so thick. Levi didn’t notice a piece of bread and a bowl of soup had been served in front of him. “I will.” He immediately went for the spoon in front of him.

“That’s the spoon for the main course,” Yelena said.

“What?” By the second, Levi was starting to realize how disconnected he actually was. Around the soup, there were spoons, forks and knives in multiple sizes. In a panic, Levi had looked around to see it was the same for everyone else.

Yet, everyone else knew how to navigate such a complex design.

“The small one is the soup spoon.” Pieck was helpful at least. “No, that’s the tea spoon,” she added as she looked pointedly at the smallest one Levi had taken hold of.

Levi was familiar enough with tea to be familiar with the size of the teaspoon. At that point though, who cared what spoon he ate with? He wasn’t there to dine.

By some pride or just utter frustration at the whole situation, the spoon debacle was never solved and Levi never touched his soup that night. He closed himself off from everything else, keeping his world closed to anything but the entrance, Zeke, the crowds, and the one familiar face he wanted to see.

But Hange never showed up.

“She’s not coming. If that’s what you’re thinking.” Yelena could have been reading his mind.

“Who’s not coming?” Levi asked. He widened his eyes in mock surprise but he kept his voice toneless. In his mind, that seemed like a good balance to display both calm and disconnect.

Yelena never answered the question. Maybe she knew silence was the right answer, that is, if her attention had been to keep his insides boiling in frustration, his mind racing.

The grin on her face only proved it. Maybe that was her intention.

It only got worse though as the night dragged on and Levi noticed his own restlessness around the salad course that he could barely even look at.

He could barely coordinate his hands. His legs were trembling.

Those few moments he focused on evening out his breathing, he was able to grip the spoon, then the steak knife as the main course came in.

As if to add salt to whatever wound she had, Yelena commented abruptly. “It’s not everyday people like you will be able to get steak like this.”

The steak could have just been soft. Or Levi was recovering. One of those, he couldn’t be too sure. But it was a good steak. He could tell that much. It melted in his mouth and he had spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating how it was physically possible for steak to melt in his mouth.

Then suddenly the delectable steak rotted mid chew. “You look like you’re enjoying yourself.” It was as if Yelena was on a mission to be a total buzzkill. Maybe she was being paid by Zeke to do just that.

And she was doing a wonderful job. Levi almost choked on that last piece, his fork fell to his lap. In a bout of embarrassment, he stood up. “Toilet.”

Five minutes and an empty bladder later, whatever peace and calm he had managed to muster alone in the toilet completely dissipated. It seemed like that dinner was also on a mission to make him as miserable as possible even in a supposedly pleasant environment.

“Where’s my steak?” Levi put too much energy into keeping his tone as subdued as possible.

“Oh, you weren’t done?” Pieck asked, seeming genuinely curious.

He had only gotten two bites. Of course, he wouldn’t be done. He was close to raising his hand up to call the waiter until he was reminded, he didn’t even pay for the dinner. Did he even have the right to complain?

At that point, Levi was just a little ticked, his grumbling stomach at having missed three courses over his own discomfort and tense state was already catching up to him. “What made you think I was done?”

“You put your spoon and fork together, like this,” Pieck said. “That means you’re done with the course.” She organized her plate the same way Levi did, for just a second.

Maybe Levi had been too self conscious. In an attempt to seem more posh than he actually was, Levi had channeled his own fastidiousness into putting the utensils together before he left for the toilet.

“I would think someone who works in corporate would know this. This is standard fine dining,” Yelena said nonchalantly.

Fine dining for Levi meant a dinner at a cafe, or a sit down restaurant. The whole world that existed for the sake of fine dining, the course meals, the secret language he didn’t seem to understand felt completely unnecessary. And the longer they sat there as if deliberately keeping him in the dark while he starved, Levi only became more and more impatient.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t have known any better at first,” Levi said.

“I’ve been handling Zeke’s properties overseas for years so I’ve had my fair share of fine dining experience.” She then turned to Pieck and Porco who both nodded. “Even before that, my parents have taught me this. Have yours?”

Levi’s earliest memories of fine dining had been sit down restaurants, diners, nothing too fancy. He shook his head. “Well, I didn’t come here with the intention of dining. You put me on that list yourself, without even waiting for a reply.” He regretted it, as soon as he let it out. His grumbling stomach had him almost out of control.

Yelena raised one eyebrow. “Oh? Then why did you still come, Mr. Ackerman? The free food?”

Levi froze.

“The free food you barely even touched?” Yelena pressed.

And Levi stiffened up, much harder than he would have thought was ‘completely frozen.’

“You have some business to settle with Mr. Jaeger I’m guessing?”

“It’s none of your business.” Levi managed to say.

“I’ve been working for the Jaegers for years. I manage their overseas properties, a few apartments and houses here and there,” she said proudly.

“And?” Levi challenged. “Does that make you entitled to whatever other business Zeke has?”

That question was a response enough. Enough to get Yelena crack, her expression shifted from incredulous, to abrasive to subdued. One eyebrow raised, mouth twitching slightly. “I had to clean up the mess you two left behind.”

Mess? Levi had an inkling of an answer.

A clatter of metal on a plate. “Yelena! Not here,” Pieck said.

“Then we should talk outside then.” Yelena was half way to standing up, before she stopped herself.

Levi found himself following her gaze. The one view that had her frozen in her tracks had been Zeke and before Levi even knew it himself, he was just as surprised as Yelena.

“Should we retire early?” Zeke asked.

“Sir, you haven’t eaten yet,” Yelena argued.

Zeke shook his head. “I hold these dinners to find potential business partners, not to eat.” He turned to Pieck. “I think Pieck can take over from here. I’ll leave you to answer any questions about Jaeger healthcare holdings.”

Pieck nodded. “Yes sir, I’ll take over.”

“No hurry, everyone’s still busy with their meals…” Zeke looked pointedly at his surroundings at the other people. HIs staff table had been conveniently placed by the corner, and it didn’t seem at all like their conversation had been heard by everyone else.

Pieck and Porco were noticeably eating faster, seeming deep in thought. Back into business mode maybe, the caustic exchange of a while ago completely forgotten. Or at least they looked like they were attempting to forget it.

Not burdened with that same responsibility, Yelena didn’t seem to put up any facade. Her own antagonizing attitude towards Levi didn’t falter. Yet somehow, Zeke’s presence had kept her mum, subdued her to just venomous glares.

They exited the dinner hall and made their way out of the hallway, opening up to the open hotel lobby. “We can talk in my private suite,” Zeke said. “I don’t like having a lot of my conversations in public.”

Levi didn’t respond. The glances Yelena snuck him only made it harder to come up with anything more than a few mumbles which he was sure would only make him look pathetic in front of Zeke.

“Did you pay for the flight yourself?” Zeke asked.

Levi nodded. Where’s Hange? That thought tore into his mind so abruptly, Levi found himself having to clamp his mouth shut, much tighter than normal. He couldn’t trust himself to speak. God knows, he might end up asking just that cursed question.

“You’re quiet,” Zeke commented as they entered the elevator. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

Levi nodded and mumbled some hint of a yes.

Zeke raised his eyebrows. “Really what was your favorite course?”

The steak obviously. Even those words got caught somewhere in his throat, admitting to Zeke that he enjoyed the food seemed almost like flaunting himself naked.

Luckily—or unluckily, Zeke didn’t prod, instead going for another speech which made Levi regret keeping silent. “I hold dinners every night for PR, get the right potential partners to the same room, for my healthcare holdings, my supermarket holdings, my…” Zeke rattled on.

To Levi, it felt the blonde had just been jacking himself off instead of actually making conversation. Still, that gave Levi time to think.

Thinking turned out to be a bad thing.

Even before they arrived at the penthouse floor, Levi had to admit, the hotel was posh. The scent of new wood hung in the air, the marble finishings, the lamp made out of metals Levi suspected weren’t easy to acquire. And when they stepped from the elevator wing to the matted floor of the penthouse, whatever plush they used underneath greeted him in some strange manner.

Strangely, Levi felt guilty for dirtying something which he was completely aware was supposed to be dirtied anyway dealing with foot traffic everyday. Then the more they walked, the more self conscious he became of the way he was walking.

Zeke and Yelena both walked ahead with confident strides and Zeke never stopped talking. When Levi found himself listening, he noticed, Zeke's tirades only made the grand hall seem grander, a completely different world to Levi, something he wasn’t supposed to be in.

Was he a visitor. Hell, maybe not even a visitor. A slave? A serf?

“The convention is to attract potential resellers. We’re planning on reselling our research, our products, our technology, to this region...”

They walked towards the end of the hall, stopping in front of some fancy door only accentuated by the plush carpets and the decorative lamps.

“... And this city will be our hub…” It looked like Zeke had been too distracted by his own grand plans to even bother to open the door. It was fortunate then that Yelena had the key and that she knew her way into the presidential suite.

They settled on the sofa in the living rooms, the first room past the foyer.

“We’ll set up office space... Maybe a building...”

It was around then that Levi noticed he hadn’t been offered a seat but he didn’t mind it too much. The multiple sitting rooms, the wide window to one side that gave a good view of the infinity pool on the balcony, and beyond that, a view of the city.

Did Hange get to swim? Levi looked out for a while longer and he couldn’t look away. The longer he looked, the easier it became to imagine her leaning over the infinity pool in her purple bathing suit.

“It will cost a few million dollars…”

Just like in the country club.

“Levi, you want to go for a swim?”

Levi coughed, an instinctive movement. “Sorry… Excuse me, what?”

Zeke looked very unimpressed. It was obviously a joke. “For gods sake, sit down. It’s distracting just watching you stand awkwardly.”

“So why did you invite me here?” Levi asked. If not to listen to you ramble. He added silently to himself.

“I think I have a right to answer first,” Zeke said. He nodded to Yelena. The latter walked away and back to the kitchen. “Why are you here? Don’t tell me you’re here for the convention?”

“What if I am?”

Zeke spared a small grin. He leaned back on the sofa and looked to the side, as if sharing an inside joke with himself. “And do you have plans of investing?”

Millions of dollars. Those three words echoed in Levi’s head. He didn’t have that money and he most likely never would.

Zeke didn’t give him time to speak. “Figures,” he muttered. “So why did you come here?” He asked in a clearer voice.

“You invited m---”

“I wouldn’t have invited you if you weren’t here already,” Zeke said.

Yelena chose that moment to come in between them, a wine bottle on one hand, two wine glasses on the other. Her movements were too casual, the fine dining positions of a while ago seemed almost like a facade.

Zeke gave a nod in thanks. “Sit where you’re comfortable.”

Yelena didn’t hesitate. She settled on one of the sofa chairs, a comfortable distance between them. She mirrored Zeke’s own expression, a mix between mocking and expectant.

It only became harder to speak. When Levi was weighing between speaking up and staying mum, he found, as painful as it was to continue speaking, the outcome seemed more desirable.

At least in his head.

“What’s wrong? Can’t tell me why you visited my convention?” Zeke took a sip of the wine. “Unless it’s something… controversial? Embarrassing? Offensive?.”

Levi felt his skin crawl. Not completely in control of his body, he almost feared his facade cracking and not noticing it. He cleared his throat. “I was going to speak.” He paused, using that moment, to meet Zeke’s eyes. “It’s about Hange.”

“What about my Hange?” Zeke had put too much emphasis in those last two words, it seemed almost out of place. In one sleek movement, he straightened up on his seat and tightened his grip on his wine glass

It was as if Levi was walking on Zeke’s territory, completely unwelcome. And Levi was starting to notice that. He shook his head and softened his voice, a subtle peace offering. “I had plans for the emotion alarm, I wanted to discuss them with Hange, get her opinion---”

“Erwin hasn’t told you yet?” Zeke put down his wine glass. “We’re terminating the contract.

It was like a ton of bricks fell on him. His stomach followed suit. Levi went for his wine glass and took a long sip which quickly turned into a gulp then he let out a cough. Water would have done a much better job to clear the tickle in the throat, the pang in his chest and the hollowness in his chest that followed. But he wasn’t going to ask for water in Zeke’s territory yet.

A ninety five percent chance of termination. Erwin had said back in their meeting.

“So it’s final?” Levi asked. The crushing disappointment had been enough proof that Levi had been vouching on that five percent.

Zeke nodded once. “Hange won’t be bothering you anymore. We’ll find another developer for her to work with.”

“I was working on some plans. They’re suggestions I was hoping she’d consider. If I---”

“Levi, can you send it over through email? Do you have to talk to her?”

Levi felt the blood rush to his face. He bent his head down almost immediately, focused on his shaking hands that were only gripping his knees tighter. He dug his nails into his knees, as if that would be enough to stop the shaking. “No, I don’t need to.” It could have come out as an exhale or an actual response.

“Well, that makes things easier. You know, she doesn't want to see you.” Zeke’s voice was painfully casual.

Levi looked up again, regretting it almost immediately. Zeke had a look of triumph on his face. It had only served to piss Levi all the more that Zeke had tried to hide it behind a nonchalant face. Seeing the small smile that decorated his lips, Levi dug his nails deeper into his knees. “Then why?”

“Why what?” Zeke pressed. “Why doesn't she want to see you?” His voice was getting colder and colder with each word. They twisted into an almost malevolent sneer.

“Why invite me here?” Levi asked, his voice clipped. Grappling with both Zeke’s attitude and the revelation on Hange’s feeling, Levi was finding it harder to speak.

“So you came because you were invited then?” Zeke took another sip. “And how were you invited?”

Does he expose Hange? And maybe Levi had taken too long vacillating.

Zeke had ended up answering the question himself. “An email? A support ticket with a flyer? Spam mail?” He took another sip. “You and your company have your very techy love alarm. And I have my own version too, my very old fashioned love alarm.” He gestured in front of him, right at Levi. “And it’s ringing in front of me right now.”

It took a few more seconds for Levi to understand it.

Zeke was either impatient. Or probably he thought Levi was a total idiot. He bent forward, leaned his elbows on his knees and dropped his wine glass on the wooden table with a loud clack.“Tell me, why would you go all the way here, over a fake email?” he asked. “Her name really was enough for you to book a plane ticket and fly across the ocean?”

Levi didn’t respond.

And it looked like Zeke didn’t need an answer anyway. He waved one hand in front of him and rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you’ve been in the corporate world long enough to know, there are meetings that could have been emails yet you still chose to take a plane and come here.”

“Do you want me to write an email?” Levi asked.

Zeke shrugged. We don’t need your input. This project...it’s mine and Hange’s.”

Yours and Hange’s? He raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, as if that slow and subtle movement had been enough to quell the fire in his chest. “What makes you say that?”

“It’s our project. It’s my gift to Hange.”

What does that make me? Levi didn’t say it out loud. He didn’t even want that instinctive jaw drop, the twitch in his mouth that followed to expose what the hell he was thinking.

“You’re merely someone paid to do the work.” Zeke continued, as if he had heard Levi's silent question.

Levi didn’t even feel it. He wasn’t even completely aware it happened until Zeke’s eyes widened for a split second in surprise, then narrowed again, shifting instead to one could have been pure fury.

But Levi didn’t care. Even when looking down had revealed, he spilled wine all over the lush carpet. The wine glass had hit the table, scattering pieces of broken glass on the table and over the floor.

It would be a bitch to clean up. Levi didn’t care about that either, it wasn’t his mess. It wasn’t his fucking presidential suite.

Zeke just had more practice in the diplomacy department. “Why do you feel it necessary to stand up and cause such a ruckus?”

The calmness had Levi’s blood boiling more violently inside him. He could only be grateful that the breaking the wine glass had released some of that pent up energy.

Zeke was only making it harder and harder to stay still. “I’m only stating facts. The money I put into it makes it mine. The fact that you’re being paid to do it. The fact that you even signed an employment contract relinquishes all ownership you have of all the projects you do in the company. You of all people should know that. I can’t even believe I need to school someone like you on this. You can’t even keep yourself together.”

Levi looked away, back at the view of the balcony, the glowing city. How much of it was owned by people who knew nothing about construction, architecture or just the hard work that went into even making such a view possible? A tiny injustice that surfaced in Levi’s mind as he let Zeke’s words sink in. “With all due respect... ” His last few words came out softer than expected. But Levi had seemed almost confident with them. “...You know jackshit about coding or psychology.”

Soon, Levi gripped enough of that new found confidence to take control of the conversation. “You know nothing about how any of that shit works. You didn’t stay up all night working on that damn application. I’ll fucking bet my whole life savings you don’t even know how this application works.”

“Ackerman, watch your mouth!” It was Yelena who spoke, looking as if she had just recovered from shock, eyes wide, her own wine glass on the table.

Levi cleared his throat. “Once again, with all due respect.” He was mildly aware then, that he may have raised his voice. Zeke was surprisingly—almost admirably calm. He put one hand as if to stop Yelena and spoke up. “And does ‘knowing jackshit’ make me less of an owner?”

That was a question that Levi couldn’t answer. He regretted losing control. In shock, or in some punishment which only the inner workings of his mind understood, Levi could only stand still, unable to even sit back down.

Zeke stared at him accusingly. “Mr. Ackerman…” he started. “You don’t believe there’s any dignity in the labor of moving money around? Investing and reinvesting?”

Levi felt shame wash over him.

It was a strange state to be in. There was more than enough dignity in being a billionaire, in being one of the top one percent who just bought and sold whatever they got their hands on. It was an inarguable fact that society thought highly of the top one percent regardless of where they got their money. Yet Zeke had a way of speaking that made Levi reflect the validity of his own words, any disrespect or any backhanded insult he could have been sending to anyone else.

Levi knew he was being manipulated but he couldn’t seem to point out how.

Maybe it had been the way Zeke had opened his eyes, his face a mix of confusion, hurt, with a hint of derision. Or maybe everything had been Levi’s imagination and once again he was faced with the prospect that maybe he didn’t mean it.

“That…” That wasn’t what I meant.

At that point, Zeke had stood up and at that difference of height and difference of social status, Levi had to bite his tongue, not to lose his composure.

Zeke though seemed to know he had taken control of the conversation. “You’re trying to cover your ass?”

“Cover… my ass?” Levi said that last word with a little more venom in his mouth. Somehow, the eloquent Zeke suddenly putting so much force into one single curse only added to the tension of that moment.

“Trying to justify your own mistakes by emphasizing your own superiority. It’s a very common tactic. You’re not the first to employ it.”

“I never---”

“You should be thanking me. I’ve been treating you fairly, paying you for your hard work. And on top of that, I’ve tolerated the transgressions, even putting more money unnecessarily into covering this up.” Zeke said. He walked towards the kitchen island, pulling an envelope from next to the telephone and slamming it on the counter. He wasn’t motioning though for Levi to come.

Levi preferred to stay frozen, just standing between the sofa and the coffee table. But when Zeke opened the envelope, pulling out pictures, and a few pages which he waved on the air and slammed on the table, Levi’s curiosity peaked.

Levi covered the distance in so short an amount of time, he never figured out if he seemed too desperate.

In hindsight, it wasn’t important. The contents of the papers, the pictures bundled together by paper clips had only been a more pressing matter.

Zeke’s words only confirmed it. “You went on a road trip up north on Hange’s birthday?”

“We did,” Levi said. There wasn’t much else he could have said to deny it. The evidence was too overwhelming— blurred pictures, screenshots of comments online in threads, subthreads, all speculating Hange’s side relationship.

“No use denying it. Yelena made a call to our employees in our estate up north. They mentioned Hange’s companion when she visited.”

“But we didn’t do anything…”

Zeke raised one eyebrow as if he had caught them in the act. “I’m not accusing you of it. But what would you say in your defense? When the Love Alarm rings, when you book a double room in a motel and when you’re together, almost inseparable in all of these pictures,” Zeke spread the photos on the table, shots of them in the motel, in the train station, in Zeke's house. “Hange isn’t a high profile person. It never made the news, Yelena and I made sure of that but people talk, anyone familiar with the tech world and particularly interested in it, would know how our family looks like."

It was funny, how anger could so easily sour to shame. At that moment, Levi considered disappearing an almost welcome development. Zeke pushed the pictures nearer to him, in one messy pile, the screenshots on comments, mentioning words like ‘misters,’ ‘paramours,’ ‘who’s the man???’ “We purged the internet of all photos, no names. Some people repost but I have people watching and reporting. This isn’t cheap.”

I’m sorry. Levi’s first instinct was to apologize, the adamance of a while ago almost completely forgotten. But sorry’s wouldn't work. “How much? I’ll pay what I can.”

Zeke scoffed. “Can you?”

Levi couldn’t think up much to say. He scanned his eyes over the comments at first to feign business, an excuse not to speak up. The more he looked, the more engrossed he got at lines of comments. Others towards him, then as he turned the pages, they were all towards Hange.

Slut. Whore. Low life. Cheater.

“I’ll pay what I can,” Levi said.

“How much are you willing to shell out? A hundred grand?”

That was a huge chunk of Levi’s annual earnings already. He wasn’t one to disclose salary though. He kept his mouth a thin flat line and nodded.

Zeke shook his head. “I’ll be generous, considering all the inconvenience you’ve caused both of us. While you're here, humor me,” he said. “I may not be a coder or a psychologist but I’m sure, there are things I can teach you. If you’re willing to shell out a hundred grand, let’s gamble with it. I haven’t had a good game in a while.”

“A good game?”

Zeke turned to Yelena. “Can you be a dealer again?”

“You plan on playing heads up?” Yelena asked,

“We have a table in one of the private rooms, why not?”

“Heads-up poker?” Levi clarified. There was only one game heads up that the two could have been referring to, mentioning terms like ‘deal.’

Zeke didn’t even bother to answer the question either for lack of consideration for Levi or just an expectation that Levi may have understood.

Levi didn’t live under a rock and he was very much familiar with the game. He had played a few games on online poker sites back in college.

Still, he moved a little sluggishly behind his two companions. Levi could have just been a little too wary or Zeke could have been out for blood.

The stakes then and there were completely different. For one, he had never bet almost a year’s worth of his own salary on a single game. He had never played with anyone whose net worth was a thousand, or maybe even a million times his own.

At that moment, Levi felt like a total beginner and it was as if hesitation clipped every single moment he managed to pull out of himself. There wasn’t too much he was expected to do but watch as Yelena prepared a few playing cards then chips.

Zeke made himself comfortable right in front of Levi. “Willing to bet a hundred grand?” he said those last words with an ominous smile on his face.

Levi sensed danger, but he couldn’t sense any proper way out either. He owed Zeke, he knew that much, whether it be for the money or the utter disrespect he had been treating him with since a while ago. Maybe he owed Zeke for more than that, for any inconvenience Zeke may have experienced at Levi having gotten a little too close to Hange.

Levi admitted, even just to himself, he had been a little too close to Hange for either of them to have been comfortable. Guilt, a sense of duty or just hyper awareness of everything all at once had Levi conceding, “Do I pay now?”

“We play with chips first,” Zeke responded.

Yelena dropped colored stacks of chips in front of them. Levi counted reds, blues, yellows, browns.

“You should have a hundred thousand worth,” Yelena said. “Do you know the colors?”

“Yes, just a bit.” Dabbling into online poker for a few months at least, Levi had enough experience to tell the browns as five thousands, the light blues as two thousand and the rest had inferred for himself from the amount of chips in front of him. He looked up to see that Zeke had a noticeably larger stack. “That looks like a lot more than a hundred grand,” Levi noted.

Zeke didn’t answer immediately and the flicker of realization came quicker, quick enough to have Levi coughing in surprise. The odds were against him.

“It is,” Zeke said as he counted his own chips, as if it wasn’t plain and utter cheating or even deception that he had a glaringly higher amount of chips than Levi. He slipped the chips towards the side and looked questioningly at Levi.

What had Hange told him back then in the golf course?

Zeke likes winning...But the way he goes about winning is like...He’s always been smart about it, always playing safe.

And what a better way to play safe than to have a larger pile than your opponent.

Zeke spoke up. “Hange and I, we’d play games with business partners while talking contracts and logistics. And Hange always said this about games. They teach things and sometimes they expose parts of ourselves… And the more I played with Hange, whether it be mahjong, blackjack, golf, or chess, I started to notice something. Games are a mirror of life, almost a clear reflection of what you deal with in business and in relationships.”

Zeke paused for a second and closed his eyes as if deep in thought. The room filled with the sound of shuffling of cards, the sound of the clack of chips as Zeke ran his hand over the brown ones, tapping them over the wooden round table in stilted and deafening movements.

“Poker is one of my favorite games. Like business, you base your decision on three things… Tells, numbers and circumstances,” He paused for a few seconds longer and he could have been expecting Levi to speak.

Levi didn’t look up though, instead using the brief silence to make sense for himself the amount of chips on his side.

Zeke spoke again. “Yelena, shuffle up and deal. We’re playing heads up. Our small blind is five hundred dollars and our big blind is one thousand dollars,” he said coldly. “I hope that isn’t too much money.”

In truth, that was enough money to make Levi’s stomach turn. Zeke’s manner didn’t look like it welcomed any protest though, so Levi merely nodded as some weak reply.

A weak nod could have sufficed as a response. Zeke turned to Yelena. “Give our valued guest the dealer button.”

The dealer plays the small blind. Levi counted five hundred dollars worth of chips and pushed it in front of Zeke.

Two cards lay in front of him, care of Yelena. Levi had played before and he was familiar at least with what a good hand would have looked like. In one swift movement, he held the cards in front of him.

Ten of Clubs and Nine of Clubs. With just one look, he knew he could complete either a flush or a straight.

If the board plays to his advantage.

Zeke tutted. “It’s not considered good practice to lift the cards. Most poker players would just raise the corner just high enough to see their own cards.” He demonstrated that exact same movement, only raising high enough that he could get the contents cards with one glance. “You’ve never played on the board?”

“I’ve played for a few months online,” Levi muttered. He would look back at that experience with little animosity. After all, a few months dabbling with bets online and just applying what little he learned from his statistics class had seemed like an overall enriching experience at first. Then and there, on the board, with thousands of dollars at stake, Levi felt utterly vulnerable. Like a beginner. Maybe, in the grand scheme of things, someone with only months worth of casual experience was a beginner.

And Zeke held a glaring advantage, something Levi couldn’t so easily brush away. Levi’s own instinct, his own experience with odds had him considering raising. Just for a second. When Zeke was staring at him though, his own pile much bigger than Levi, Levi could only weigh between two decisions, fold and give up that hand or match Zeke’s bet.

It’s still a good hand anyway. “Call,” Levi said, matching Zeke’s bet.

By the way that Zeke was looking at him though, Levi knew he was probably not playing on the board properly. Zeke spoke up. “Tells. One important concept in both poker and business is tells,” he explained. “The way you carry yourself tells me you never played on the board. Am I correct?”

“Yes.” There was no use denying it but Levi didn't have to spare him a long answer.

Zeke dropped five purple chips on the table. “Raise to 2500.”

There was value in those chips, his lifestyle, his savings. And for a split second, he saw an abyss. He had spent too much on a flight ticket, a hotel room, just all the food he had been eating in that town. Then another year's worth of income on stake, reduced to chips.

By some strange instinct, by some adrenaline rush, Levi had managed to brush it away, reducing whatever stakes to the few chips on the board. And he was grateful for the power of delusion. By god, if he didn’t have at least a sliver of self-delusion, he could have folded right then.

“Call,” Levi said, once again matching Zeke’s bet. He needed to calm down. It wasn’t a loss yet, the game hadn’t even started.

There was hope in whatever cards Yelena was shuffling. She spread the first three on the table.

“We call that a flop,” Zeke said. “Just in case you didn’t know.” And of course Levi knew, he had played online long enough to pick up some terms. With the grin on Zeke’s face, a far cry from a face more appropriate for a game of poker, Levi was certain Zeke was provoking him. “I know what a flop is,” Levi said, running his eyes over the three cards.

Ace of clubs. Seven of Clubs. Eight of Hearts.

Levi started to calculate. He had 2500 dollars, a months worth of basic living expenses on the line. He wondered if it would have felt better just dropping the one hundred grand to Zeke from the start. There was something notably more painful and more terrifying about the possibility of watching his money whittle away slowly.

“During business meetings, I like to tell which topics, which specific products make my business partners uncomfortable, when dealing with stakeholders, with employees. I like to take a few quick guesses on the backgrounds of the people in front of me, to see whether they’re worth dealing with in the long term. ” Zeke explained. “How they handle pressure…”

Was that a threat? A challenge? Maybe it was. Levi was suddenly morbidly aware that he had licked his lips, that his hand shook as he took another peek at his cards.

He had a chance for a straight. But what would Zeke have? And Levi had made the mistake of looking at Zeke then.

“Another ‘tell’, your eyes widened just there. You have a pair? A potential straight? For someone who wears her heart on her sleeve, Hange does a much better time hiding than you do.” Zeke had deliberately put more emphasis on the word Hange.

If Levi hadn’t frozen solid, tensed up by the shoulders with Zeke’s almost accurate guess, the word Hange had done the trick to make Levi terribly, terribly self conscious. In an instinctive moment, Levi bent his head down, raised one hand in an attempt to cover his own eyes, only to realize a second later with his hand halfway to his eyes, that that had done worse to even show that he had something to hide.

“You don’t have to hide it. We all know already, you’re in love with Hange.”

Levi had accepted that part already. If he had been in complete denial at that moment, maybe he would have lost himself in Zeke’s accusing glare.

“Are you going to deny it?” Zeke dropped an alarming number of yellow and purple chips. “Raise to four thousand.”

Levi let out a sound, a combination between a no and a quiet huff and he matched Zeke’s bet.

“A month ago I heard from the staff in our summer house up north mentioning the man, who always followed closely behind Hange, the man who so willingly got a single bed hotel with her, the man in the train station who sat close to Hange Zoe,” Zeke said. “People talk, Levi. Did you consider that? And I thought to myself back then, maybe, it could have been a coincidence but Hange had her own tells as well. When Hange saved you from drowning, did you know she didn’t want to let go?”

Yelena put one more card down. Two of diamonds.

“This is a convenient turn card ,” Zeke commented. “If you have a nine, or a ten, you have a chance at a straight. Have you calculated?” He raised one eyebrow.

Levi didn’t answer. Hell, anything he did say could probably be taken against him.

“Hange would have. When we played, she would babble on about statistics. Everytime she held out a hand, completely beating me, she would babble all the calculations in her head. She has always been quick witted, intelligent, clever. That’s why I fell in love with her too.” He had said that part louder, more confidently and so matter-of-factly, and Levi was reminded he would never have that same confidence to say those words about Hange, even if he would have meant it.

There was a clack of poker chips. Four thousand dollars? Levi counted. He looked towards the pile next to Yelena. He had four thousand dollars there already. A total of eight thousand dollars on the table, months worth of rent for most.

From the expectant look on Zeke’s face, Levi was expecting he’d only go higher. Do I fold? But maybe with the excruciating mentions of Hange, that was something Zeke had wanted him to do. In a sliver of weak protest, Levi matched the bet, his own bet up to eight thousand dollars.

He needed a jack or a six for a straight. But why was Zeke easily dropping bets? Did he have something better?

“Let’s consider numbers in real life. Even with how you and Hange were acting, I thought I could give you the benefit of the doubt. When the alarm rang, when you and Hange accepted it as truth, I realized my suspicions might be right. Hange might actually be attracted to you, she might actually love you. So what does that mean for me?” Zeke was once again playing with his chips.

Five thousand dollars worth? Levi thought loudly to himself as he counted the chips.

A bluff? Levi’s mind was racing. Zeke’s own words were deliberately or even just half heartedly disturbing. But there wasn’t much else he could do, four thousand dollars were on the line. Zeke proved to be confident at least with his own hand.

Bluffs happened, Levi played enough to be aware that people did put more than enough money than necessary just to scare people into folding. Another surge of protest later, Levi had matched the bet, putting his total bet at eleven grand.

The final card on the board was a jack and Levi didn’t have to look back at his own cards to confirm it. He had a straight. When Zeke had bet ten grand in chips, it had been much easier to call.

Soon the cards were revealed, an Ace and a King. Zeke had the strongest pair.

But Levi had a straight. He took the pot, more than a total of twenty thousand dollars, more than enough to offset his whole trip. When Levi looked up at Zeke, he regretted it almost instantly.

The latter didn’t seem at all affected by losing over twenty thousand dollars. “Circumstances, the most powerful tool but the easiest to control with the right resources. ” Zeke said, as if that had been the explanation for his own strange behavior. “It’s only natural when the person I’m married to starts running off with another man, I’d feel threatened. When she started working on the love alarm and I noticed she was happier, happier than I’ve ever seen her before. Then she was crankier than I’ve ever seen her before, then sadder. I wondered, what was our head developer doing to make Hange like that.”

Nothing. Fall in love with her? There weren’t too many things which could have fit what was starting to seem like a redundant question, so once again, silence was the best response.

Yelena spread the deck of cards over the table and Levi instead focused on dropping the new blind and appreciating the deft manner at which Yelena ran her hands over the cards.

He wasn’t in any state to be mesmerized by cards though.

Zeke’s voice echoed in the room. “Levi, I asked you a question.”

“What did I do, you mean?” Levi asked. That was the last thing he remembered and it had seemed almost redundant, not worth an explanation. Zeke shook his head. “Do you think she’s in love with you?” A strange question to ask someone, too personal. Zeke had a way of speaking that demanded answers.

Levi’s mind was working faster, vacillating between answering or not. He thought back to the ringing of the love alarm, Hange’s words up in the tower. Hange seemed happier, then crankier, then sadder, than I’ve ever seen before. “That’s for Hange to decide, right?” Levi said.

Zeke’s voice was suddenly softer as if they had released a sigh with his words. “Considering circumstances though, I was assured Hange can’t just leave.”

That last word had peaked Levi’s interest. “Leave?” He repeated.

“Even if your love alarm is correct, even if by some chance she loved you, and she didn’t love me, Hange can’t leave. I made sure of that. I’ve covered my bases.”

Covered your bases? Levi bent his head down, hiding that incredulous look that forced itself out of him.

“I paid for her research. I paid for the emotion alarm. I paid for the media embargo so your photos wouldn’t get printed.  I paid for everything, our home, our trips. Hange can’t just leave, after I put so much into this relationship right?”

Yelena dealt a new set of his cards and Levi pulled his new cards towards him and took a peak.

Eight of hearts. Three of hearts. Shitty hand with a potential for a flush.

Zeke slipped the new cards towards him. “She’s not going to leave. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized, why are you still hurting yourself over this. Why don’t you give up?”

“There’s nothing to give up. I wasn’t holding on to anything.” Those words had been surprisingly easy to say. “Hange married you. I went here to talk to her, nothing more than that.”

“You could have sent an email. You could have sent it through Erwin. Why come here yourself?” Zeke’s words were suddenly ringing through his ear.

“Why are you so bothered by me showing up? You didn’t have to invite me here,” Levi said, and somehow, a cathartic release that came with those words.

The shocked almost speechless expression on Zeke’s face, a far cry from the calm, poker face of a second ago, sent a rush of confidence over Levi

Maybe there were things he knew about Hange that Zeke didn’t. Levi continued “I don’t understand why you had to go through all this trouble, covering the embargo, sending Hange away, buying the emotion alarm. Even if you didn’t cover your bases, even if you give Hange all of that, she wouldn’t have left you. She really believes she’s in love with you.” She’s a prideful prick that way. He added silently to himself.

“What do you know about Hange? You only met her months ago.”

Long enough to feel like I’ve known her my whole life. If his words could have at least been enough to ensure some happiness for Hange in the future, it was worth a shot. “You should have just trusted her. You take in the most free-loving person I have ever met as your partner and you trap her by hanging all that over her head? That’s not how to love someone like Hange.”

“Who are you to tell me how to love the person I’m married to?”

This time, it was Levi’s turn to ask a question. “Do you love Hange?”

“More than you’re capable of understanding,” Zeke answered venomously, as if it was an attack on Levi.

Somehow, of all the things, an attack on his own ignorance didn’t feel like anything at all. Levi was confident, he wasn’t ignorant. “Hange really believes love is a choice, love is freedom. And you think the best way to love her is to tie her down with money and gifts? With circumstance?”

“You can’t assume that.”

“Then why do you have to make her feel guilty? Why do you give her everything just so she won’t leave? Why are you assuming she’ll leave the moment she gets the chance?”

One hand on the table, and the table rocked, the pile of chips Levi had meticulously organized fell in one crash, the few others as they slid amongst each other, colors mixing amongst one another.

Yelena was the first to speak. “Focus on the game, Ackerman.”

“Check.” He didn't have the best hand. As the river opened up to reveal a potential for a flush, he still thought it worth a shot.

Zeke pushed a huge pile of chips to the front. “Raise to a hundred thousand dollars.” Almost all of Levi’s available funds.”

“Fold,” Levi said.

The button switched. Levi and Zeke dealt their blinds again. Yelena dealt another two cards. And the game continued.

Carefully raising the corners of his pair, Levi noted a three of spades and a queen of hearts. Even before Yelena had dealt the river on the table, Zeke had already pushed his pile to the middle. “Raise to a hundred thousand dollars.”

Levi couldn’t win, and just like the hand before, he folded.

It continued with that same pattern for the next ten hands. Zeke started to bait him, going all in towards the fourth hand, enough for Levi to lose all his savings, and Levi would fold. Hands later, Levi had lost the winnings of the first hand, he had absorbed a net loss. Zeke’s large pile was starting to seem more ominous.

Circumstances. The word started to hold more gravity as Levi reflected the unfairness of it all. Zeke wouldn't have minded putting one year’s worth of Levi’s salary in a single round, he had more than enough to spare.

You can’t win against money. What the hell was he thinking, giving up his blinds every single time. Zeke obviously bluffed a few times. No one would be lucky enough to have a streak of good hands.

But which hand? Levi thought loudly to himself, as if by some miracle, a god-sent answer could echo in his head.

“We can do this all night,” Zeke said, his composure once again collected, the exchange of a while ago forgotten.

Levi lost track of the number of hands. A quick look at his chips only made him realize he had forty thousand dollars left. Did he lose that much by just folding?

He would lose a hundred dollars that night if he continued playing but when he willed it, he realized was ready to lose that money. But the more Zeke played, the more he spammed all ins, the more urgent the loss started to seem.

It took a few more handsfor Levi to gather the courage to play, even with the stakes completely against him. Levi spared some thought to calculation, taking from Zeke’s rulebook.

Tells.

Zeke wore a poker face...Nothing there.

Circumstances

He had to do something fast, or risk losing all his money.

Numbers

Most importantly, statistics were on his side. He had opened his new hand to find a pair of aces.

Ace of Clubs. Ace of Spades. Statistically, the best poker hand. He could easily win everything back.

Then came the first three cards.

Ace of Diamonds. Queen of Diamond. Nine of Clubs.

“Raise to ten thousand dollars,” Zeke said.

Three of a kind, with the strongest cards. “Call,” Levi responded.

The next card was dealt. Ten of diamonds.

“Bet twenty thousand dollars,” Zeke said.

“Call,” Levi said again, pushing his pile of chips to the middle of the world. He couldn’t be too sure how he looked then. Were his hands shaking? It wasn’t a graceful movement for sure. He had to push his pile to the middle with three clumsy movements while Zeke did it in one elegant push.

But Levi noted the subtle way at which Zeke raised his eyebrows before they met eyes. And for one second, Levi allowed himself a long stare, a slight movement of his lips, nothing close to a smile. If that one expression would be enough for Zeke to fold and give up everything, it was worth a try.

It wasn’t.

Yelena dropped the last card on the board. An Ace of hearts.

“Raise to one hundred thousand dollars,” Zeke said, notably louder than every other time before.

Enough to make Levi jump, enough for him to doubt. He snuck another look at his cards. Four of a kind. You’re fine. Why was his heart still beating wildly? Why was meeting Zeke’s eyes for a while longer such a harrowing experience?

It’s a poker face. People do this when they play poker. Levi told himself and the longer he was able to convince himself that Zeke knew what he was doing. And maybe it had always been good practice to stay calm, even when everything was stacked against you.

“Showdown,” Yelena said.

Or maybe Zeke just wasn't that connected, especially since nothing much was at stake for him.

It could have been all those guesses, or it could have been the ugly one that opened up in front of them right then and there.

And it looked like Zeke had figured it out first. “Have you heard of the term bad beat?”

Levi was taking longer than usual to make sense of the cards, much slower than usual and maybe it had been the exhaustion of calculating the past almost countless hands.

“There is roughly a four thousand to one chance of getting a four of a kind. But sometimes, people have something better than that… Not often but… It’s still worth considering.”

Something better. And when Levi was considering every hand better than a four of a kind, it became much easier to scan the river then Zeke’s hand for the answer.

Zeke had two cards: King of Diamonds and Jack of Diamonds. A Royal Flush.

“There’s a six hundred thousand to one chance of actually getting a royal flush. First one in my life.” Zeke could have been genuinely amazed, but that big ham reaction had been more than enough to piss Levi off.

It made it difficult to sit still.

“When you consider circumstances, you introspect, you strategize and you pray for a little luck,” Zeke said. “Believe me, you had every other chance to win before. I went all in with the worst cards and you folded every single time. Are you that terrified of losing a few thousand dollars?”

Hundreds of thousands of dollars. Levi corrected in his head. An annual salary’s worth. And maybe that was the point Zeke had wanted to make. By circumstances alone, Zeke had manipulated Levi's choice.

Zeke smirked. “Circumstances rely on luck too and luck is a funny thing. Even if you play everything correctly, you can still lose. Life’s unfair isn’t it.”

“You had less to lose than I did,” Levi said, his lip trembling. “That’s all there is to it. If you lost all the money, you would have put more in.”

“I would have,” Zeke admitted.

“I was playing a losing game.”

“At least you got the lesson. These are your circumstances. Every life lesson everyone should have learned from birth, life isn’t fair. I’m surprised you’re expecting that from a casual game.”

“I never said that. I knew I was playing a losing game and I expected that.” It had taken all his effort to keep his reaction unreadable, and god he wished he had managed it every other time before. “Thank you for the food. Thank you for the game. Thank you for covering for me and Hange.”

With the game over, it didn't look like he felt compelled to wipe that smug grin off his face. And there were things Levi wished he could tell Zeke, and maybe it was worth the risk. “One last thing, I don’t agree with you about relationships, businesses being like games. Loving isn’t a game. When you give all this money to Hange do you expect her to give back? You expect to be able to manipulate relationships through circumstance alone?"

“I told you Ackerman, don’t tell me how to love my partner.”

"I don't have enough fucks to give for every single person in this world. I’m not telling you how to love the person you married because I actually give a fuck about your love life. I’m only telling you how to love your partner because your partner just so happens to be Hange and Hange’s a free bird. She doesn't deserve at all to be loved like that. Don't cage her in with circumstances. Don’t tie her down with money, with a debt of gratitude.” He pushed his seat back and walked away.

“Where are you going?”

“I need some fresh air.”

The sliding door wasn’t locked. He forced it open gently then too hard, enough to make it rattle, He gave one was long look at the infinity pool then leaned his arms on the balcony railings. He took a deep breath.

And that reprieve was just a little too short. It turned out Yelena followed behind him, a piece of paper in hand. “Zeke’s bank details,” she said.

That had seemed too abrupt. But really, what was he supposed to expect, a consolation prize? Hange’s location?

“It would be much easier if you paid immediately,” Yelena said. “Do you have the money on hand?”

He didn’t have the credit rating to pay that in one go. He opened his own banking application and attempted to transfer that much in one go.

Bank error.

“We accept checks,” Yelena said.

Levi had never dealt with checks. His credit card limit was far less than how much he needed to pay. And a few exchanges later, a quick google search later, Levi had figured it out. He could pay by wire transfer but by god, and just the wire transfer would cost him more money than necessary.

Levi was a man of principle though. Slip of paper on hand, Yelena’s contact details on his phone he made his way out of Zeke’s presidential, without even bothering so much as a goodbye. It looked like Zeke had retired to his own private room or study anyway. Did he need that pleasantry from Levi of all people?

On the way back to his own hotel, he took a long cut, through the hotels that connected to one another through glass pathways, a few floors above ground. He made sure to take a longer time than usual, enough time to reflect on his own shitty luck.

A fruitless reflection with a very very repetitive and depressing conclusion. That’s just how life is?

If it hadn't been for those two who had talked a little too loudly by the side, maybe Levi would have deemed it fruitless.

If didn’t look to his right to see the entrance to the casino, if he didn’t walk quickly past the slot machines, taking in the red plush carpet, he would have said it was a total waste of time. The dim room only further accentuated the lights that never seemed to come from an exact same place. The casino had a way of just letting some strange feverish state, some illusion blanket his surroundings.

Hange Zoe. The man at the front had said her name, too proudly, as if in total amazement. For a while, the dazzling casino lights had him doubting that name clipped into one brief exchange. Others seemed to be talking about her too. Then he was following the crowd.

Murmurs of Hange Zoe, none of them demeaning or admonishing. Others seemed breathless, and Levi thought it worth his time, to tiptoe just to see a good look of what they were staring at.

Fruitless.

Levi dove into the crowd, slipping his way through, bending over, moving his hand through when necessary. He never made it to the front, but he did note the messy mop of brown hair, tied into a high ponytail, bent over the table. The autumn jacket, the side profile and the glimmer of some tight lips.

Hange was deep in thought in the middle of what looked to be some poker game. Her own pile of poker chips right next to her, much larger than everyone elses. He knew her enough to make that type of guess.

Circumstances.

Levi decided it would be a waste of time. Circumstances were never his to control anyway. They were Zeke’s, they were hers.

Hange Zoe’s win again.

How many hands had she played before that?

She’s cheating.

No, she’s just lucky.

I heard she calculates every single hand.

Levi felt some sense of superiority, knowing something the murmuring crowds didn’t.

All summarized into three things. Firstly, lady luck was probably on her side, it had always been as if making up a string of misfortunes in a previous life. Secondly, she probably calculated every single hand. Third, Hange would never ever cheat.

And those would be last few thing he would allow himself be proud of. That would be the last time he would think of Hange as someone remotely his.

As Levi turned the heel and walked back to his hotel, he decided, although it wasn’t too fruitless a detour, he still regretted making that quick trip into the casino.

***

If Levi knew he would have felt like shit as soon as he came back from vacation, maybe he never would have gone on that stupid vacation in the first place.

Monday. Monday morning. Those words managed to taste bitter, even when Levi was barely forcing it out of his mouth. It could have been the fact that he barely had time to get over the jet lag or it was just way too early in the morning. Scratch that, it wasn't any of that at all.

Zeke was sitting on the couch, seeming very much unaffected by what should have been transoceanic jet lag and very much unaffected by the words that came out of Erwins house just a second ago.

At first, Levi even doubted what I heard, attributing it to exhaustion. He turned back to Zeke, no sadistic grin, no furrowed brows. He was calm, unimpressed and all business.

"Sorry… it's too early in the morning… I don't think I heard you correctly,” Levi said, an attempt at professionalism even with the trappings of shock, disbelief and very inconvenient drowsiness.

“We don’t usually invite lower management to these types of meetings… But Mr. Jaeger requested you be here, to answer any questions that might pop up...” Erwin said apologetically.

“No. Not that… You mentioned it a while ago...Why is Mr. Jaeger here?”

"We’re making amendments to the contract," Erwin answered.

“And why do you need me here?”

“He’s here to buy the love alarm,” Erwin said so casually that Levi had to clear his throat, get rid of whatever popping sensation had been going on in his ears.

My love alarm. The love alarm he worked more than half a decade on. The love alarm which he knew like the back of his hand, from the backbone of the codes to the front end bugs.

"It's for sale?" Levi spat out. There were only so many ways he could speak and so many ways he could even articulate the emotions running through his head.

Erwin cleared his throat, seeming uncomfortable at such a simple question. "Initially no… we never considered selling it but when Zeke called about it last week, we thought it worth a conversation.” He turned to Zeke then back to Levi. “We were able to run through Zeke’s proposal with the higher ups last Friday, and given the generous proposal, we are more than willing to sell him the rights to the Love Alarm and the Emotions Alarm project.”

How much did he offer? Levi instinctively looked towards Zeke but he soon figured out that no matter what he said, Zeke probably would never disclose the final price. In some vague response, Zeke pulled the brown envelope on the table closer to himself. "Everything has a price,” he said matter-of-factly.

Erwin spoke up. "I did the calculations as soon as I received your call last Thursday and it looks like it would be more than enough to cover what potential earnings we expected within the next two years and more than enough for the development of another project.

Last Thursday night. The night they had met in Zeke’s penthouse suite. Was buying the love alarm an impulse decision on Zeke’s part? The timing just seemed too right.

And they only continued to talk about it, as if Levi wasn’t there. What did an engineer know about business though or about purchases as high volume as the rights to the love alarm?

For something that had taken countless all nighters over time and years of development, the process of selling it just seemed too easy. “Mr. Jaeger, if I may ask, what made you consider buying the love alarm?” Levi asked.

“Hange’s research,” Zeke said, as if it was the most obvious and the most noble reason in the world.

“And when you buy it, what then?” Levi challenged.

“I’ll work with Hange. We’ll hire new developers to fix the bugs you never fixed. We’ll further improve the product and the code and we’ll break the product down, see what else we can use to improve the emotions alarm project.” The answer was disappointing, a far cry from what Levi wanted to hear.

Your other plans with Hange. He had opened his mouth, ready to expound on the question.

Erwin though may have sensed the thick tension between them. "You have the contract?"

Zeke nodded. "I had our lawyer work on it over the weekend, a rush job. You can run through it with the higher ups and I'll have someone pick up a signed copy by this week"

"Believe me, we’re decided, you can even pick it up tomorrow," Erwin said as he opened the envelope, pulled out papers and flipped through the pages. For a second, he dropped the paperwork on the table then onto the page where the executives were expected to sign.

All familiar names from the big wigs all the way, down to Erwin. Levi's name wasn't there at all. Figures, Levi after all, was merely an engineer. He couldn't help but sense irony though in the fact that the one who knew the most about the product had no say in its actual fate.

Erwin's words only made the irony seem more glaring. “We'll use the next two weeks to do some clean up on our end, pack up the resources and work on data migration.”

By ‘we��, Levi knew Erwin would be ordering him to do that.. He couldn’t help but feel slightly cheated though. He would be basically ordered to take apart something he built from scratch, send it off and never see it again. And the longer he stared at the contract that would be ordering all that, the more desolate the air around him seemed to feel.

The product he had worked on for years, taking apart every now and then, breaking and putting back together to find even the smallest bugs, going on countless hours of overtime over, was like a child to him, a child he was unwillingly sending it away to some known.

Some masochistic part of him had him still staring at the contract, long enough still to remember his first contract when he first signed into the company, something that stayed snug into the back of his mind, unexpectedly kicking his arse then.

Ownership of Intellectual Property. Employee agrees that the Company shall own, and Employee shall (and hereby does) assign, all right, title and interest...

Everyone in the room seemed to have too much regard anyway for pleasantries anyway and never felt the need to clarify it. Levi had to rely on his own memory of Zeke saying it just a few days ago in his hotel room.

The company pays you. Any effort, ideas, projects you put into our product is company property.

And Zeke will be buying it so it will be his property.

Whether Zeke even knew how the alarm worked didn’t seem to matter to him though.“So, I guess in a matter two weeks, all server data and resources should be with Jaeger corporation.”

Erwin nodded. “We’d be happy to expedite the process. If all goes well, yes.”

When a huge sum of money was on the line, suddenly red tape was so easy to squeeze one’s way through. It took an enormous amount of effort to stay calm as they signed away the culmination of his own hard work, his countless hours of overtime, the blood, sweat and personal investment he put into that one application, all signed away in a brief second, all the red tape of a few weeks ago, non-existent.

Erwin turned to him, “If you can stay behind after the meeting, so we can discuss the logistics…”

Most days, Levi appreciated the manner at which Erwin spoke, the way he took some regard of Levi’s own time when giving orders. That day, there were too many things happening to even appreciate.

What else do you expect me to do? Say no? Hell, he had wanted to say no, but by the glaring lack of his own name on the contract, the glaring lack of regard for his own opinion on the matter, Levi could only seethe silently.

“Oh yeah,” Zeke snapped his fingers, loud enough to call Levi’s attention. “Hange sends her regards. She enjoyed working with your company a lot.” He turned to Levi and gave him a nod. “And to you too Ackerman, I just have to say we’re very grateful for your hard work and your generosity.”

What generosity? The implication that Levi had any say on commercial decisions seemed mocking.

“We’ll take good care of both applications,” Zeke continued. “And regards from Hange, she wishes you all the best with Petra.”

Petra. Levi let out a cough, letting out a subtle look at Erwin. If the latter did seem bothered, he didn’t show it.

With that, Zeke left the room, and Levi started to understand how someone could keep such a confident demeanor even with the slightest inconveniences. Somehow, having that many assets, wealth and power under one’s belt really had that paper.

The way he strode, embodied it, the way that in just a few phone calls, he had completely dismantled everything Levi had worked on, making it his own.

And when he closed the door gently behind him, leaving Levi and Erwin alone in the room, Levi was reminded once again, the love alarm, the emotion alarm, were never his, as much as he would have wanted to claim ownership.

They were never his, but suddenly they were Zeke’s. Levi turned to Erwin, narrowing his eyes, as he watched the blonde make his way to the desk. Erwin seemed uncomfortable as if he sensed the strange betrayal that something so standard as corporate procedure could bring. Then he cleared his throat and spoke up.

Two weeks. Levi was given two weeks to clean everything, migrate all data and vacate the office.

It was the company's project but it was Levi's responsibility. There was a broken partnership which somehow ended with two products sold. Yet even with all the damage dealt by that deal, the management needed some scapegoat from within the company.

Erwin had explained everything with as professional of a face as possible. With the tight lipped attempt at a grin that followed, the way he had avoided Levi’s eyes one too many times, Levi suspected Erwin knew more than he was letting on.

The photos maybe? The bug with Hange? The broken partnership? Of course someone would end up having to take the blame for giving Zeke a ‘bugged’ application.

Too many reasons, many among those rooted in some attempt to save face, in filthy office politics. And by then, Levi hadn’t been expecting too much.

That probably had been the reason that when Erwin looked back at him with a much softer expression, Levi couldn’t help but let out a long sigh, something to abate whatever emotion was threatening to let loose.

I didn’t think it was right for the mastermind behind the application to be terminated completely empty handed.

Erwin had arranged for some severance pay after the two weeks were over.

Enough to get out of the country, start somewhere else.

A job termination shouldn’t have been enough to be driven out of the country. Levi didn’t make too much sense of Erwin’s words until he had experienced it for himself a week later, through an empty email inbox after sending out the same resume to twenty companies for over thirty roles.

Have you heard of a no poach agreement? Erwin had asked back in the office.

A no poach agreement?

It’s technically illegal so this usually comes as a verbal agreement among companies. They’d note their best employees and if they have to let one go, all companies agree, they cannot hire them for a certain period of time, five to seven years. It's a 'scratch my back, I'll scratch yours' type of deal.

To keep company secrets apparently or to keep Levi from making a similar application in any other company.

If you want to continue working in the development industry, your best chance would be abroad.

Around one week left before his termination would become effective and Levi gave up on finding a development job in his city, hell even his country. Around that time he had started to clean up his studio apartment, throwing out whatever was needed.

He started looking through immigration laws, consulting when necessary. He looked through apartments in other cities, then labor laws. The severance pay was more than enough at least to get him out, and Erwin had been a big help in straightening other legalities out.

He had an extra few weeks to clean out his room, pack up his things, straighten out immigration issues and buy a damn ticket out of there.

In between, his final week at work. He had never considered leaving his job of over a decade to have ended such a long bittersweet moment. In reality, he never really had the time to appreciate normalcy and he felt some regret at that.

Migrating server data, resources, making sure everyone under him had straightened out their leaves, making sure they were assigned to new projects took time. Allowing himself reprieves in-between to just sit down, and stare at half filled boxes also took longer and more effort than he had expected it too.

He stared at the ever increasing boxes that lined his office walls for a while longer. Surprisingly, for someone so fastidious, he had a lot he needed to clean out, both inside the computer and outside.

You will lose all accesses, to emails, to chat accounts and to company property by end of day Friday. He got that same message, in different forms from human resources, from Erwin and Levi was on a strict time limit to get everything out.

In some protest, some act of empowering rebellion, Levi was taking his sweet time. He continued to reserve conference rooms, staying out of his own room as much as possible, going through each line of code slowly as if he they were all individuals all deserving of their own greeting.

He started with the backend, then went to the frontend. He looked through the pull requests and the merge requests and the fixes that would never make the next release.

And Friday couldn’t have come any faster. By then, Levi had ninety percent of  his office space cleaned out. He entered the room to find his own team lugging out some of the boxes.

100 percent done then? Levi thought to himself.

Eld was the first one to speak up. “We thought you’d need some help. We heard you only had until five to vacate the room." Yet, he had the expression of a guilty child caught taking cookies from the cookie jar at midnight.

His whole team looked similar.

Levi shook his head. "No, this is much appreciated," he said. A stiff choice of words if he did say so himself but the last few hours of work weighed on him more heavily than the days leading up to it.

He only had two hours before he lost access to everything he had worked on for years.

He held his work laptop close to himself as he watched them lug box after box out of the room.

"Eld was suggesting we go get something to eat tonight," Gunther suggested.

"That depends…" Levi started. Definitely, whether he enjoyed it depended on how quickly he could brush off that weight then that tightening in his chest. "Have you talked to your new team leads? Your new managers?" he asked, an attempt at a light conversation. He wondered if his expression betrayed his words.

Maybe they did. "Or we could wait a few days," Eld said.

"We'll see. We have a few more hours before the end of day," Levi said. He slipped past them and walked back into his office.

Shelves empty, desk spotless and even the floor shone with some unsettling gleam. It had always been spotless, he made sure of it but there had always been something melancholic about rooms that had been full for years, suddenly empty.

And until a few weeks ago, the room had felt like Hange. He had deliberately left many of the crooked books on the shelf, the crooked documents, the titled reusable paper tray and the test devices messily lined up on the shelfs because Hange had left it that way.

And the whiteboard right next to his desk which Hange had failed to clean many weeks before was suddenly wiped clean. Levi didn't even noticed he let out a sound, a mix between a gasp and a whimper when he saw Hange's list of emails completely gone, erased over.

"You okay in there, boss?" Petra asked.

"Someone cleaned the whiteboard," Levi said.

"Oluo, I told you he'd point out your shitty job cleaning the board!" Petra said, from just outside.

Oluo responded. "Well, he's not going to be using it anymore so I though--- Ow!" Some silence followed, then approaching footsteps. "Sorry sir, I'll clean it again."

"No, it's fine," Levi said, he put his hand up, as if to stop Oluo from making that quick trek back to the white board. "I'll clean up the rest. Thanks for the help."

For once, he was grateful for someone's carelessness. The white board wasn't as clean as he thought it was a second ago and maybe because he would have rather it wasn't clean.

Hange wrote in crooked lines where ends hit one another, others fell and the fonts and sizes were never too similar from one line to the other. And the closer Levi came to the whiteboard, he noticed it, one email peeking out, spared by the shoddy erasing job.

Wingsoffreedom132

Hange had multiple emails she used for testing and when Levi opened his work laptop one last time, enjoying the last few hours of access as he cleaned up folders and code repositories, he found himself looking back at the email.

Does she still use it? He asked himself

Maybe. It was worth a try at least.

He looked once again around the room, the very empty room. Then he looked back at his screen, opened the repositories that were ready to be sent out to the point person from Jaeger corporation.

Then he opened his own personal folder, the unfinished codes from the love alarm then the mood alarm then the plans, the files and on the upper left of the file 'the Mood Alarm.'

To hell, with red tape, bureaucracy and all that shit. It was his project, right at his fingertips. It wasn’t Zeke’s nor was it management. The only reason they probably hadn’t sacked him on the spot was because he was the only one who could have so efficiently organized it before they sent it off to some poor sap who worked under Jaeger corporation.

He allowed himself one rebellion, or more specifically a string of rebellions.

If he were forced by some bureaucracy to send all the resources of the love alarm and the mood alarm to Hange, he would do it on his own terms.

He disconnected from the office wifi. He opened a hotspot then he opened his own personal email. Opening an incognito tab, he transferred all the codes and resources to his own personal repository, organizing it in a similar manner.

Then copied the link and started to compose an email.

To: wingsoffreedom132@wahu.com

All the codes for the love alarm

He pasted the link right below.

All codes for mood alarm.

And below it, he pasted another link.

He waited for a few more seconds as the email loaded the attachment, the file with all the plans he had for the mood alarm, allowing himself a small smile as he imagined Hange pondering the name 'mood alarm.'

He vacillated between writing a message under and keeping it brief. Then a second later, his fingers moved for him, he didn't even realize what he had been writing until it was on the page, ending on a period for finality.

“Dedicate your heart.” He read it out loud, then he felt a pang on his chest and a twist at his gut.

Dedicate your heart to what? He didn't want Hange dedicating her heart to anything. He wanted her free, flying high, doing whatever the hell she wanted to, bound by no role, no debt of gratitude, no excuse for love.

Reach for the sky? Hell, she could probably even make it to the stars.

So he went for something that left him cringing.

Reach for the stars (or anything higher than that).

Then he added something, collateral from that rush of indignance.

Don’t let anything stop you. Just remember, I would have given you all these damn codes for free.

After sending the email, he took a few precautions. He cleared his history, his cache, his browser and he deleted the rest of the files in his laptop. With one hour before the end of day, he turned off the laptop.

“Do you need any more help?” Petra had entered the room, hands behind her back in some very faux casual manner. And she seemed to be avoiding his gaze.

Levi used that moment to wipe that last line of Hange’s email, as if that could have been evidence to that bout of rebellion. “I’m done. Let’s leave the rest to whoever will be cleaning up the desk.”

Petra didn’t seem at all suspicious, or maybe she didn’t care. “That’s good. WIll you be joining us for dinner?”

Levi nodded. “Maybe my leaving is worth a dinner.”

“You’re really leaving?”

“Looks like it.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“I bought a plane ticket, secured a visa. I'll go somewhere, far from here, then find a job or maybe work freelance.

“I want you to stay here.”

“I wanna stay here too,” Levi admitted. “But I couldn’t even find a job.”

“I’ll miss having you here… And working with that love alarm. I really believed in the product and it made me realize my own feelings too,” Petra leaned by the window, looking worse for wear.

When Levi gave a long look, he noted maybe she had been crying. He almost felt guilty for not even struggling to fight back tears then.

Maybe his body had already reached the point of pure catatonic, pure acceptance at the hopelessness of the situation. “I’m sorry.” What was he saying sorry for? “I mean— I’m sorry I can’t stay.”

Petra took a deep breath. “This is probably the only time I can say something so I’ll say it now and you know, if you believe in your love alarm, you probably figured it out already,” Petra started. “I like you, I really like you. Actually you know what, it might be love. I don’t know if that would change anything—”

“It won’t.” Levi kept his voice firm. “I bought the ticket. I organized my papers and I have a place to stay. I’m leaving.”

“For good?” Petra had on a wounded look, her mouth twisted into something similar to a pout, by her eyes were elsewhere as if she knew there was a little too much vulnerability in her voice. “So, whatever I feel, it won’t change anything?”

Levi shook his head. “I don’t think it would be fair to you if I accept your feelings. I’m in no hurry to date.” He let out a clipped sardonic laugh. “At this point, I’ll probably die alone.”

“You deserve—”

“And you deserve someone who wouldn’t decide to date you for convenience.” Maybe Levi had been a little too frank at that moment.

Petra didn’t respond, her mouth frozen in a tight lipped line.

“The love alarm will be back so maybe you can use that to find someone else whose alarm rings with yours,” Levi continued, his voice deliberately gentler. “Or what about growing something organically, without the help of that stupid app. I honestly think, sometimes the love alarm causes more chaos than actually fixes things.” He shrugged. “It depends on the circumstances really.”

Circumstances he probably would never understand. He turned back to the black screen and reflected for a long painful moment about it. He was a slave to circumstance.

They were silent for a while longer and Levi used that time to recover, willing himself not to meet Petra's eyes.

She broke the silence a few seconds later. “We’ll meet you by the gate for dinner?”

“I’ll see you then, just give me an hour or so,” Levi said, checking the clock on his phone. He had a little more than an hour left before EOD. “Or just text me when you find a restaurant.”

It took a little longer to convince Petra to leave and it had ended with them having to text Levi a familiar restaurant name.

Levi had taken his time doing nothing at all, just sitting on his office chair in his bare office room. He counted down the minutes on his phone until five. A few times he had even stared at the seconds counting down on the digital clock view on his phone.

Around a minute past five. He booted his laptop again, typed out his email and password.

Access Denied. Please contact your IT Administrator.

At exactly five in the afternoon, he lost access to the system. He took a deep breath and let reality weigh him slowly, then sink deep into him in one swift sensation.

The love alarm and the mood alarm were never his. Any delusion that they were his had dissipated with all the company accesses.

***

In an airport, the point past immigration is international space.

Maybe that explained that strange liberation that came with getting past immigration and walking through the gates, searching for his own. Or it could have been many things at once. He was out of his old job, out of his old environment and somehow, in its own way, it symbolized a new beginning.

Even as an international space though, some things weren’t completely unavoidable. Settling on the departure gate, Levi went through some final checklists on his phone.

He had a new bank account. He had a place to stay as soon as he landed.

And his inbox was a confluence of unread mail. Many of them were goodbyes, from colleagues, some from finance, from human resources, from his own team and he wondered how the hell people found out and what they were thinking about his leaving.

Erwin sent a few tips on taxes and getting housing loans. Petra had sent a ‘safe flight’ message with the same pleasantries of meeting up when she gets to visit.

There was one message was avoiding and he decided to open it last. He spent the first few minutes before that spamming the same thank you message to every single goodbye message.

That one other message after all, was easy to ignore, just a bank notification that money had been wire transferred.

One hundred thousand dollars, the exact money he had lost and sent over to Yelena, he realized as he opened the message and put a little more thought into it.

You have two weeks to claim it. Two weeks? The countdown started a week ago and he only had a week to claim it.

Actually, not even a week. Looking up at the boarding time, he realized he only had an hour. He could probably organize something to have it sent over to his new account. Considering timing and the logistics though was stressful enough already. And besides, his mind found it more enticing to just indulge the context behind such a large sum of money.

It could have been a scam. The amount of money though had seemed too much of a coincidence and admittedly, Levi was a still lovesick.

Don’t send me money. Just fucking talk to me. Levi whispered to himself. Just in case, just in case that was Hange.

In some indignant response, he decided to delete the message and instead, spend last few hours going through some obscure threads on the industry. Something he had been actively avoiding.

Business Jaeger Zeke Jaeger acquires the love alarm… The mogul had found a fatal bug on the love alarm…

In a noble effort to improve the efficacy and accuracy of the product, he took it upon himself to oversee development….

Head developer behind the love alarm has been terminated....

Unnamed developer. He had at least been given that much. Levi let out a sigh. For a high profile application, no one really figured out the name of the head developer. It was a thankless job but Levi never thought too much about the glory of it.

And at that moment, he could only be grateful for the anonymity, whether or not Zeke had done it deliberately.

Plane ready for boarding.

They would be starting with first class passengers first and Levi knew he had more than enough time to take a trip, to the farthest trash can, yet still something near enough to catch the flight.

He unzipped the front pocket of his backpack, pulling out a small sim card pin. He poked it, pulling out the tray, noting the bronze sheen of the sim card. It had taken him a few tries to hold the small card between his fingers and a few more tries to bend it between his fingers, bend it to the point of unusable.

He pocketed his phone and quickly made his way back to the boarding gate.

No bank account. No phone number. He wondered why he went through that much of an effort to destroy everything.

Maybe just for an attempt for a new beginning. Or maybe because he didn’t want her to find him.

The more he thought about it though, the sooner he realized he wanted her to find him. He just thought it better to assume that she wouldn’t even try.

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 13

first time readers click here 💖

TWs/Summary: In this house, we ship Reader/Tony's Rolls-Royce. Reader and Tony being dorks on a date. That's it that's the chapter. Lots of sass and Tony being Tony.

A question for my readers: Are you still invested? How's the slow burn? Is everything realistic? 👉🏻👈🏻🥺

As usual, my beta is @miscmarvelwritings . I love her.

"Nice digs, Cupcake."

"Nice ride, Tin Man."

The sass fell from my lips, warm and familiar, paving the way for our upcoming debut like the old, soft living room rug. Any awkwardness I had expected there to be left the moment I saw Tony pull up to my front gate in his Royce: the man was just that extra. The size of my estate, the five-figure outfit of mine - it paled in comparison to his own clout. 

In a world where my choices were usually distributed between stuck-up rich boys or insecure middle-class men, Tony was a fresh drink of water with his absolute indifference towards my and his own net worth.

I wasn't afraid to admire said ride, either. Being a huge petrolhead was what got me interested in engineering, physics and computer sciences in the first place. The desire for speed grew into thirst for knowledge: how to get more horsepower, how to tune, how to mod. No mechanic took an eighteen year old rich-girl seriously even when I had all the lingo right, I had to be a step ahead, at all times, if I wanted my ride to be the best. And I never settled for less than that.

"No driver?" I inquired for the reason behind the unusual behaviour. After all, a Rolls' wasn't the kind of car you drive personally. All the amenities it had, it had in the back.

"Gave Happy a day off," Tony remarked absently. I noticed the small quirk of his eyebrow, however. He was intrigued.

I decided to give it a shot. "So what, this thing packs, what, about five-fifty horses?" I mused, watching Tony nearly swerve into the opposite lane. "At two and a half tons, it's still gotta be pretty quick with that V12-turbo. How fast it go?" The satisfaction was immeasurable, as pleasant to my soul as sitting in a heated leather chair with the smell of a new car, engine quietly rumbling in front of me. And by quietly I mean, it was focus-or-you'll-miss-it kind of quiet.

"Well aren't you full of surprises, baby girl," Tony grinned; a happy, excited grin even. It made his face lose ten years of age just like that. "Zero to sixty in five and a half seconds," He said after a moment. 

"Not bad," I said, sounding impressed. I already knew that but I wasn't planning on robbing Tony out of well deserved praise for his choice in vehicles. 

"Got a ride of your own?" He asked with a smile, like he didn't know it already. No background check would have skipped my three speeding tickets, but I concur. This game was fun.

"I do, actually. It's a 2008 Range Rover. Supercharged," I added in the end, just to emphasise.

"A big car for such a little girl," Tony whistled playfully.

"I'm compensating," I deadpanned. "I'm a little slow on the uptake, y'know, so my Rangie with five hundred horses makes up for it. Gotta keep it balanced."

Tony chewed on his lip. "Five hundred? Haven't heard about that, it comes with three-ninety-five in stock," His eyebrow wiggled. "Tuned it?" He cast me a contemplative glance.

"Yup," I exclaimed happily. As far as the date, I would have been utterly ecstatic to talk about cars all evening. Screw the boring "where do you see yourself in five years" questions, talk to me about your favourite engine swaps. Concept cars, give me those. Monster trucks? Yes, please. Vintage low-riders? Couldn't wait to get my grubby little hands on one. Gimmee!

Tony kept his silence and kept his press smile starting the moment we set foot on getting out of the car. The place he'd taken me to was ridiculously upscale and fancy; the valet hesitated only for a second before catching the keys Tony so carelessly tossed in his direction. There was almost no fear in his body language when the boy approached the massive, expensive vehicle.

The hostess smiled big at Tony and gave me the world's biggest stink-eye when he looked the other way but what else is new? As soon as she left us in the privacy of our booth, I didn't hesitate to stick my tongue at her retreating back. A brief lapse in maturity, if you will.

Tony cackled, growing suddenly serious. "Did she bother you? I can get her fired. I should get her fired."

"Nah," I shrugged. "Don't really care, just wanted to showcase my amazing sense of humour." Snorting, I gave Tony a wink and a secretive grin.

"You really don't give a fuck, do you," His eyebrows twitched again, a sign of mild interest that I noted during our routine sciencing time together. Tony was incredibly expressive if one took the time to observe.

"I could suck your dick under the table right now," I answered honestly. "It's just that when God gave out things like dignity and shame, I wasn't home. Too many fun things to do, y'know," I spoke as casually as I could even though I was dying of laughter inside.

Eyes bulging, jaw hanging mid-way to the floor. Tony was serving Looks™ and I didn't mean just the white tee and purple blazer combo. "Princess, you're going to be the fucking death of me!" He took a sip from his water glass, smirking.

Finally releasing my mirth, I gathered my hands in a lock in front of me. His own, warm and calloused, reached over - I allowed the brief intimacy, clasping them, fiddling with the leather band of his watch. For a moment, it was just us, sitting in the dim light, discovering each other anew to Robert Johnson singing the blues and NYC bustling with life just behind the wall. 

The waiter took our orders - and if I totally butchered the Italian, Tony was gentleman enough not to make any remarks. 

"Somehow, every time I am with you, you both manage to meet my expectations to a T and surprise me at the same time," I wasn't able to completely ignore my nerves. My hand was still loosely in his and he didn't mind at all, me messing with his watch.

"How so?"

"I'm going to loosely quote someone, bear with me." Mr Davies's words popped into my mind just as I was wondering how to best articulate my feelings. "You're eccentric and interesting because it's, well, it's you, because it would be much weirder if we'd be sitting here and making boring small-talk and asking each other the genetic get-to-know-you questions," I briefly paused to sip my Dom Peringon and stare at our hands. Gathering my wits. "That would be why I don't do dates. It sounds so tedious on paper, just sorting through people until a person that's not absolutely mind-numbing comes around."

Tony was silent for a moment, the sheen of his eyes, the faraway look; he was lost in memories. Probably remembering all the girls he had charmed before. I didn't doubt it was easy for him: his smile was distracting and people usually were attracted to shiny things. He shone plenty. Also, most people were stupid, they never cared to look past the golden wrapper. I was convinced there was a diamond under it. But then again, I was biased.

"I've never thought about it that way, but I guess you're right," He finally said, serious. "With Pepper, at least, it was. Come to think of it, we never had that much in common, besides Stark Industries and her willingness to put up with my shit." It was painful for him to talk about her, that much was obvious. His laugh was forced and sardonic.

I, on the other hand, never understood why they got together in the first place. Or maybe I did - but the cold, composed Pepper and the chaotic, energetic Tony reminded me too much of my own parents. All four people in this fucked up equation could have been much happier if they choose... What? Being alone? That was terrifying, too.

I kept quiet, giving his hands a gentle squeeze.

"You know, this is so bizarre. Even an eighteen year old kid has got it figured out," He suddenly said, his tone bitter like the coffee that he loved.

"Woah, slow down," I put up a hand. "I never said I know what to do. I just said I know what NOT to do." The 'kid' remark would have made me eye-roll so hard my skull would crack any day. In this context, however, it was pretty spot on.

Tony snorted. "And how did you come by that information, pray tell, Baby?"

I huffed. "Have you met my parents?" We simultaneously cringed and I hurried to erase that mental image. "I make fun of myself for being into old dudes all the time," I made air quotes around the phrase that made Tony scoff, "But, honestly speaking, I've never even been on a date. Like a real one. Usually it's twenty minutes and I'm falling asleep mid-conversation. People can't seem to keep up with me or something," I felt genuinely dejected. "So many meaningless questions, so many downright idiotic comments. From men," I pointed out the obvious. "My mother used to tell me she thought I was gay because I didn't act like a girl... Whatever that means."

"That sounds pretty shitty," Tony was studying me like one would have been looking at an exotic animal in a zoo. "That said, I agree."

"That I don't act like a girl?" I teased him, the left corner of my mouth tilting upward. "Fuck that noise. I want to drive fast cars, drink straight liquor and have orgasms. If that makes me a dude... I look pretty good for a dude in a dress."

We laughed in unison, tension evaporating under the shared, mutual understanding. With Tony, it was easy. The waiter brought our selected dishes. Blink-and-he's-gone. Top notch service.

"A dude in a dress, can't say I'm surprised 'bout your lack of dates," He remarked conversationally, happily digging into his food. The noises he made were intriguing, to say the least, and I followed suit on my own food, finding it absolutely delicious. A delicious meal with a delicious man at my side. I refused to feel guilty about my thoughts.

"I guess I have exactly one (1) date on my ledger now," I raised my argument.

The fork clattered as Tony once again, came to a sudden realization. "Holy shit, you weren't kidding."

"No shit," I gave into the urge to roll my eyes. "But on the upside, my first date was with the most gorgeous, intelligent and witty bachelor of the city. I'd say I don't have it all that bad," I quirked an eyebrow at him.

"Aw, you're making me blush," Tony recovered quickly, grinning. "And don't be shy. The most desired bachelor of the country, if not the world."

I shook my head. "No, the world's most delectable bachelor is one of the Saudi princes. What's-his-name, the one who posts goat and horse pics on Insta," I snapped my fingers a couple of times, trying to remember the name as Tony looked at me all offended. "Anyways, you get my point. I could have a go at him, don't you think?" Cocking my shoulder, coyly twirling the strap of my dress, I gave Tony my best come-hither look and was rewarded with an appreciative once-over. His eyes were growing hungry again. 

"You're a million dollar baby," He finally said, voice low. "And the extent of people I would be willing to share you with is very small."

That got me interested, sudden heat prickling underneath my skin. The conversation took a turn I didn't expect it to; and there lied the delight of being around Tony. He was always ready to surprise, in the best way. "Tell me," I requested politely.

"That's a conversation for another time," He was enjoying the chit-chat, desire beginning to creep into his features.

"Mmm, you think?" I allowed the strap of my dress to slip down my shoulder, exposing a collarbone, showing him just how far I was willing to go to satisfy my curiosity.

He swallowed audibly. "I think... You're smart enough to figure it out," He finally gritted his teeth, finishing off his dinner and immediately calling for the check. 

I wasn't done yet, however. The possibility of riling him up, taunting him into a lustful frenzy - I was in heaven. Karma had favoured me that evening, it had given me a chance to get Tony back for all the times he unknowingly made my mouth water and my brain go blip. "Must be Steve then," I bit my lip in thought. 

Honestly? I was as clueless as the couple next table over. Steve it wasn't, that much I knew for sure, he and Tony had their little love/hate dramatic connection that always ended in a massive ego standoff. Tony would be on the frontline fighting against Steve if the blonde dared to show anything even remotely resembling romantic interest towards someone Tony himself had his eyes on.

"Princess," Tony growled, sarcastically raising an eyebrow.

"Not Steve," I replied, cracking a smile. Success! "You know, I'm really bad at guessing who's into me. Unless someone is balls deep in me," My face was mere inches away as we quickly shrugged on our coats. "And even then, I can't be sure."

My giggling was accompanied by Tony shaking his head in exasperated fashion; he took my hand nonetheless and I happily swayed it between us, poster child for "not a care in the world". He allowed it, maintaining the same exasperated air about him, and I let him. Fondness and happiness seeped through that anyways.

"Brat," His voice was kind. And his kiss tingled where he left it on the corner of my mouth, sweet and short. "Here, have a go," Before I could react, the keys to his Rolls Royce were placed in my palm and he was making his way around the car to the passenger's side.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway (it finally let me tag you)! @softie-socks @schemefrenzy

[tomholland20]

Chapter 2: A beautiful evening!

Cast:

Peter Parker: Tom Holland.

(Peter's aunt) May Parker: Marisa Tomei.

Y/n: You/ reader

(Y/n’s dad) Tony Stark: Robert Downey, Jr.

(Y/n’s mom) Kathryn Stark: Jennifer Aniston.

(Y/n’s brother) David Stark: Shane Harper.

(Peter's best friend) Ned: Jacob Batalon.

(Peter’s best friend) MJ: Zendeya

Warning: PG-13, bad language, violence, sadness, kissing, etc...

Credit: My best friend Anjali, who helped me with this story!

Before you start reading and you haven’t read this story from the beginning please go and read it from there it will make more sense!

Note: Hey guys, so I wrote this story for Marvel and Tom Holland/Peter Parker fans! I just want to say that this is just a fun story for entertainment purposes. I mixed everything up in this story, their love, action, drama, and more. And as you can see by the cast, I mixed it up. This is a story about Peter Parker and Y/n (your name) story. I hope you like it!! If you want a girl and a Peter Parker version tell me and I will do one........

Summary: You move to a new school where you find yourself falling in love with a guy named Peter Parker and can’t get over him... You and Peter knew each other for 3 years because he had an internship with your dad Tony Stark but you never really talked to him. One day during a scary fire that takes place in the mall. Spider-man (Peter Parker) comes to save you from the deadly fire. Later on in the story, You find out about Peter Parker being spiderman. This story is full of drama, romance, love and more, I hope you enjoy it!!

Chapter 2: A beautiful evening!

After 2 weeks of going to school, you and Peter became close. You also became close to MJ Peter's best friend as she was in the same drama play as you. Peter and Ned both forced you to watch Star Wars, which you really liked. Everything was changing, you were finally smiling genuinely and you were getting over your ex. It was like a new beginning for you. People at school liked you, you were smart, good looking, and nice. You were kind of popular as you’re Tony Stark's son.

“Hey, Y/n!” Peter yelled across from the school hallway

“Hey” you replied. “What happened, are you ok?” You asked, Peter looked tired and he was out of breath.

Peter: "Yeah I'm ok, umm do wanna come over today? I have math homework and I was thinking maybe we can do it together?”

Peter was so timid when he started talking to you, even you were shy when he asked you to come over.

Y/n: Yeah sure... w-what time?

Peter: Is 5 good?

Y/n: yeah! Well, 5 it is then!

Peter: Sure! See you... bye.

Y/n: bye…

5:00pm

It was finally 5 pm and you were ready to go to Peter's house. Happy your dad’s assistant dropped you off at Peters place. “Ok, y/n I want you to take care of yourself and be in your best behavior.” You were a little curious as to why Happy had to say that but you agreed with him and went inside. You were in front of Peter's doorstep, you took a deep breath as if you were going on a date with him. You knock on the door and May (Peter’s aunt) opens the door. “Oh let me guess, you must be Y/n! Peter talks a lot about you." “Hi, Mrs. Parker, yes I’m y/n” you give May a big smile and she offers you to come in. “Do you want anything to drink?”

May: ok then, I’ll call Peter

“Peter y/n is here.” Peter runs out of his room and walks right towards the living room where you were. “Wow, are you ok? you look stressed.” “Yeah, I’m fine don’t worry! Wanna get started with math homework?”

Y/n: sure!

Peter brings you to his room. His room was full of Star Wars DVDs, there was a bed and a tv along with his table. Peter takes out his math homework and starts working. While working you notice a bad cut on his hand that he was trying to hide from you. Your eyes opened wide. “Peter, how did you get that cut,” you say in a tensed way. “It’s nothing I promise.” “do you have a first aid box here?” “Y/n don’t worry.”

Y/n: “tell me!”

Peter: “there is one in my bag”

You quickly run towards where his bag was and open it. You look for the first aid kit and as soon as you find it you hurry towards Peter. Without saying anything you open the first aid kit and taking Peter's hands and you start to clean the cut. “Ouch!!.”

“Sorry! Does it hurt?” You ask looking towards him with a worried face. This was new to you caring so much for someone that you cant even control your emotions in front of them, even though you had had a boyfriend this still felt new and you liked this feeling. “A little..” he replies with a little smile, ‘oof someone needs to tell this guy to stop smiling like that, that damn smile is going to be the death of me’ you thought. You smile back at him and keep cleaning the cut, finishing it with a bandage.

Even though you couldn't see, Peter has been busy trying to contemplate this weird feeling, attachment towards. Weirdly enough he liked how you cared about him, made him smile, made all his days feel fun and he even wanted to tell you something but didn’t. After a while both of you were quiet and were done with the homework. May comes running into the room saying “pizza is here!” she hands out your pizza’s. “Oh I have to leave soon.” “It's ok, stay for pizza at least” Peter requests you. You couldn’t resist it so you stayed for 15 more minutes. You and Peter both sat down and started to watch star wars. “Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, how did you get that cut?” Peter stopped chewing on the pizza and looked at you “Uh I was in a rush so I guess my hand cut into something.” He says “You should be more careful next time you know” you tell Peter with a little giggle. You and Peter finish eating and start talking about each other. “Since you moved here I didn’t get to know much about you, so why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?” You look at Peter and smile "sure! Well I was born and raised in New York. Umm do I have to continue I’m really bad at this...” you and Peter share a little giggle again. “You’re really nice Y/n, seriously the way you handled my cut I really appreciate it, so thank you.” “No problem” you answered back blushing.

You get a phone call from Happy informing his waiting for you outside. “Oh Happy is here, I got to go. Thanks for having me over Peter!”

Peter: anytime!

You rush to the door saying bye to May and head out *take that bread and that head then leave!! Oky sorry bye*. You get in the car and Happy drives you home. “So how was your evening?”

“It was so romantic.” “What??” You snap out of your dreamy self and Happy is just surprised. “Oh wait no sorry I didn’t mean to say that, I meant it was good.” “You got me worried there.” You roll your eyes as you are tired of hearing people say things like that homophobic asswipes. When you reach home your brother walks out of the house and looks angry. “Hey, David'' you say when your voice fades away. You walk in and you see your parents tensed.

Y/n: Hey guys!

Kathryn: Hey honey.

Y/n: David just walked out, and he looked really angry.

Tony: don’t worry about him, how was your evening with Peter?

Y/n: it was good, we got to finish all of our homework, we ate pizza and watched star wars.

Tony: sounds like you had fun! Didn’t you...

Before you answer your dad’s question David walks back in again ignoring everyone in the dining room.

Y/n: Ok what’s wrong?

Mom: Sweetie, there's nothing to worry about. I promise you nothing happened. He's just a little moody.

Your dad cracks a joke saying “girlfriend problems” with a laugh, you also laugh since your brother was not the best boyfriend. *like who are kidding he’s so annoying how does his girlfriend even handle him? aight bye* Your mom looks at you and Tony.

Tony: What? it's true...

Kathryn: Don’t worry about any of these things right now. Tomorrow is a big day, there will be a new girl coming to school. She is your Dad’s Friend's daughter. So I want you to show her around the school along with Peter.

“Yeah I can do that” you reply fast as soon as you hear Peter’s name. “Aww honey thank you” she looks at you in a curious way. “You look really into Peter I can see, are you gay for him?” Your dad asks. “NOO” you say really fast. “I just want to make new friends, that's all” your dad looks at you and with his glasses by his nose. “I’m kind of tired so why don’t I go to bed now.” “Sure sweetie, good night!” “Good night mom, good night dad!”

Tony: good night!

You go to bed not being able to forget about your beautiful evening with Peter and you want the night to pass by fast so you can meet Peter again. You were really in love with him *only if that asshole knew jeez like can he just propose to me and get done with this shit? Babe I'm waiting? You here?*.

Note: Hey guys!! Sorry it took us so long to post this chapter. School and all has been stressful so we are sorry to keep you guys waiting. This chapter is soo cute honestly. I hope you liked it. Chapter 3 is on the way maybe we will be done by next Friday and then I will post it! But there is a lot to come in Y/n’s and Peters life. Do you think Peter is in love with you? What is he hiding from you? To find out read the story love in the air!

[something-tofightfor]

Tipping Point - 13

Pairing: Benjamin Greene x Reader

Word Count: 9025

Rating: NSFW-ish (There’s some language. Some adult themes. Some... zest.)

Summary: Finally back at your place, you and Benjamin spend the second to last day (and night) of his trip together - and a couple of very unexpected things happen. 

Author’s Note: This one got long too, but I couldn’t cut it in any other place. (I’m sorry) Getting this chapter right was really important to me - because it shows you what Benjamin’s true motivations are... as well as gives you (as a reader) a stronger sense of who this Reader really is, too.

He opened his eyes, blinking to focus them. This bed is… Stretching, Benjamin’s arm brushed against the balled-up blanket next to him and he turned his head toward it. What time is it? He pushed himself up with both hands, looking around the empty room. Obviously after nine. Benjamin rubbed a hand over his head and yawned, rolling out his neck. Downstairs. He got out of the bed and moved across the room and to the dresser, his gaze landing on the postcard that you’d picked up to show him only a few nights earlier before they moved down to the things that were on top of it - bottles of perfume, a brush, a small tray that was filled with jewelry. I don’t know why I’m looking, I won’t… I won’t be here much longer. 

 Benjamin turned away from the mirror, reaching for the t-shirt he’d removed the night before and pulled it on over his head, grabbing for his glasses on the nightstand and then leaving the room, making his way down the hallway. The two of you had spent a few extra hours downtown - managing to get tickets to the Skydeck as well as taking a guided architecture tour that put you on a boat that traveled along the shoreline and up the river. Sunny skies and warm but not hot temperatures had made it pleasant for both of you, and Benjamin knew that he’d think back on the trip often. We’ve got the pictures to prove it, too. 

 There were very few pictures of him and Julia - and there’d been even fewer of him with Allie, but in Chicago? He had photographic proof that you’d happily accompanied him almost everywhere he’d been. And I didn’t even have to convince her. Benjamin grinned as he made it down the final few steps and turned toward the room that he’d slept in for the first few weeks of his stay - the room you’d had turned into your home office. 

 The door was shut almost all the way, and though he paused before knocking, trying to listen and make sure you weren’t on the phone, he didn’t need to. “Come in, Benjamin. I hear the floor creaking.” Grinning wider, he pushed the door open, stepping inside and meeting your eyes. “It’s about time you woke up.” 

 “It’s barely nine.” He licked his lips, sitting on the arm of the couch, just behind you at the desk. “You act like it’s midday.” You laughed at that, reaching back with one hand and waiting until Benjamin took it in his, squeezing your fingers tightly. “I didn’t even hear your alarm, you -”

 “It didn’t go off.” You shrugged. “But you were out, Benjamin. You didn’t move, even when I was getting my clothes out of the closet.” I must have… needed the sleep. “I’ve got a conference call in about fifteen minutes, and then…” He leaned forward, cutting you off with a kiss - one that ended much too quickly for him. 

 “I won’t bother you. Just wanted to say good morning.” You were smiling when he pulled away, keeping his face close to yours. “Get back to work, I’ll go into the other room after I eat.” He felt your fingertips on his cheek and heard you sigh; a contented sound that he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of. “I’ve got some calls to make, anyway… Zac reached out while we were downtown, and so did Leo, so…” 

 “Sounds good, Benjamin.” You leaned back in your chair, Benjamin still leaning forward. “When I’m done here I’ve got to do some stuff outside. Eric said he’d cut the grass for me while we were gone, but he didn’t, and I cant put it off until Sunday night -”

 “I’ll do it now.” Benjamin stood, nodding. “Not a big deal, as long as the noise won’t -”

 “No, I can’t ask you to…” But he held up his hand, raising his eyebrow. “If… if you’re sure, you can…” I’m sure. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but… have you ever -”

 “Yes.” He laughed. “Julia normally had people come in and cut, but I’ve used a mower before.” He shrugged. “I’ll manage.” 

 “Go into the garage through the kitchen, and just press the button to open it. The gas is -”

 “I said I’ll manage.” He laughed again, leaning in and letting his lips rest against your cheek. “Get back to work.” Benjamin turned and walked back to the door, glancing over his shoulder at you before stepping back into the hallway. “Hey.” You turned to look back at him, one side of your mouth rising in a half smile. This feels too normal, too… right. He gripped the wooden door frame for a moment and then shook his head. Don’t question it. “When you’re done with work, can I…” He paused, straightening his shoulders. “Can I take you out to dinner?” You didn’t hesitate before you answered. 

 “Yes.” Chewing on your lip, you nodded. “I’d like that very much, Benjamin.” So would I. 

 A few minutes later, Benjamin was in your kitchen, standing in front of the stove and using a rubber spatula to carefully cook an omelette. As the pillowy eggs began to bubble around the edges, he reached over, grabbing a handful of cheese and sprinkling it over the surface before folding it over onto itself. Breakfast and then outside before it gets too hot. That way… when she’s done, we’ve got the whole night together.  He slid the eggs onto a waiting plate and then pulled two slices of bread from the toaster. I’ll have to look up places near here. Turning to the table, he frowned. This is the only date we’ll be … He sat, palms flat against the wooden surface of your table as he stared down at his plate. The only actual date we’ll be able to have while I’m here. 

 --- 

 Two hours later, Benjamin was stretched out on your bed, phone in his hands and his hair still wet from the shower he’d taken after mowing your front and back yards. Thankfully, there’d been a pair of Eric’s old Nikes for him to wear, and Benjamin hadn’t had to mow in his boots. I would have if I’d needed to, though. He grinned, staring up at the ceiling. Your lunch break fell while he was in the back yard, and more than a few times, Benjamin felt your eyes on him through one of the windows, watching as he mowed. He’d gone back inside to a large glass of ice water and a sandwich waiting on the counter for him, and after gulping it down, he’d gone straight to the shower, spending long minutes under the cold spray to remove the sweat and grass clippings from his skin, mentally reminding himself not to get used to the way he felt. 

 Find a restaurant. Call Zac. Message Leo. But Benjamin didn’t do those things in order, and to his surprise, he found himself pressing the button to call Leo first, mentally calculating the time difference in his head as the phone rang. He should be out of work, by now, and at home and - “Benjamin! How’s America treating you?” He cleared his throat, staring at the ceiling. That’s a loaded question. 

 “I’m… having a good time.” It’s not the whole truth. “I’ve seen a lot, Leo, it’s been…” He heard the younger man scoff on the other end of the line. “What?”

 “Mum’s about having a conniption over your trip.” That didn’t take long. “She came in to London on Wednesday for dinner with Patrick an’ me, and didn’t shut up about it.” 

 “Leo, she called me last weekend, said she couldn’t have been happier that it was finally over, I don’t -”

 “She said that, Benjamin. And she badmouthed you and that American girl you’re staying with, saying that you deserve each other, but she’s hurt.” She has no right to be hurt, I tried everything. I wanted to save the marriage, I… “Patrick agreed with her, of course, swearing and calling you every name in the book and reminding her that she saved herself loads of trouble by getting away from you quickly, but…” Leo paused. “Benjamin, mate, you look… you look happy.” I am. “And it’s not like there’s anything going on with you and… what’s her name again?” He reminded Leo absently, frowning. “You told me before you left that she’s seeing someone, yeah?” Yeah. Well. 

 “Yeah, Leo, about that.” Leo laughed, the sound clear through the speaker. “No, it’s not like that, Leo. Their relationship wasn’t what I thought it was, but… that’s not the point.” What is the point? “She’s happy to have her brother home, and -”

 “Looks like she’s spending quite a lot more time with you than she is with her brother, Benjamin.” You can tell this from pictures? Really? “Whatever makes you happy, yeah?” Yeah. “I’m surprised you called, though. You could have just sent back a text, it‘s what I’dve done.”

 “Yeah, well, you said you had something to ask me?” He heard Leo take a breath. “Leo?”

 “Yeah, look, Benjamin.” Leo paused. “I needed… I needed to ask you if…” Whatever this is, it’s… “I’ll be applying to a few places, and I wanted to see if I could use you as a reference. You know, a character reference, just since… since we lived together for all that time.” What? “You’re not technically related, and I know that we’ve had our -”

 “Yes. Of course, Leo.” Genuinely shocked, Benjamin sat up. “I’m not sure what I can tell them if they call, but…”

 “You saw me when I was working with Kieran, and I’m sure… I’m sure you can say something about how I’ve matured and… I donno, Benjamin, they might not call, and I…” 

 “Stop. I’ll sort it out if anyone calls, Leo.” He closed his eyes. “What did you mark me down as, though? I’ll need to -”

 “Family friend. A bit of a fib, but…” Benjamin laughed. “Seeing as I’m the only one in the family that really thinks of you that way, but…” You do? “Anyway, Sara and I are heading out to see a movie tonight, but I’m glad that I talked with you before we left.” 

 “I am too, Leo.” Benjamin stood, beginning to pace the small space between the foot of the bed and your dresser. “We’ll need to get together for that pint when I’m back, and you can  -”

 “No. You can tell me about your trip to Chicago, Benjamin. And everything that’s happened while you’re there.” There was a short pause. “I bet there’s a lot that the pictures don’t show, yeah?” 

 “You’re a lot smarter than people give you credit for, Leo Day.” Both men laughed, and when they’d hung up, Benjamin quickly typed out a response to Zac instead of calling, not expecting a reply. That’s sorted, then. Benjamin continued to pace for a few seconds and then headed downstairs, settling onto the couch and turning the TV on, idly flipping through channels. Plenty of time to look up a place to eat. She works for another three hours. 

 But the early wake-up coupled with the difficulty of cutting your lawn in the building heat only added to the lingering fatigue he felt from a few days of walking around the large city, and within minutes, Benjamin was slumped down against one arm of the couch, fast asleep. 

 --- 

 “Hey.” He felt a hand on his arm at the same time as he heard your voice. “Benjamin.” I’m dreaming. “If you’re going to sleep, at least lay down.” He cracked an eye open, seeing that you’d perched in front of him on the edge of your coffee table. “You must be -”

 “Come here.” Benjamin swallowed, pulling himself up into a sitting position. “I didn’t mean to … to fall asleep.” He rubbed a hand over his face, still waking up. How long did I sleep for? “What time is it?” He questioned you as you settled onto his lap, head leaning against his shoulder. “Are you done with -”

 “Yeah, I’m done for the day, Benjamin.” He kissed the top of your head, arms wound tightly around you. “I went upstairs when I finished, but you weren’t there, and then I found you sleeping here, and I didn’t want to wake you up.” He heard the uncertainty in your voice and felt the way your fingers curled against his chest. 

 “But?” You sighed. 

 “But this is the second to last night you’ll be here, and I didn’t think you’d want to spend it sleeping sitting up on my couch.” You’re right. “But if you -”

 “No. I want to take you out. On a…” He paused before he said the word, testing it out in his mind before making it reality. “On a date.” He hadn’t been out on a date - a real date since Julia’s birthday weekend, but the word felt natural coming out of his mouth in relation to you. I know we had downtown, but...“Only if you want to, though, I know that we’ve not gotten to that point yet, but we… I just…” He was fumbling with his words - not because he didn’t think you wanted to go out with him, but he didn’t know how you’d feel about the word date being used. “It doesn’t have to be a date, we can just go out as friends and -” You sat straight up, lips pressed together, but didn’t say anything. “Why are you looking at me like that?” 

 “Are you done?” Done what? “I can be ready in twenty minutes, Benjamin.” What? “If you think,” you said, speaking quietly and leaning in, biting one corner of your lip. “That after this last few days? After … this?” You gestured between the two of you, tone serious. “That I wouldn’t want it to be… a real date?” You kissed him, Benjamin leaning into the softness of it, the surety. “You’re crazy.” He tightened his hold on you even though the kiss was brief, his heart thudding in his chest. “And I already know you’re not crazy, Benjamin Greene.” You spread your fingers against his chest, palm flat. “So I’ll go get changed.” 

 You stood before he could say anything, pushing off of his lap and moving back toward the door. “Wait.” He was dazed - still waking up and surprised at how serious you were being with him. “Where do you… what do you want to eat, I need to narrow things down a bit, I’m sure there are tons of restaurants, and I want to be sure you -”

 “I’m not picky, Benjamin.” You shrugged. “We could go down the street to get burgers and I wouldn’t care.” What a difference. He thought back to Julia - to the way she’d turned her nose down at much of the Shard’s menu, at the idea of cooking at the flat, of ordering take-away on nights when they’d been occupied until late. This is so different. “But.” You crossed your arms. “There’s a place called Francesco’s. It’s… a little bit of a cliche, because… Italian, but the food’s good, and they change their specials twice a day.” You grinned. “So it’s kind of always a surprise what they’ll actually have.”

 “That keeps it interesting, right?” You nodded, agreeing, and then turned and left the room, leaving Benjamin alone. This is really happening, then. He gave himself a few minutes and then stood, too, following you out of the room. Instead of going upstairs, though, Benjamin returned to your office, already trying to decide what to wear. I’ve already made a good impression on her, but now I have to make a lasting one. 

 --- 

 “That was,” Benjamin said, pushing his plate away. “The best chicken I think I’ve ever eaten.” You laughed, taking a long drink through your straw. “Don’t you think so?” You’d gotten something else - having already had the dish that Benjamin had chosen - but he’d made you taste it once it had been delivered, unable to believe that something so good had come from such a nondescript restaurant.

 “No, it’s good Benjamin.” You shrugged. “I guess I just didn’t think you’d be so excited about -”

 “I am.” He reached across the table, squeezing your hand. “And it was, and I can’t think of a better meal to have ended this trip with.” We’ve still got tomorrow, but I don’t want to assume. “Thank you for suggesting this place, I’m glad we came.” 

 “Last meal?” You shook your head, eyes flicking to the waitress, who brought your check and set it in front of Benjamin, standing the case up on his side of the table. He stopped himself from grabbing for it immediately, though you made no move for it either, aside from nodding at the woman before she retreated. “Benjamin, you’ve got one more night here, which means one more dinner.” Good. “Since you brought me here tonight, can I…” You gestured to the case, but didn’t reach for it as Benjamin shook his head no. “Can I take you out for ice cream on the way home then?” Ice cream? “Or do you want me to throw some money in for the tip? I -” She’s not assuming, she’s asking. 

 “No.” He grinned, nose wrinkling. “Well, yes to the ice cream, but no to you paying. This is… I wanted to do this for you.” You leaned back in your chair, eyes on him as he scanned the receipt, pulling out cash instead of his card. I’ve got to use it before I leave, I might as well… 

 “Then I’ll pay next time.” You took a breath. “Whenever that might be.” Damn. He tried not to react to your words, but couldn’t hold back his wince. It might be a while. “But.” You stood, tilting your head to the side. “It’s a Friday, and it’s summer, which means that Graeter’s is probably going to be busy, so the sooner we get there…” He stood too, and as you walked through the small restaurant and toward the door, Benjamin stared after you. I don’t want to leave. You made it to the parking lot, stopping before you unlocked your door and turning back to face him. “I’m sorry that this isn’t… that it’s just… just cheap Italian in a strip mall, and not -” 

 He took the final steps toward you, backing you up against the side of your car and shook his head. “Stop.” He kissed you, the surprised sound you made at the action burning itself into his brain, and when he pulled back, he repeated himself. “Stop saying things like that. This is exactly where I want to be and what I want to be doing. You said it yourself. You would have been happy with a hamburger, and so would I.” I would have. “Before Julia? Before all the home cooking and the nice restaurants? I survived on cheap takeaway and convenience foods.” He leaned in again, nuzzling the side of your face. “I prefer simple.” He chuckled, feeling your hands on his sides, the pressure from your touch steady. “Always will.” And I mean it. 

 “If you say so.” You sounded uncertain, but didn’t push him away, Benjamin’s hands resting on your hips. “But we’re in a parking lot, Benjamin, and this is…” You let out your breath. “Pushing it.” He hadn’t realized how close he was standing to you; your bodies pressed together, your back flush against the cool metal of your car door, and Benjamin backed away first, still not pulling his hands away from you completely. 

 “One of these times,” he promised you, eyes locked with yours. “I won’t… we won’t have to worry about anyone else.” You seemed surprised at his words, but nowhere near as surprised as Benjamin was. Since when do I… “Forget it. Let’s just go… ice cream.” You nodded, finally breaking eye contact, and as you turned to unlock your door, Benjamin walked to the other side, his heart beating wildly. “I’m sorry if that crossed the line.” He settled in, buckling his seatbelt. “I don’t know what…” 

 “Don’t apologize.” You reached over with one hand, squeezing his knee. “You just said what we were both thinking.” Both of us? Does that mean… “I guess I’m better than you at managing my expectations.” He laughed at that, placing his hand over yours, fingers tightening. “Don’t worry, my patience won’t last forever.” He turned his head to look at  you and watched as you winked, your nose crinkling as you turned your attention back onto the road. Which one of us will cave first? 

 --- 

 “We can sit next to the fountain.” You pointed with the hand holding your ice cream. “Looks like there’s plenty of room.” His eyes followed the movement of your hand and without speaking, you and Benjamin moved to cross the street, his free hand reaching for yours. “That line wasn’t too bad, I’m surprised.” Sitting on the stone bench that made up the curved front of the fountain, Benjamin waited until you settled next to him, your arm against his side. 

 “It looks like there’s another option.” He gestured with his chin at the Baskin Robbins across the street in the opposite direction. “Maybe that’s why there weren’t as many people.” You agreed, licking the side of your cone to catch an errant drip of ice cream before it hit your hand. “Why didn’t we go to that place?” You looked over at him, eyes bright and warm in the glow of the streetlamps overhead. 

 “I like Graeter’s better.” You paused. “That’s the only reason.” He laughed at that, taking a bite of his own cone and falling into comfortable silence as he watched the people filtering by. “Do you?” 

 “I’ve nothing to compare it to, but it’s good.” You tilted your head, resting it against his shoulder for a few seconds and then straightened up, continuing to eat. “That’s the bar I went to last week, right?” He caught your nod out of the corner of his eye. “Thought this place looked familiar, even though I’ve only been here once.” He liked the area - the fountain you were sitting at marked the entrance to a park, the shops and restaurants inviting and appealing. And she grew up here. You were only a few minutes from your house, which made Benjamin happy; it meant that there wouldn’t be a great deal of time spent traveling back, trying to make conversation in an enclosed space with you when all he wanted to be doing was sitting in your house and -

 “Benjamin?” The voice drew him out of his thoughts, his head swiveling toward it as he chewed on a bite of waffle cone. “I thought that was you.” Oh, shit. He felt his eyes widen as they landed on the woman’s face, her surprise matching his. “You never called.” No I didn’t. 

 “Yeah, I…” He took the last bite of his ice cream as she stepped closer, Benjamin watching as she looked between the two of you. “I realized I didn’t have your number when I went to bed the night we met, and…” And I didn’t really care. He moved his hand to your back, settling it low against it. “And I’m leaving soon, so…” She frowned, her eyes darting away and then moving back to Benjamin’s. 

 “I figured you wouldn’t call.” You did? “But who’s…” 

 “Wow.” He felt you stiffen next to him, and though his arm trembled, Benjamin didn’t move his hand. Only if she… You stayed put though, even though he knew you wanted to move at the tone of Noah’s voice. “That didn’t take long.” Goddammit, Noah. You chose this, not her.

 “I could say the same to you.” He heard the ice in your voice and Benjamin felt you shift next to him, turning to look at Amanda before you introduced yourself. “I don’t know if -”

 “Look.” The other woman looked slightly uncomfortable, chewing on her lip and looking between Noah and Benjamin quickly. “I… he mentioned you the other night, but he said you were friends, and so when he called, I …” She might have been forward, but she’s not a bad person. 

 “Oh, no.” You laughed, looking back at Noah. “We were only friends. That was the truth.” You paused. “Been friends a long time, and…” She doesn’t sound upset, she sounds… “Just the odds of…” Yeah, right? “We’re done, so we’re going to go.” You stood, looking down over your shoulder at Benjamin. “Ready?” He stood too, letting his arm hang straight down, but staring straight at Noah without blinking. Say something. 

 “If this is going to be a problem, I’ll -” Amanda smiled nervously, and though Benjamin didn’t want to, he did the same, itching to reach out and touch you, but unable to tell if it was what you wanted. I don’t know what’s happening here, but I … “I’ll just go, we can -”

 “No.” You spoke again, shaking your head. “No, you’re not doing anything wrong, and neither am I.” Noah’s eyes flashed, and Benjamin fought to keep from rolling his. You don’t get to be upset, you had a chance to fight for this - for her - and you didn’t. “Benjamin and I are friends, Noah. You knew this. He’s leaving Sunday, and we’re just…” Just what? “You know what?” You looked back over at Amanda and then at Benjamin, who tried to read the look in your eyes, but couldn’t. What happened here? “I don’t have to explain myself to you.” You shrugged. “C’mon Benjamin. Let’s go home.” 

 Without another word, you turned away from the three of them, quickly walking in the direction of your parked car. Oh, damn. Benjamin waited a few seconds and then took a deep breath. Take the high road. “Have a good night, you two.” He offered a small smile to Amanda and then let his gaze move to Noah, who took a single step toward Benjamin. Say something. “Noah.” The other man looked at Benjamin without speaking at first, his eyes narrowing. 

 “Yeah, Benj. Have a good night.” He watched Noah’s lip curl and heard the cruel tone of his voice. The other man leaned in, reaching out with one hand, and Benjamin automatically extended his, feeling Noah’s fingers close around them. Prick. He leaned into the handshake, the volume of Noah’s voice dropping so that only Benjamin could hear. “Let her say goodbye to you. She’s good for -” He felt the fingers on his other hand curling into a fist, anger coursing through his body. How dare you. 

 “You’ve no r-” He felt his arm moving, rearing back. I should knock you -

 “Benjamin.” He froze at the sound of your voice, head turning toward you. “We should go.” He saw the look on your face in the dim lighting even from where you stood ten feet away, and Benjamin’s anger faded immediately. It’s not worth it. She’s worth it, but he… “Come on.” You smiled then - a small, tight lipped one - and he closed his eyes briefly before opening them again, staring straight into Noah’s. 

 “Enjoy your date, Noah.” Without another word, Benjamin spun on his heel and walked toward you. As he took his place next to you, you turned too, not bothering to look back at Noah and Amanda before heading back to the car. You walked side by side, and Benjamin extended his hand to take yours, needing the reassurance that seeing Noah hadn’t changed whatever was going on between you two. But instead of your hand meeting his, Benjamin’s fingers only found empty space. 

 --- 

 Although he’d been excited at the thought of being close to home earlier, the short car ride was a relief for other reasons after seeing Noah and Amanda. Is she angry at me? Did I… do something wrong? Neither of you spoke as you headed back to your place, but the silence was almost deafening. 

 He hadn’t wanted to hit someone as much as he’d wanted to hit Noah since his wedding day, when Ted had shown up to cause trouble, and the surge of anger toward your former friend and almost-boyfriend was shocking. If she hadn’t spoken up, I would have… “Thank you for tonight, Benjamin.” Your voice quiet, you finally spoke up after parking in your driveway, Eric’s car absent. “It was a lot of fun, up until…” Trailing off, you kept your hands on the steering wheel. “You know.” He shifted in his seat to face you, but didn’t reach out though it was the only thing he wanted to do. 

 “It was.” He swallowed, jaw working but nothing else coming out. What do I even say? “Are… are you alright? After seeing him? Them, I mean?” 

 “I am.” You said it with more conviction than he anticipated, finally looking at Benjamin. “It’s not that it bothered me to see him with someone else. I don’t care. I just… the way he looked at me, it’s like… like I shouldn’t have been there with you, even though…” You stopped, head shaking back and forth. “Is this happening too fast?” He watched you blink quickly, and even in the dim light from above your garage door, he could see that you were attempting to stop tears from falling. “It’s only been a couple days, and I’m already out with another…” You reached up, using one fingertip to swipe beneath your eye. “I saw you.” 

 “Saw me what?” He didn’t recognize his own voice, or the edge that it came out with, and Benjamin stiffened immediately. Why are you speaking to her like that? “Wh-”

 “After I walked away? I saw your hand, saw that you... “ You took a deep breath. “You looked like you wanted to hit him, Benjamin.” I did. “Over what, though? I don’t get it.” He thought carefully before he answered, making sure that when he spoke, his tone was friendlier. You’ve got no reason to be defensive. It’s not like before. 

 “I would have, if you hadn’t said anything.” Benjamin ran a hand through his hair, the other one gripping his thigh, just above his knee. “He… insinuated that you and I were… well, much more intimate than we have been. He was throwing it in my face that he’s been with you - recently - and -” You laughed, the sound quiet at first but turning into louder sobs after only a few seconds, your shoulders slumping as you leaned forward and rested your forehead against the backs of your hands, fingers still firmly grasping the wheel. He said your name and then moved, reaching out to put a hand against the center of your back. 

 “It’s alright.” He said your name, ducking his head closer to yours so that he could speak into your ear. “I’m not worried about what he said, he was just being a -”

 “He’s right, Benjamin.” You were speaking to the floor of the vehicle, not looking at him. “What kind of person goes from one… relationship, for lack of a better word to something else after only a few days?” You finally looked at him, cheeks damp and your eyes shining. “I slept with him, Benjamin. And it’s been a while, but it happened. I spent the night with him recently - while you’ve been here, even, and no, Noah and I haven’t done more than kiss in the last couple weeks, but I… we’ve been sleeping in the same bed for the last few nights.” She feels like she’s doing something wrong, she…  “What would hitting him have done, Benjamin?” You shook your head, eyes narrowing. “Made you feel better? Was it supposed to make me f-”

 “He shouldn’t be saying things like that. Especially not when it comes to things that he knows nothing about. We’ve kissed. That’s it. And it’s none of his business what you do, or what we do, or what I do, especially when it comes to you.” Benjamin took a deep breath, feeling his anger rising again. “No man has any right to assume things about a woman just because he’s upset, and Noah especially has no right to be angry that you’re out with someone - a friend, who happens to be leaving to fly thousands of miles away in a few days.” You opened your mouth to speak, but Benjamin cut you off, too deep to stop himself. Get it out. “We know each other. We’ve been speaking for months, and I live with your brother. I’m staying with you. Noah doesn’t know that woman aside from what she and her friends told us in a bar for an hour or two while she was drinking. That’s not spending time with a friend, that’s a rebound.” And a sorry one at that. “If anything, this should tell you that you made the right call.” 

 “Excuse me?” You sat up straight, head cocked to the side, and Benjamin drew his hand back. “What do you mean?” If she’s angry, at least you’ll be leaving soon. 

 “There was absolutely no reason that you and I should have run into them tonight. None whatsoever. But we did. He was out with another woman the exact same amount of time after you ended things that you were out with me. A woman - I might add, that initially wanted me to call her, despite Noah being very clear that he wasn’t in a relationship either. If we hadn’t seen him, you never would have known, whereas he knew you and I have spent the last few days together.” The words made your eyes go wide, hands falling from the steering wheel and into your lap. “He certainly doesn’t feel bad about what he’s doing or what he gave up on by not fighting to be with you before, and you shouldn’t either.” He paused. “Unless you’re upset that you saw him with another woman despite the fact that you and I have been acting as if we…” As if we what? “As if we want this to go somewhere, and you said that it doesn’t bother you.” 

 Benjamin finally stopped, feeling his chest tighten, anxiety creeping through his body slowly. You didn’t speak again, and after nearly fifteen seconds, Benjamin let out a breath, reaching for the door handle. “Where are you going?” It was his turn to laugh. Did I misread this? All of it? Was I just a distraction? “Benjamin, w-”

 “I’m going inside.” He looked back at you, uncertainty growing by the second. “I’m going to get changed, and then go to sleep.” He glanced at the clock. Barely ten. “But.” Tell her the truth. “I enjoyed tonight - most of it - completely.” Benjamin licked his lips. “It was nice to be out with you, to be… openly with you and to know that it was… that it wasn’t just because we’re friends and you’re showing me around.” He sighed. “If that’s the only date I ever get with you? Aside from this last forty five minutes, it was perfect.” You stayed quiet, and Benjamin opened the door of your car, closing it softly behind him after he exited. That couldn’t have ended more poorly.

 He used the key you’d given him to let himself in, again shutting the door behind him, and not even five minutes later, Benjamin was in his pajamas, stretched out on the pull out bed and staring at the ceiling in the dark. He’d heard you come in, your footsteps slowly moving upward as you went to your room, but after a few more minutes, Benjamin heard nothing, the house quiet. It shouldn’t be like this. He replayed the night over in his mind - the feeling that he’d had throughout dinner, the two of you talking over food, conversation flowing easily. The way that you’d been in the parking lot, not hesitating at all to kiss him or let him touch you, the way you’d grown closer than he ever imagined was possible while he’d been in Chicago. I believed it. Believed all of it, and now… He didn’t know what to think - what you were thinking, what you still felt for and about Noah. But she’s never lied before, she’s never… I thought… He scrubbed his hands over his face before he pinched the bridge of his nose. 

 “It can’t end like this.” He spoke out loud, sitting up. “She can’t think that…” He stood, adjusting his shirt and striding to the door, his hand closing around the knob. He didn’t know what he was going to say to you, but Benjamin pulled the door open and stepped into the hallway, head down as he walked toward the stairs. 

 But he didn’t make it more than a few steps before he collided with you, hands shooting out and gripping your upper arms to steady both of you. “Benjamin?” You sounded surprised, and he felt his heart thump at the single word. “Where are you going?” 

 “To see you.” He swallowed, not letting go. “I didn’t want -” But you rose onto your toes, lips colliding with his with such force that he stepped backward, shoulder knocking into the wall. What… You kissed him hard, hands rising to the sides of his face, and even though Benjamin was surprised, he kissed you back, pulling you closer to him without a second thought. 

 Your kiss was hungry, fueled with a need that he hadn’t ever felt coming from you before. What is this? What is she - “I’m sorry.” You apologized in the seconds you took to pull back and breathe, your hands dropping to his shoulders and then running down his chest. “Benjamin, I don’t care what he thinks of me, because I know…” You kissed him again, lips soft and warm, you pulling away with a sigh. “I just don’t want you to think that I’m…” 

 “I don’t.” He wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. “I could not care less what Noah has to say or think.” You didn’t speak, instead moving your hands to his back and kissing his jaw.  “Especially when he’s got no room to talk about the way someone’s behaving.” As your lips moved back toward his ear, Benjamin lowered his head, mouth grazing against your cheek and then down. But this time, when he reached your jaw, he didn’t stop, continuing to kiss a path downward. I … we… But neither of you stopped or slowed down, and Benjamin stepped forward, pushing you backwards until it was you whose back was flat against the wall, his hands on your hips and pushing to hold you in place as yours slid up and down beneath the thin material of the back of his t shirt. “Hey.” He reluctantly straightened up, almost unwilling to stop the path of his mouth over the skin of your neck. “I’m not doing this in the hallway.” 

 “Come to bed.” He felt himself shiver at the words, said with such certainty that anyone who heard them wouldn’t have been able to doubt the intention behind them. “My bed. Upstairs, Benjamin.” You had one hand curled around the back of his neck, the other one gripping the center of his back. “Come to bed with me.” Is this the right time? For this? He considered things for a few seconds and abruptly let go of you, standing straight up and pulling away, your hands falling from his body and back down to your sides. “I just want -”

 “Yes.” With a single nod, he gestured to the empty hallway in front of you. Why shouldn’t we? We’re both… “I’ll follow you.” You moved without replying, leading Benjamin up the stairs by one hand, only pausing before stepping through your doorway. He said your name and you turned your head to look at him, the look in your eyes unreadable. “Are you sure?” Asking wasn’t like him - he knew that you were perfectly capable of telling him what you wanted and didn’t want, but he wanted to be sure. “We -”

 “Come on.” You took his hand again and led him in, your room dimly lit by a desktop lamp. “I’m sure, Benjamin.” She’s sure. I’m sure. I want… He took a seat on the edge of your bed, looking up as you stepped in front of him. “Shirt.” You reached for it and Benjamin raised his arms, allowing you to pull it off. “One of these days you’ll have to tell me about this.” One finger stroked the ink on his forearm. “I’ve been wanting to ask, but I didn’t -”

 “I will.” His voice was low, but Benjamin’s eyes were locked on the way your hand looked against his arm, on the movement of each finger. “I’ll tell you anything.” I’ve already said that. You dropped onto his lap, straddling him with your forearms atop his shoulders and Benjamin - for the first time - realized that you had nothing on beneath your shirt when his hands slid up your sides and found no resistance. He sucked in a breath with every new inch of skin that he touched, both thumbs skimming over the underside of your breasts as you arched your back and gripped his shoulders, his name leaving your lips in a breathy whisper. I’m just touching her and she sounds like that. Benjamin leaned in, glancing upward and when you smiled at him, giving a single tiny nod of your head, he kept going, lips closing around your peaked nipple and the fabric that covered it. 

 His eyes closed as he applied pressure with his teeth, and Benjamin felt you remove one arm from his shoulder, that hand dropping between your bodies and coming to rest on his lap. This isn’t real. There’s no way. He felt the heel of your hand rubbing against the growing bulge beneath his pants, the ends of your fingers hooked into the elastic of his waistband and pulling it gently away from his skin. Benjamin moved to the other side of your chest but instead of biting down, he dragged his tongue over the curve, feeling the texture of your shirt against it as the material dampened. “Benjamin, that feels…” You shifted on his lap, changing the way your hand was positioned, and though he tried to keep from reacting outwardly, Benjamin couldn’t help the low moan that left his lips as your fingers brushed against him through the opening of his pants. “No underwear?” Not usually when I sleep, no. He felt the ends of your nails dragging against his skin as you curled your hand around him, and Benjamin couldn’t take it any longer. 

 Before you could get a firm grip on him, he’d let go of you, sitting up straight and reaching for your wrist with one hand, the other reaching up to gather the hair at the nape of your neck between his fingers. He pulled your face toward his and kissed you sloppily - mouth open and tongue seeking entry into your mouth without delay, but it didn’t take long for Benjamin to calm himself down, reining it in and kissing you properly. Each movement of his lips was slow and deliberate, and though you tried to pull your hand from his and return it to his lap, Benjamin didn’t let you, instead linking your fingers together, even at your protest. “No.” Teeth snapping quietly near your mouth, Benjamin finally spoke. “No, if you do that, it won’t… I wont be able to…” You laughed at that, rubbing your nose back and forth against his beard. 

 “Got it.”  You straightened up, glancing down and then looking back at Benjamin, the expression on your face serious, though he could tell that you were hiding excitement. “We should get in bed.” He agreed, waiting for you to stand before he did the same, his hands reaching for you before you’d gotten too far away from him, the fabric of your shirt gathered against his palms. “Oh.” You looked down, taking a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess we’d need to -” He began inching your top up, more skin visible with each movement, but before it had cleared your chest, you said his name again, tone entirely different than it had been before. What? “Benjamin is this…” You sounded worried. “Is this the right thing to do?” 

 He stopped immediately, hands releasing your shirt and falling back at his sides. “What do you mean?” He could feel the mood in the room shifting quickly, your desire replaced by uncertainty, and based on the look on your face, he knew that he had to ask. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong.” You swore loudly, turning away from Benjamin and slamming your hand on your dresser’s top. What is happening? 

 “I don’t want this between us to be the… result of a confrontation.” Oh, damn. “I don’t … this feels…” I don’t either. “I want you, Benjamin. And it’s so fucking cliche to say that.” You turned around facing him, though your hands gripped the edge of your dresser and didn’t reach for him. It’s not, it’s just honest. “And it’s not because of or in spite of Noah, or seeing him tonight, or the fact that you were willing to physically fight him over me when he couldn’t even …” You lowered your head, shoulders drooping. “But it feels like one thing’s leading to another, and I don’t…” You let go of the wood with both hands, stepping forward and lifting one arm, your fingers again finding the side of his face. “I don’t want that asshole to be what leads us into bed for the first time.” That’s not it, that’s not it at all. He stared into your eyes, trying to find the right response. 

 “That’s… that’s not why I’m here right now.” He swallowed, closing his eyes. “Not at all.” Blindly, he reached for you, feeling your free hand beneath his fingers and threading his through them, squeezing. “But if that’s how it feels to you, we’ll... “ He opened his eyes again, hoping that they showed more certainty than his voice projected. “We’ll table this for another time.” After I’ve gone back to London, most likely. He watched you flinch, and immediately knew that stopping before either of you got carried away was the right call. Not tonight. Not now, even though… “And you saying that you want to be with me?” He wet his lips, head moving back and forth in a series of quick shakes. “Hearing that? You’ve no idea how much…” You squeezed his hand, still silent. “How good it is to know that what I’m feeling is returned.” 

 “I’m sorry, Benjamin, I -” You let out a deep breath, looking away from him and toward the open door of your room. “I shouldn’t have let it -” 

 “Stop.” Without letting go of your hand, Benjamin stepped back, pulling you with him. “Why are you apologizing?” You opened your mouth to reply, but he continued. “What you’re saying makes sense. Perfect sense. And while I won’t say that I didn’t like what was going on,” he paused, saying your name. “If you - or I - were to ever regret anything that happened?” Benjamin took your other hand. “I’d hate myself for it.” There’s nothing else to say. “So.” He tightened his grip on both of your hands, waiting for you to look at him again. “If it’s alright with you, I’ll kiss you goodnight, and then go back downstairs to sleep.” 

 “You don’t have to do that.” Your voice small, you widened your eyes. “Sleep downstairs, I mean, my bed’s…” You swore under your breath, pulling away from him and rubbing your forehead. “What the fuck is wrong with me, Benjamin?” You spun away from him, heading for the side of the bed you slept on and sitting. “You’re standing right here in front of me, and I’m telling you no, and you’re fine with it? We were almost -”

 “This, right here?” He pointed between the two of you with one long finger. “This is the reason this shouldn’t happen tonight.” Benjamin sat next to you, bumping your arm with his shoulder on purpose. “Any sort of hesitation?” He wrinkled his nose, making a face. “That’s not what I want. That’s not what you want.” 

 “But we only have tonight and tomorrow, and then… then you’re gone, Benjamin. Then you’re… back in London, and who knows what’s going to happen?” That’s not a reason to sleep with someone, especially for the first time. You leaned over, cheek resting on his shoulder. “I wish that we…” His arm went around your shoulders, fingers tightening against your bicep as he held you. “Please don’t go.” You looked back up at him, the need in your voice back. “Stay with me up here tonight, if I know you’re downstairs, I won’t sleep, I’ll just lay here.” I’d do the same. 

 “If that’s what you want, I’m …” He grinned at you, winking. “That can be arranged.” You sighed in relief, standing up and letting him know that you were going to brush your teeth. Benjamin stood and followed you from the room, heading back downstairs without putting his shirt on. After he’d used the bathroom down there, he detoured into his room and plugged his phone in, standing in the dark and collecting his thoughts. 

 Your abrupt about face had surprised him, definitely. But even though I know her, that didn’t… that didn’t seem like her. You’d both been affected by the confrontation near the fountain and the conversation you’d had in the car, but Benjamin had still been surprised by your actions in the hallway. I knew it was too good to be true. He scrubbed both hands over his face before scratching the fingers of one hand over his scalp. Not too good, but too… too soon. “Damn.” He left the room, pulling the door partially shut behind him, and Benjamin took the steps up two at a time, hurrying back to you. Have to tell her. 

 You were sitting on the bed when he made it to your room, knees drawn up to your chest and both arms wrapped around them. “Thought you weren’t coming back, Benjamin.” You smiled sadly at him. “Thought I -”

 He stepped into the room, crossing his arms over his chest and  taking a breath. “When we were in the hallway, I questioned it, too.” You frowned, staring at him. “Not because I don’t want you, or didn’t want to…” He gestured with one hand. “You know.” That got a small smile from you, though you didn’t change your position on the bed. “It was because I was just wondering if after we argued in the car was the best time to take that step.” He moved closer to the bed, walking toward the unoccupied side and pulling the blanket down before he sat, turning to face you. “I know that this is all about being impulsive and open to the unexpected, but from my experience? This type of rushing? Of acting first and worrying about the consequences later? It doesn’t ever end well.” Benjamin reached out and trailed a down your arm, elbow to wrist. “And I’m not ready to leave with either of us feeling like we did something wrong.” 

 “It wouldn’t have been wrong, Benjamin.” You straightened up, though you kept your eyes on his hand. “Just… more than either of us expected from tonight.” You’re absolutely right. He watched you for a few seconds, taking in your profile next to him, the way you looked in the low light. “So about tomorrow.” You turned your head to look at him, the look in your eyes no longer one of uncertainty. She’s sad. “It’s your last night, and… Michelle and I have been talking, and we want to make you guys dinner.” What? “You know, before you go back to London and have to fend for yourselves.” 

 He laughed at that, head dropping toward his chest. Back to the occasional kitchen adventure and a lot of take away. “I’d like that. I’m sure Eric will, too.” You slowly turned your hand over, taking Benjamin’s. “What are we having?” 

 “Hotdogs. Hamburgers.” He groaned, eyes closing, but you only laughed, shifting on the bed next to him and urging Benjamin to lay down next to you. “I’m just kidding.” Good. I don’t think I can handle another night of… “We’re going to send you guys on your way with a traditional midwest cookout.” What’s that? “I know what he eats, but I’m telling you now so that I know what I need to get from the store tomorrow.” You were facing each other, heads close on the pillows and your hands still joined. 

 “Whatever you make for me is fine.” He kept his voice low, the mood between you changing again back to one that was comfortable. Still tense, but … it’s not the same tension. She’s... We’re... “I’m not picky when it comes to food. Not at all.” 

 “Good.” You moved closer to him, pausing. “I’ll go shopping when I wake up, so if there’s anything you need for your flight, let me know.” You still sounded upset, and so Benjamin moved quickly; careful to remember what had just happened between you, but unwilling to spend the second to last night with you apart, especially since you were right there. He wrapped an arm around your body, urging you closer, and without any sort of protest, you moved too, burying your face in the crook of his neck and clinging tightly to him. He could feel everything; the minute movements of your body, the way your breath hit his skin, the warmth of your palm against his shoulder blade. I’m leaving this. Leaving this for God knows how long. Leaving her. “Did we do the right thing, Benjamin? Earlier, I mean? Not - “

 “Yes.” There was no hesitation, and though your words were slightly muffled, he understood perfectly. “For tonight? For now? It was the right decision.” And one I’d make again. No matter how much I want things to be different. 

--- 

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[dakarimainink]

Chapter 13

WARNING: Angst, slight fluff

I woke up to the sound of running water. I rubbed my eyes and sat up in bed, looking around me. The sun was peeking through the curtains, making a stripe of golden light across the room. My arms were sore and I could barely move them. I sat silently in bed, head empty and gaze drifting. The door to the on-suite bathroom opened and out came Tom, wrapped in a white towel hanging perfectly on his hips. He gave me a gentle smile as he walked over to his chest of drawers and opened the top drawer. “Did you sleep well?” He asked as he pulled out a pair of boxer briefs.

The thought of Tom being naked under that towel made me black out for a second. To the god of dropping-towels please intervene now. I shook my head internally. “Yes, I slept well, thank you. Did you?” I asked, biting my lower lip.

“Yes I did. Haven’t slept that well in forever.” He admitted and strolled back to the bathroom. I sat still till he came back out again, this time dressed in a black t-shirt and black joggers. “Want me to make you breakfast?” He asked and walked over to the bed. He sat down on the edge and looked at me, glancing down on my blue and purple arms. Instinctively I hid them under the blanket. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to stare.”

“It’s okay, I would probably do the same.” I felt my stomach growl. “Breakfast would be nice.” I flashed him a weak smile.

“You can borrow my clothes. There’s t-shirt over there, sweaters over there and trousers over there. If there is anything, just let me know. I’ll be downstairs preparing breakfast then.” He got up from bed and left the room.

As soon as I heard him walk down the stairs, I climbed out and walked over to his closet. As soon as I opened the drawers, the smell of crispy musk and Tom filled my nostrils and I couldn’t help but genuinely smile. He smells good. I pulled out a pair of grey joggers and a black hoodie. I walked into the on-suite bathroom and closed the door behind me.

I walked over to the mirror and stared at my arm. I would do the same. I thought to myself. I could see the imprint of exactly where Mark had grabbed me and it tore my heart in half. The thought of him made tears prickle in my eyes. I wanted to slump down on the floor, but I forced my back to stay straight. I took a few deep breathes before taking off my t-shirt and got dressed.

As I entered the kitchen, I was met with the fresh smell of herbal tea, bacon and eggs. Holy smokes, that smells nice. I admitted to myself and walked over to one of the barstools and was greeted with a smile as Tom turned around.

“I hope you like eggs and bacon. I also made some tea as I can’t remember seeing you drinking anything else than tea.” He chuckled and handed me a cup of warm tea. It smelled like a delicious mix of herbs, especially thyme.

I warmed my hands around the cup while watching him flip the bacon and stir the eggs. His arms flexing with each movement made me squirm in my seat. A few veins popped up while he cut up some dill for the eggs. Oh sweet mother of Jesus, I gotta stop staring. I licked my lips involuntarily and kept staring as he filled the plates up.

“Here you go.” He handed me a plate and a fork before sitting down next to me.

“Thank you.” I grabbed the fork and took a small bite of the eggs. It tasted heavenly, probably some of the best eggs I had tasted. He looked over me before taking a bite of his own eggs. A chuckle hummed from his chest when the eggs I had on my fork fell. “Don’t laugh.” I smiled and picked up the eggs again with my fork.

“Do you need help with that?” He grinned and turned slightly towards me. His knee touching the side of my thigh. A warmth shot through me and I couldn’t help but chew on my lower lip.

Tom reached up a hand and pulled my lip from my teeth. “Don’t do that. You’re hurt enough as it is.” He whispered and gently stroked my cheek. I found myself holding my own breath as our eyes were locked. “Breathe, Luna.” A smile painted his full lips and I finally took a deep breath.

My whole body was heating up and my stomach had a fiery storm swirling within. I was tempted to lean forward, to finally taste his lips, but an unseen force kept me back. It was pulling me hard, forcing me to break our locked gazes and I leaned back.

Tom retrieved his hand and gave me a gentle smile. I felt cold as soon as his touch left me. We finished our breakfast before going into the living room.

We sat down on the sofa together in silence. I had my legs crossed beneath me, staring at the coffee table in front of me.

Tom cleared his throat. “Do you wanna talk?” He asked gently.

I wanted to talk so badly. Tell him all my fears, but I was scared. I didn’t want to pull him into everything, but the glass was soon to run over. I turned my head and looked at him. I bit my lower lip before taking in a deep breath. “Last night…” I stopped, just the thought of it made me choke.

Tom quickly shuffled closer to me and pulled me into his embrace. His warm body made the lump in my throat slowly go away. “You don’t have to talk about it, but I know it will help just to say a little.” He whispered while stroking my hair.

I moved deeper into his embrace, trying to hide myself from the truth, but he was right. I had to say something. “Mark became upset last night.” I mumbled into his chest. He squeezed me tighter, telling me I was safe now. “He… he grabbed a hold of me… and…” I swallowed the new lump in my throat. “And slammed me against the wall. I had to get out of there. I kicked him and ran. I was terrified. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to get hurt.” I felt a panic spread through me, seeing the events flash behind my eyelids.

He hushed me lowly while stroking my hair and back. “I’m here, Luna. No one can hurt you here.” He kissed the top of my head. “Know that you can stay here as long as you want.” My heart was thumping hard. “But we should tell someone about this.”

“No!” I pushed myself out of his embrace and shifted back from him in the sofa. “No one. I don’t want any trouble.” I pleaded. “I just need him to go back to America, that’s it.”

Tom seemed shocked, but his expression turned and I saw that he understood. He gave me a nod and opened his arms to me again. I hesitated at first, but I needed someone to lean on now, as I had been alone for so long on my own. I crawled back into his arms and we sat there in silence, him stroking me and me listening to his heart beat a peaceful steady rhythm.

CHAPTER LIST

[fics-not-tragedies]

In a Week: Chapter 13 🌲

Words: 1483; Warnings: none, unless you want another warning for drinking alcohol, then you have it; Summary: The evening unwinds, the dinner ends, but it seems like there’s much more for her to experience than Flo thought.

Hozier tag list:

@letoursilencebreaktonight​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @angelpeachamber​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @sgt-morgan​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​; @julessbrown​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​;

Monday, 10:15pm

When the starters had been cleared away and the main courses were placed, Andrew’s green eyes were wide and ravenous at the size of his plate.

“It’s quite, em, massive” he chuckled, then lowered his tone to make a joke about his steak, “Have you ever seen, em… a bigger piece of meat than this one?” He chuckled.

“Behave” she tittered, a little light-headed from the first sip of her second glass of wine after Andrew had insisted they just bring her the bottle.

They ate hungrily, both focused as much on each other as the food. They took time to ask questions they’d forgotten to so far, trying to take in as much information about families and their hometowns, the movies they’d seen and the ones they had been meaning to.

“Have you seriously never seen Dirty Dancing?”

“No, should I?”

“Absolutely.”

“Perhaps you’d watch it with me?”

“Perhaps.”

Monday, 10:20pm

They were almost finished with their second course when Andrew turned back to the view, the lights dotted along the skyline so mesmerizing.

“Stunning setting for that date, isn’t it?” He drawled, sitting back a little in his cushioned chair, the buzz of alcohol on his lips giving him the cocky, confident edge he first tried with her. Of course it had failed him last night, she has seen straight through it, but it was certainly worth a second shot, even just for fun.

“We’re on a date, are we?” She laughed back, not breaking her eye contact once.

“Well it has all the obvious signs of a date…” he shrugged, lips a little pouty.

“Which are?” She sipped from her glass, her fingers wrapping around it, intrigued. He paused, lifting a final forkful to his lips and chewing in thought.

“Good food… butterflies in my stomach… beautiful girl giving me the eye-”

“I most certainly am not giving you the eye, Andrew…”

She took another long gulp from her glass and squeezed her lips together defensively. Andrew shifted forward in his seat, resting his hand on the table as close to hers as he could without touching her. For a moment Flo thought he was going to take hers and hold it like almost every other couple in the restaurant, unsure if she’d actually be able to resist his touch. But he was purposely being a tease in his actions, had noticed how she noticed and was thriving off it. His words were a little slower, his nose wrinkling with effort as he spoke.

“Hmm… I know when a woman wants me…” he drawled, eye contact steady, his overconfidence fueled by the alcohol he already drank, hoping this persona will do him better than the usual one, “and I hate to break it to you, my love, but, em, you are giving me the eye.”

There was an impossible silence in which Flo could feel her heart rate increase, had to close her eyes for a moment and focus so not to fall for his honeyed words. His fingers danced close to her wrist, trying to spark a reaction.

“Are we really doing this now?” she asked quickly, her question direct, her eyebrow arched.

“Mhmm.”

“Are you sure?” She had been waiting for his abrupt forwardness to show again, had been desperate to retaliate to something after being civil about it all for so long.

“Go for it” he sighed through gritted teeth, loving how easy it was to challenge her.

“Well…” she began, taking one last sip from her wine glass before placing it out of fear she’d smash it somehow, “I’m pretty sure you’ve been trying to get me into bed with you since we met. So don’t act the innocent.”

“But you are tempted, aren’t you? You’re curious.”

“I didn’t start it.”

“Didn’t say you did” he smirked, jaw tense, “But you are tempted and I bet you already, em, thought about it.”

“And you haven’t?”

“Oh, I definitely have. Numerous times…” Flo bit her lip hard, unable to ignore what he was telling her, what he was admitting out loud and what she had too in such a short amount of time, “You’re blushing, Flo.”

“I know.”

She couldn’t meet his eye, couldn’t bring herself to give in, refusing to let him win this easily. And then his fingers brushed over the smooth skin of her wrist, reminiscent of the very first time they touched and she almost whimpered, clamping her other hand on the table just to keep herself still. The alcohol had made her feel dizzy and she was now aware of his cologne too - it was all too much. His calloused fingertips ran over the veins of her wrist, his muddy eyes locked on hers, waiting to be blessed with her full attention again.

“Well, we clearly don’t have very much self-control around each other” she stated, her breath shaky and uneven, hoping he won’t move his fingers to slide them down her wrist, “...only friends…” she repeated, her cherry-red lips pursed together as she brought her eyes up to meet his.

“W-what?” Andrew was obviously confused, not sure what her point was. His face was still, but the movement of his fingers against her skin stilled for a second and it caught her off guard when he started to move them again.

“Back there, when we came in…” she swallowed dryly, “you said we were ‘only friends’.”

“Aren’t we?” He smirked gently, his lips parting as he waited for her answer.

“You tell me, Andrew…”

“Can I interest you in any desserts?” Jack asked suddenly, cutting the pair off as he stopped beside their table. It took a moment for Andrew to register he was actually there, but when he did he flinched violently, like he just been caught doing something very wrong and retreated into his own personal space. Flo felt the absence of his touch painfully, pulling her own arm back and turning her focus to the waiter.

“I have the menus here if you’d like to take a look.”

“Are you in?” Andrew asked Flo, though the dessert was the very last thing on his mind.

“I’m in.”

Monday, 10:30pm

Flo and Andy were both feeling rather frustrated and flustered by the conversation, with neither of them winning anything, rather just confirming that they couldn’t have what they now knew they wanted equally. The silence was unbearable, the awkwardness hard to see through and as much as Andrew had wanted to wind her up about their sexual tension, he hated to think of her genuinely affected by anything he’d said or done. The next time Flo heard Andrew speak was when he ordered.

“I’d like the triple chocolate cake a-and, em, the raspberry cheesecake, please, Jack…”

“Both?” She laughed hesitantly, his childish smile back at her easing her nerves a little.

“Yeah, both” he replied with a shrug, “Couldn’t decide.”

“I’ll have the tiramisu, please” she hummed, giving Jack her best flirtatious grin before he disappeared, just to annoy Andrew a tiny bit more, “Do you have room for two?” She sighed, turning back to him.

“Watch me.”

Monday, 10:45pm

To even his surprise, Andrew polished off both plates in no time, licking his lips with delight as he threw his fork down in triumph.

“Told you, love…” he sat back in his chair and sipped on the remainders of his second whiskey, fully indulged by food, drink and her.

“Well, I’m very proud of you” she giggled.

“Oh. Andy?” She mumbled, obviously suppressing a laugh.

“Yes?”

“You’ve - uh - got a bit of chocolate on your lip…” she smirked, pointing to her own slightly smudged lips to indicate where it was.

“Oh, that’s not good…” he grumbled, patting at his mouth frantically with a napkin and managing to miss the blob of brown each time. She laughed and he sighed in frustration.

“Let me…” she giggled, lifting her hand to his face and swiping at the chocolate with her own napkin. She lingered there for a moment, staring at his chapped pink lips, wondering whether he’d taste more of chocolate or raspberry or whiskey, “… Help you.”

“Thank you…” he replied, softly, weaker for her than ever when she reluctantly pulled away.

“Flo?”

“Andy?”

“I’m sorry if I… overstepped… any boundaries…”

“It’s fine…” she replied, trying to reassure him with the casualness of her voice.

“I wouldn’t ever wanna make you feel-”

“Andrew, it’s okay…”

Flo lean forward and without thinking covered his hand with hers to reassure him, the softness back in his face providing her with such comfort, her fingers brushing over his with little care for the consequences. With her permission now he linked his fingers with hers, caressing the side of her thumb with his.

“I’ll get the bill…” he suggested, at least ten seconds later, his voice deeper, gravelly, “I’ve one place I really want to show you…”

[orangeflavoryawp]

Jonsa - “From Instep to Heel”, Part 4

Thanks for your patience, guys.  Been dealing with Real Life Bullshit and it’s not been fun.  But this piece has been my refuge.  Hope you guys feel the same.  :)

“From Instep to Heel”

Chapter Four: The Downfall

“Ours, she’d promised.  But it’s getting harder and harder to see the Stark behind all that Targaryen.  (And maybe this is her own fault.  Maybe this is her thinking too well of people again. Maybe this is what all naïve, self-righteous girls get for their wanting hearts.)”  -  Jon and Sansa.  Like the curve of the horizon, when the moon breaks from beneath its bow.

Read it on Ao3 here.

Part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 fin

* * *

“And who will your brother be squiring for?” Aegon asks Sansa from across the table.

           She sets her wine glass down, smiling gratefully at his interest.  “My father has not yet found a position for him.”

           “Not yet?” Daenerys asks coolly, cutting into her ham.  “Your wedding is in a fortnight.  Your family is to return North shortly after, yes?”

           Sansa sags with the remembrance.  “Yes.”

           “Then arrangements should be made rather quickly, don’t you think?”

           Sansa nods stiffly, looking down to her plate. “I’m sure my father is looking into it.”

           She’s grown used to these dinners with her future husband and siblings.  Sometimes King Rhaegar joins them.  Sometimes her father or brothers.  Sometimes she takes her dinners back in the guest wing, with just the Starks and Theon and Margaery.  There’s much more laughter then.  Her smiles come more freely.  And she does not miss the way Robb and Margaery glance at each other across the table.

           Sansa smiles to herself at the recollection. She cannot blame her brother. Margaery is wicked charming, after all, and even Theon has warmed up to her, grudgingly admitting to Sansa once during their stroll through the gardens that Robb could hardly find better and Sansa had swatted his arm good-naturedly for the low compliment before Theon was laughing at her, surrendering, granting his reluctant admiration for the lady. Sansa had beamed.

           She wonders if it’s too soon to hope for a sister, rather than a friend, in Margaery.

           The thought reminds her suddenly – “Lady Margaery recommended Bran squire for her brother Ser Loras.  He is a rather renowned knight, after all.  And Margaery’s word gives me hope that the Tyrells would be in favor of such an arrangement.”

           Rhaenys scoffs softly across from her.

           Sansa swings her gaze over to the princess, catching the way Jon reaches for his wine glass beside her.  “Is there something strange about it, Lady Rhaenys?”  She cannot help the soft bite that echoes after the words.  She still remembers how the other woman had humbled her at tea several days past, the memory unpleasantly sharp and vibrant.

           Sansa clenches her jaw.

           Ice, she tells herself, breathing deep.  

           “That woman will sink her claws into anything once she gets a whiff of power,” Rhaenys says.

           Sansa’s brows furrow.  “Lady Margaery?”

           Rhaenys takes a bite of her buttered turnips.  “The very one.”

           “I don’t see how – ”

           “Tell me, Lady Sansa, does your brother Robb take kindly to her?”  Rhaenys offers a close-lipped smile, chewing carefully.

           Sansa bristles at the insinuation.

           “Come, Rhaenys,” Aegon interrupts, “You’re being rude to our guest.”

           “I’m only giving her fair warning,” Rhaenys says, spearing another vegetable with her fork.  “Lady Margaery wanted you first, brother, and when she couldn’t have that, she went for Jon – ”

           “Rhaenys,” Jon warns lowly, and it’s the first Sansa has heard him speak all night.

           “ – and when that didn’t happen, she went for the next best thing: the heir to Winterfell.”  She takes a vicious bite of her food.

           Daenerys reaches for her wine glass, an amused smirk at her lips.  “You’re simply mad that Mace Tyrell has offered his son Willas for your hand.”

           “And why shouldn’t I be?” she snaps.  “Bunch of vultures, the whole lot of them.”

           “Lady Margaery has been nothing but sweet and considerate towards my family and I, and I don’t think it right to besmirch a lady based on assumptions,” Sansa gets out breathlessly, hardly believing the words have left her.

           Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Jon’s fingers twitch over the stem of his wineglass, drawing it toward his perpetual frown.

           Her cheeks heat instantly, fingers tightening over the cutlery in her hands.

           “And you’re absolutely right, my lady,” Aegon agrees gently, sending a warm smile her way.  He glances to Rhaenys then, a flicker of warning to his violet gaze.  

           The subtle shift is somewhat jarring, even if his agreement has tempered her bout of sudden vexation.

           Rhaenys sends a baleful look toward her brother but doesn’t argue further.

           Beside her, Jon shifts in his seat, setting his glass back to the table.  Sansa feels acutely aware of every minute movement he makes, anxiety from this maddening silence of his rooting her to her seat.

           She’s tried accompanying him in the library, sharing the quiet with him as they each devour their chosen books in turn, hoping to draw some sort of conversation out of him regarding his reading, and yet he offers little more than acknowledging grunts at her attempts.  She’s tried sharing stories from home, enlightening him about the North, and Rickon and Arya back at Winterfell, the godswood, the crypts, the hot springs, but he hardly even meets her eyes let alone grants her any seeming interest in her tales.  They’ve been riding, they’ve walked the gardens, they’ve shared a meal nearly every evening for the last fortnight she’s been in King’s Landing, and still, he is no more known to her than the first night he swung her about the dancefloor and slated her honest questions with quiet anger.

           She’s never been spurned so.  It smarts, she finds – when she’s brave enough to admit to it.

           “Rhaenys is right though, you know,” Daenerys says over the rim of her wineglass.  “In some respects,” she finishes.

           Aegon gives a decidedly unprincely eye-roll and throws a smirk Daenerys’ way.  “Seven, but you do love to disagree with me, don’t you, wife?”  Even as an urge for caution, there’s a fondness to his words that startles Sansa somewhat, the quiet intimacy of it warming her with embarrassment at being present for the exchange.

           Daenerys lifts a brow at Aegon, setting her wine glass down.  “I’m not disagreeing either way.  But you have to admit that the woman certainly isn’t letting the opportunity pass her by.”

           Sansa frowns, eyes drifting down to her plate. She stares resolutely at her half-eaten ham, taking a deep, calming breath.  Her eyes prick with a stinging wetness she hates.

           She does not want to think that her time with Margaery has been disingenuous.  It is too cruel a thing to consider.

           Sansa curls her hands tightly along her fork and knife, hovering at the edge of her plate, blinking back the wetness.

           Maybe she thinks too well of people.  Arya’s berated her for it before.  Robb’s consoled her because of it, as well.  It hurts her more than it helps her, she finds.

           But she’d rather think too well of people than too ill of them.

           Sansa glances up fleetingly at Rhaenys.

           (No, if thinking too ill of people likens her to Rhaenys Targaryen’s sort, then she doesn’t want it.  She doesn’t want it at all.)

           She can’t have imagined the hidden quirk of Margaery’s lip when Robb had kissed her hand for the first time in greeting, eyes alight on hers as he bent into a courteous bow, and she’d thought Sansa wasn’t looking. Or the unhindered laugh she’d let loose, hand clamped suddenly over her mouth, when Bran tried to tell the story of how he caught Theon kissing Jeyne Poole in the kitchen pantry before Theon nearly vaulted over the dinner table to stop him.  Or the way her face had gone slack with tender disbelief when she’d taken the hand-sewn silk handkerchief Sansa had offered her just the other day, beaming proudly as Margaery fingered the edges with a fond reverence.

           There are many shadows in the Red Keep, but some things Sansa still sees clearly.

           She swallows thickly, straightening in her seat, missing the way Jon watches her with muted, grey eyes.

           “And is this the norm in the capital?  This rank suspicion?  Is it not tiring to always assume a second layer of meaning to what people say and do?” she asks.  It’s a barb, of course, a frank observation, but there is also a genuine need to the question.  She clamps her mouth closed at the tail end of the words, feeling suddenly small and naïve and childish.  But even still –

           Surely it can’t be all shadows in such a sunlit place.

           Daenerys and Rhaenys offer piqued brows at the question while Aegon graces her with a consolatory smile.  Beside her, Jon smothers a rueful chuckle into his wine glass.  Sansa nearly glares at him, but reins the instinct in, cutting into her ham instead, perhaps a touch too forcefully.

           “You’ve a kind heart, Lady Sansa,” Aegon says, leaning back in his seat as he watches her.  “Be careful with.  It seems too beautiful a thing to break.”  His violet gaze is steady, candle-lit and searing.

           Sansa swallows thickly at the look, setting her cutlery to her plate.  Daenerys takes a large swig of wine across from her, eyes averted.  Jon sets his glass down loudly, a gruff exhale leaving him. Sansa nearly startles at the noise.

           “Your brother would do well under Ser Loras,” he says to her suddenly, voice low and tight, a gravelly quality to the words – the most he’s said to her in days.

           Sansa blinks at him, only to find him watching Aegon intensely.

           Aegon hardly notices, having returned to his plate with a gingerly swipe of his knife into his meat.

           Sansa opens her mouth, closes it, finds her voice finally.  “Thank you, my lord.”

           Jon grunts his acknowledgement, dragging his wine glass back to his mouth.

           “What about Jaime Lannister?”

           Sansa looks up at Daenerys’ question.  “My lady?”

           The Targaryen heiress settles back in her seat, her finished plate abandoned atop the table.  “I daresay your brother wouldn’t find a better knight to squire for, and a Kingsguard at that.  I’m certain Rhaegar would approve the arrangement.”

           Sansa does not miss the way Jon stiffens beside her, but it’s Aegon who responds.

           “Yes, that makes perfect sense,” he drawls dismissively.  “Let the Stark boy squire for the man who killed their father’s dear friend and helped end his people’s uprising.”

           Sansa startles at the blatant way Aegon says it, her mouth parting, her gaze fixing to him.  Something brews in her chest – something Northern.  Something winter-hewn.

           Jon leans his weight to one armrest, scowling at his brother.  “Robert Baratheon got what he deserved,” he snarls.  “If only Stannis had shared such a fate.”  The words are too full of bite to truly be called a lament.

           That incessant winter, tugging at her veins – it batters around her chest now.

           “And Ned Stark took a knee for it,” Daenerys muses, “So the North may live on.”  She scowls softly at her husband.  “I see no reason to dismiss the suggestion.  Ser Jaime squired under Ser Arthur Dayne, after all.  Any lord would be overcome to have their son squire for such a knight.”

           Sansa watches as Rhaenys goes stiff with the mention of Arthur Dayne.  Jon lets out a near growl into his slowly emptying wine glass.  Sansa’s skin feels tight, uncomfortable, her eyes blinking furiously, lungs clenching in her chest.

           To speak so casually about her people’s independence, their failed rebellion – Sansa finds the words tart and smarting along her tongue.

           Robert Baratheon got what he deserved.  And Ned Stark took a knee for it.

           Sansa’s chest heaves, her cutlery clattering to her plate.

           Jon glances at her out of the corner of his eye.

           “I’m sorry, but I…”  She trails off, eyes fixed to her plate.

           Aegon leans toward her, a concerned look on his face. “Lady Sansa?”

           Jon takes a long gulp of wine.

           Sansa steals a breath through her nose, hands going to her lap.  “Robert Baratheon may be a traitor to the crown but he was – ”  The words stall in her throat, thick with unspoken meaning.

           He was her father’s brother, in truth, as much as Uncle Benjen ever was.  As much as Uncle Brandon, too.

           Her hands curl into fists atop her lap.

           “You’re not about to defend him, are you?” Jon asks quietly beside her, still as the grave, eyes dark, even by candlelight.

           Sansa glances up at him, mouth parted.

           Daenerys trails a slender finger slowly up and down the stem of her wine glass as it rests atop the table.  “Careful, Jon,” she says, eyes glinting, “Your soon-to-be wife seems to have wavering allegiances.”

           The panic is instant, throat closing around spent air.  “I’m not – ”

           “The Baratheons are a gutless sort,” Jon sneers. “No honor amongst them.”

           Rhaenys is uncharacteristically silent, dragging her fork across her plate almost disinterestedly.  But Sansa hardly has a mind to notice.  She’s too overcome with a new, threatening ire.  “And thus my father, by association?” she asks on as ladylike a scoff as she can manage, teeth rattling behind her heated exhale.

           Jon narrows his eyes at her.  “That’s not what I said.”

           “You may as well have,” she argues, chest heaving.

           Jon rolls his eyes, but he’s turning in his seat, facing her now, the brunt of his attention fully trained on her.  She shifts to face him in return.

           “Lord Stark knelt to save his people, aye, but only when the rebellion was truly lost.  That hardly fosters good faith, wouldn’t you say?”

           “I’d say burning your lordships alive hardly fosters good faith,” she quips back instantly, brows furrowed sharply, tongue smarting with her indignation.

           Daenerys smothers her amused laugh into the rim of her wine glass.  Aegon intones his wife’s name warningly, stiff and unblinking.  Sansa’s eyes prick with a heated wetness, frustrated and helpless. She keeps her gaze fixed to Jon.

           He blinks at her, mouth curling into an aggravatingly familiar smirk.  “Citing past grievances won’t help you now, my lady.  This is a new era – a new dawn.  Our father is a fair ruler, but you can be sure, he will not tolerate treason.”

           Sansa smarts at the admonition.  “’Past grievances’?” she asks incredulously.  “The mad king murdered my grandfather and uncle in open court,” she hisses, voice rising.  “Your grandfather and uncle,” she reminds him, the accusation as much a plead as it is a damnation.  She blinks furiously at him, the anger rising easily.  

           Jon swallows tightly, eyeing her with a searing gaze.

           “There is no excuse for what our grandfather did,” Aegon says suddenly, voice low and practiced.  “No one denies that such an act was atrocious, and certainly un-kingly of him.”

           Sansa does not even spare the prince a glance, her eyes still fixed to Jon.  He stares resolutely back at her.  Neither seems able to relent.

           “But you’re looking for villains now where there are only men,” Aegon finishes, and this does draw Sansa’s attention finally. She stares at him, mouth a thin line, hands curling tightly together over her lap.

           She hears Jon’s scoff beside her, catches him in the corner of her eye, dragging his wine glass back to his mouth.  She swings her hardened gaze back to him instantly. “And I suppose ‘villains’ are all you see when you look at Starks and Baratheons, my lord?” she prompts, voice hard, lip curling into a sneer.

           Jon does not wilt beneath her gaze.  “I stand by what I said,” he says lowly.

           “Am I to assume honor and brotherhood mean nothing to you?”

           “Am I to assume fealty means nothing to you?”

           Sansa huffs, an incredulous breath drawn through her rattling lungs.  “My father is a good, faithful lord.”

           “No one is denying it.  I’m simply warning you, in hopes that it stays such.”

           She feels her nails digging half-moons into her palms.  That splinter is back – but oh, how it digs.  A stinging reminder beneath her skin.

           She wants to claw it out, now.

           A seething cold settles over her.  “Then tell me you would have done differently,” she gets out in a low voice.

           Jon’s gaze shifts between her eyes, brows drawn down in a confused furrow.

           Sansa licks her lips, breath raking from her.  “If it had been your father and brother murdered so, tell me you would have done differently,” she challenges.

           The silence is deafening – a sundering weight between them.

           Sansa catches, just barely, the flicker that passes over Jon’s face when the words leave her, before it’s shuttered away, a dark look overtaking him.  She watches as he leans back from her, arms going slowly to his armrests, never taking his gaze from hers.

           It’s static between them, frenzied air, a heavy draw in her lungs.

           She can feel the hammering of her own heartbeat at her ears and wonders – frantically – if he can hear it, too.

           She drags her gaze away eventually, eyes fixed to her hands.  It seems terribly unfair, this frustration he brews in her.

           Because he is so agonizingly still, even now.

           She wants to shake him for it, wants to rattle this silence clean out of him, bring back the disparaging remarks, the heated admonishment.  But her pride still smarts.  And she won’t admit to the hidden, spiteful part of her that revels in being able to reduce him to such silence.  So, she sits, and she breathes, and she tries to steady her thunderous heart.  She takes his quiet, searing stare as a notion of victory, even when it tastes like chalk on her tongue.  Even when the triumph languishes beneath her wounded Northern pride.

           Someone clears their throat across the table and Sansa finally glances up, catching Aegon’s violet gaze.  It’s closed off, giving nothing away, his mouth a thin line, one slender, poised hand stilled over his wineglass.  “Lady Sansa, I would advise you to abandon the topic.”  His fingers glide around the rim, slow and measured, and the motion is startlingly lulling to watch.  “I do not wish to ruin dinner any further.”  He offers a light quirk of his lip.  The expression lights a strange mix of comfort and forewarning, and Sansa’s gut clenches, remembering herself suddenly.

           “Of course, my lord.  I apologize,” she answers, shifting slightly in her seat, decidedly away from Jon, reaching for her own glass and taking a distracting gulp.

           Daenerys chuckles ruefully.  “All this because of a squire?”

           At her side, Jon grunts his displeasure at his aunt’s remark.

           Daenerys sighs dramatically, ignoring him.  “I still say Jaime Lannister.”

           “Gods, Daenerys,” Rhaenys snaps, “You have absolutely no tact, do you?”  Sansa finds she is as eager for the princess’ silence as Rhaenys seems to be, though she finds the comment rather hypocritical herself.  

           But Daenerys only gives the other woman a piqued brow in response.  “Training under Ser Arthur Dayne is no common feat, after all.  You of all people know the value of that,” she intones meaningfully.

           Rhaenys glares at her, jaw quivering.

           Jon throws his napkin to the table.

           “I beg pardon, but I think perhaps…perhaps it’s time I excused myself,” Sansa says suddenly, drawing her napkin from her lap as well and setting it primly atop the table.

           Aegon notes her half-eaten plate with a raised brow. “You’ve barely finished, my lady.” The words are not unkind.

           Sansa’s gut churns regardless.  “I’ve no appetite tonight, it seems,” she says in apology, looking to him with almost pleading eyes.

           Almost, but not quite.

           (She will not plead for such a low thing – to be excused from the table like a child.)

           “Of course,” Aegon says, nodding to her.

           She stands swiftly, hands smoothing her skirts over as she offers her farewells, before she retreats from the room as quickly as she can.

           She’s partly through the door when she hears the scrape of a chair behind her, and Rhaenys’ startled “Jon!” before her heart slams up into her ribcage and she’s stalking as fast as she can through the corridor without breaking into a dead run, her hands bunched in her skirts, her chest heaving, eyes stinging with humiliation and ire.

           “Lady Sansa.”

           She comes to a halt in the torchlit corridor, her back to Jon.  “Please,” she says, hating the way the word falters, a quake of air past her lips.

           He says nothing behind her at her heavy exhale, says nothing as her hands fist in her skirts.  The line of her shoulders is a trembling, vulnerable thing.  She swallows, tongue heavy, words rasping as they leave her.  “Please, just…let me go, my lord.”

           Still, he says nothing.  And Sansa hasn’t the patience to turn to him, to humor whatever argument or censure he wishes to sling at her.

           Ours, she’d promised.  But it’s getting harder and harder to see the Stark behind all that Targaryen.

           (And maybe this is her own fault.  Maybe this is her thinking too well of people again.

           Maybe this is what all naïve, self-righteous girls get for their wanting hearts.)

           After many moments, she finds he still has no answer for her but silence.  Not even the rustle of his leathers, or the familiar expel of his aggravated breath.

           She doesn’t wait around for him to change his mind. She stalks from him, never looking back.

           She feels the weight of his stare all the way down the corridor, even still.

* * *

“Come on, Stark, you’ve got better than that, don’t you?”

           It’s the cocky way the words are spoken that catches Jon’s ear when he makes it to the end of the opening hallway, turning past a column where the courtyard opens out.

           “Any better and you’ll be wiping that mouth off the ground,” Robb taunts back, barking a laugh.  A clattering, steely sound follows.  Jon rounds the bend into the training yard, looking out in time to see Theon parrying a blow from Robb.

           Jon stops to watch the spar.  Robb is clearly more disciplined in his training, but Theon is agile, swift. They’re a fair match for a time, but Jon can tell Robb’s endurance will win out.  There’s no wasted energy, no move without purpose.  Robb conserves himself, doesn’t move without purpose, no mind for theatrics or flashy tricks.  There’s a single-minded determination to his motions, his face pensive even in the midst of the fight.  He is thinking three moves ahead already, Jon can tell.

           A smirk streaks across the Stark’s face.

           It is not the pleasure of the spar itself, but the inevitable victory.

           Jon watches as Robb delivers the final blow, bashing Theon into the ground, his back hitting the dirt, Robb’s sparring sword stopped just at Theon’s throat, a gleam in his eye when the Greyjoy curses his loss.

           Robb steps back, smirk spreading into a full-on grin, reaching a hand out to help Theon up.

           Jon blinks at the motion, at the way Theon grunts in reluctance as he takes his hand, even as his own grin is tugging surreptitiously at his lips.  He thinks of his own spars with Aegon, the heated fervency of them, the deadlocked resolve.  There are never laughs, never out-stretched hands in the wake of victory.

           You pick your own self up out of the dirt, Jon reminds himself.

           “You were saying?” Robb taunts him.

           “Oh shut it, Stark.  No one likes a boastful ass.”

           Jon’s brows dart into his hairline with his surprise.  The heir to Winterfell lets a Greyjoy speak to him thus?

           Robb’s laugh fills the courtyard and Theon punches at his shoulder half-heartedly. Robb only laughs louder.

           “I’d heed your own words if I were you, Theon,” someone says from across the yard, a feminine giggle lighting the end of the words, and Jon swings curious eyes to the other side of the courtyard, catching along Lady Sansa watching from beneath the veranda.  She stands arm in arm with Margaery, the Tyrell lady smothering a laugh with her palm. Sansa arches a challenging brow to Theon, her lips quirked up into a fond smirk.  The expression is unguarded, affectionate even in its taunting.  Jon’s jaw clenches at the look, chest tightening without warning.

           He’s never seen such an expression on her face before – certainly never directed at him.

           He thinks back to the other night when they’d argued about Northern fealty and Baratheon treason.  The remembrance brings a sourness to his tongue.  If only she knew, if only she –

           But she doesn’t know.  And how could he expect her to?

           Seven years ago, when Stannis had –

           Jon stops that train of thought, burying the memory instantly, hands clenching into fists at his side.

           “You wound me, Lady Sansa,” Theon says dramatically, drawing Jon’s attention back with a hand braced at his chest in mock offense.  “You know I mean everything I say.”

           “And that’s the problem,” she says back, laughing.

           Theon offers her a roguish grin.  Jon curls his lip at the sight.  “You think I can’t beat your brother?  Have you no faith in me?”

           “A very little,” she says teasingly.  Margaery shakes her head beside her, clearly entertained by the banter.

           Theon hoists his sparring sword to rest along his shoulder, chest puffing out at the challenge, but when he turns to face Robb once more, he catches sight of Jon at the edge of the courtyard, their eyes meeting on a halted breath.  His grin falls instantly, replaced by a tight-lipped frown, very near a sneer if Jon thinks too long about it.  But the Greyjoy seems to have just enough deference not to keep the expression long, straightening, a short bow of his head accompanying his greeting.  “My lord,” he says stiffly, all hint of his earlier amusement bled out from his voice.

           Robb turns at the address, finding Jon easily, bowing himself with a similar greeting.  When Jon finally drags his eyes back to Sansa, she purses her lips, curtseying politely, eyes falling to the floor.  Margaery settles a hand along her arm at her side.

           Her clear disinterest rankles him, nostrils flaring beneath his heavy breath.  “Do continue,” he says to the men, turning back to them.  “Don’t stop on my account.”

           Robb seems about to say something, before he thinks better of it, tapping his sparring sword in the dirt in apparent contemplation.  It’s Theon that speaks then.

           “Join us, my lord.”

           Sansa’s head snaps up at the words.

           Jon raises a brow at the offer.  Robb glances to Theon, a cautionary look to his features.  But Theon ignores Robb, chin hitching high, lips settling into a self-satisfied smirk.  “That is, if your lordship would deem to cross swords with a Stark.”

           “You’re not a Stark,” he says without bite, only bluntness, but he sees the way the words strike him regardless.

           Theon’s face goes dark, lips twitching, the hand at his sword tightening over the hilt.

           It puzzles him, how Theon Greyjoy could take such offense.  Is it such a grand thing, to be a Stark?  Does it mean so much?

           His chest constricts at the thought.  It used to mean much.  He can hardly recall the feeling now, though.  But even still…

           A Greyjoy.

           Jon finds himself sneering at the other man.  

           “I’m sure Robb could accommodate that,” Margaery calls out from her place beside Sansa. The other woman turns to her, eyes wide, clutching at her arm.

           She only shrugs a shoulder, an impish grin to her features.  “Though I daresay it should be rather hard for our dear Lady Sansa to choose who to pledge her favor to,” she says slyly, grin turning devilish.

           “Margaery,” Sansa hisses beneath her breath.

           Jon is already stalking forward, unlacing his leather jerkin, possessed of something he hasn’t a name for.  Sansa swings wide eyes back at him, catching the way he’s staring at her all the while, shrugging out of his jerkin to just his cotton tunic beneath.  She swallows thickly, mouth parting as her breath hitches. He doesn’t admit to the rush that overtakes him then.

           So she isn’t so unaffected by him, is she?

           “I think a spar is an excellent idea, Lady Margaery,” Jon says.  Margaery excitedly pats at Sansa’s arm linked through hers with the affirmation.  “Assuming Lord Stark here is up to it.”  He glances to the man finally, buttoning up his sleeves over his forearms and reaching for a sparring sword along the rack of blades beside them.  Theon moves out of the way grudgingly when Jon circles round to the center of the yard with the Stark heir.

           Robb nods, an amused smile tugging at his lips.  “It would be an honor, my lord.”

           “Don’t take it too hard when he knocks you flat on your ass, Targaryen,” Theon mutters off to the side.

           Jon flashes him a condescending grin.  “You and I are not the same, Greyjoy.”  

           Robb can’t seem to help the bark of laughter that breaks from his mouth at the words, though he smothers it quickly, offering an apologetic look to Theon as he stews angrily at the dismissal.

           They get into a ready position quickly.  Robb rolls his shoulders, eager and focused.  “I do hope you will be entertained, Lady Margaery,” he calls out teasingly, “even if I should lose.”

           She chuckles prettily, head cocked as she watches the men slowly start to circle. “Then I will cheer for you, my lord.”

           A singled raised brow, a saucy smirk gracing his lips.  “Will you now?”

           “It only seems fair,” she muses, glancing at Sansa beside her.  “I suppose it would be improper for your sister to grant her brother favor above her betrothed, so I shall have to do, my lord.”

           Sansa gives a sidelong glance to Margaery, a barely discernible huff passing her lips.  Margaery’s smile broadens at the tease.

           “I think I can live with that, my lady,” Robb says, fingers flexing over the hilt of his sword.

           The comfortable, playful teasing stirs something in Jon.  It’s a strange sort of yearning, a coil in his gut.  He glances to Sansa over his shoulder.  Her smile wilts instantly.

           It grips at him suddenly – a thunderous need.

           That coy smirk she had graced Theon with.  That flutter of a laugh.  That easy, endearing crinkle at her eyes, shoulders shaking lightly in her mirth, red tendrils of hair brushed back with fine-boned fingers.

           (A need he doesn’t recognize – not fully, not yet.)

           She stares back at him, face a blank visage, a sheen of ice overtaking her.

           She has no such smiles for him, especially not since he’d berated her so condescendingly at dinner the other night.  No more walks in the garden or accompanying him in the library.  He’d grown used to her presence, even when he’d kept a purposeful distance.  He’s been too forceful with her, too familiar with his touch.  She’s to be his wife, yes, and touch is inevitable, touch is…

           Jon swallows, his skin tingling with the anticipation he won’t admit to.

           Touch is the least of what will occur between them come the wedding night, but even still, until then, he will not take such liberties with her.  She’s clearly not amenable to such intimacy, not yet at least, and Jon is loathe to think she considers him a brute.

           But has he given her any reason to think otherwise?

           And why should it matter in the first place?

           Jon snarls, looking back at Robb.  His opponent seems to recognize the shift, the signal, because his face hardens, all mirth leaving him, and then the game begins.

           Jon is the first to strike, and Robb parries his swing easily, foot bracing back in the dirt.  He pushes off, swinging low.  Jon dances out of the way, circling round, eyes trained on Robb.  They meet again, a stinging clash of their mock blades, and Jon shifts left, knocking Robb off balance with an elbow.  Robb stumbles back, righting himself immediately, just in time to parry another swing from Jon, this one almost vicious in its intensity, and his arms buckle slightly, locking at the elbow.  He grunts beneath the force of it.  Jon hears the sharp intake of Sansa’s breath, the hushed murmur of her brother’s name issuing forth in concern.

           The sound coils something hot and unrelenting in his gut.  He shoves off of Robb, panting, circling round again.

           Robb circles similarly, a weary smile gaining on his face.  “Not a leisurely spar then?” he chuckles, already winded.

           Jon scoffs, but it isn’t a scornful sound. A dark mirth fills him.  He thinks he might have liked this Robb Stark, had he known him before.

           (Before – when Jon had once yearned for his mother’s family like a stupid, lost little boy.  Before – when he’d been a stupid, lost little boy.)

           “You don’t fight for leisure, either,” Jon muses, breath raking from him.  “You fight to win.”

           Robb shakes his head, still chuckling.  “Aye, but at least I’m not so dour about it.”

           Jon raises a brow, smirk tugging at his lips, unbidden.  Another clash of their blades, a parry, a missed swing, a shove to the shoulder, grunting, feet shuffling across the yard, a kicked-up cloud of dust when one stumbles back, chests heaving, tunics soaked through with sweat.  A clang, metal ringing sharp in the courtyard.  Again, and again, and again.  Neither knows how to relent.

           Yes, he’d have liked this Robb Stark.  If he thinks too long about it, he likes him even now.  But Jon knows well enough to be wary of wolves.

           Sansa’s image floods his mind, for she is a wolf, too, even in all her silk dresses and pretty courtesies.  There is a flash of teeth behind that primly, pursed mouth, Jon knows.  A bite as cool and cut as winter.

           And he wonders suddenly – wildly – what that bite might taste like, whether that cool ice of hers would persist against the hot press of his tongue, what sounds she might make when he’s spreading her milk-white thighs apart to sink inside her.

           Would she howl for him, as wolves are wont to do?

           Jon’s chest heaves, a maddening heat suffusing him, and he blinks the image back furiously, barely managing to avoid Robb’s incoming swing.  The edge of his blade swipes close to his chin, and Jon stumbles back at the near miss, ears catching the sudden intake of breath from the watching ladies, as well as Theon’s whoop of satisfaction.  Jon steadies himself, wiping a hand across his sweat-slicked brow, dark curls plastered to his skin.  He growls lowly, shifting his sword into an overhold, advancing on Robb. He is waning, he knows, but he will not lose.  Not here, with her watching.  Something about the thought lights a flare of resolve in him.

           Jon feints right, parrying Robb’s blow and swinging round, blade coming at his side, and Robb barely manages to swing his sword back in time, but the force of Jon’s strike, caught at an awkward angle, trips him up, and he’s stumbling back, hand going out instinctively to brace his fall before righting himself just in time.

           Except, not just in time.

           Jon swings hard, sweeping Robb’s legs out from under him, and Robb lands back along the dirt with a rough grunt, breath winded from him, looking up to find the tip of Jon’s sword at his throat, a mirror to his earlier victory against Theon.

           They stay staring at each other, breathing heavily, Jon’s eyes dark and focused, his hand never lowering.

           “Well,” Margaery says with a smack of her lips, “That was a riveting win, wouldn’t you say, Lady Sansa?”

           Jon blinks away the heady battle haze, arm lowering, stepping back a pace. He glances to her, still panting, tunic stuck to his chest with his sweat.

           Sansa lifts her chin.  “Valiantly done, my lord,” she says tightly, a hint of a scowl gracing her features, “For a man with royal training against an opponent already flagging from previous spars.”

           “Sansa,” Robb admonishes from his place on the ground, looking up at her aghast.

           Theon smothers his laugh in his fist, but not enough for Jon to miss it.

           Margaery raises both brows at her friend in surprise, her amused smirk still steadily put.

           Jon lets out a rueful laugh, voice rough.  “It seems not much impresses you, Lady Sansa.”

           She doesn’t answer, keeping her chin high.  Theon steps toward them, picking Robb’s fallen sword up off the ground.  “I think it’s one of her many virtues, actually,” he says smugly.

           Jon throws a disdainful look his way.  “I’m not particularly interested in what you think about my betrothed,” he warns.

           Theon opens his mouth but never gets the chance to retort.

           “Alright, Targaryen, you’ve had your fun.  Now, are you going to help me up or not?”

           Jon looks down at Robb leaning back in the dirt with an expectant look and a hand held out.  He catches the laugh that threatens to escape at the image.  His throat tightens, an unfamiliar ache settling in his stomach.  He reaches out and grabs his hand, hauling the man up. Robbs dusts himself off, groaning softly when he stills with a hand to his side.

           “Are you wounded, my lord?” Margaery asks, voice lilting gently, though the subtle thrum of concern is apparent even to Jon.

           Robb scoffs, straightening.  “Aye, at my lady’s complete lack of appreciation for my battle prowess, even considering such a brutal defeat.”  He flashes a grin at Jon.

           The expression is jarring in its ease.  An honest grin, goading and friendly.  Jon’s frown deepens, that soft, unexplainable yearning battering around his chest.

           These damn Starks.

           “I was breathless for the whole affair, I assure you,” Margaery promises, a charming smile accompanying the words.

           Robb glances back to her, brow raised.  “Is that so?”  His voice is breathy, labored.

           Sansa rolls her eyes.  “Oh, go take a bath, Robb, you’re utterly filthy.”

           Robb looks down at his muddied tunic and then narrows his eyes at Theon’s guffaw.

           “You too, Theon Greyjoy.  You’re worse than Robb.”

           Theon’s laugh cuts off abruptly, glancing back at Sansa with a petulant frown.

           Jon stares at her at the edge of the courtyard, eyes boring into hers.  He doesn’t miss the way her gaze rakes quickly over his form, and he wonders if she will give him the same kind of fond tease, if she will remark on the way his tunic is fitted to his chest with sweat, or the way his curls are disheveled and damp from exertion.  But she only purses her lips after her brief appraisal, turning fully to Margaery beside her.  “Shall we go for a walk?”

           Margaery links her arm more surely through Sansa’s, turning them already.  “Yes, let’s,” she agrees.

           With a duo of curtsies, Sansa and Margaery leave the courtyard, skirts swaying in their wake.  Jon watches her go for long moments.  When he looks back, he finds Theon staring at him, a deep furrow to his brow, not even bothering to hide his scowl.

           Jon cocks his head at him, inviting whatever scathing comment is languishing on his tongue.  But Theon only shakes his head, hefting both his and Robb’s swords over his shoulder, turning to the Northern heir.  “I should go find Bran.  Reckon he’s dodging his lessons with Ser Rodrik.”  

           Robb nods, clapping him on the shoulder in farewell, and Theon leaves without a backwards glance.

           “You know,” Robb says, once they’re left alone in the training yard, “You don’t seem to be making much headway with my sister.”

           Jon arches a brow at him, unsure whether to laugh or groan or sneer at the jab. A disbelieving scoff leaves him. That curl in his gut, it doesn’t seem to leave these days.  Certainly not when he’s surrounded by maddening Starks.

           “She can be…”  He stops, considers, rolling the words along his tongue, “Difficult.”

           Robb snorts a laugh.  “And you haven’t even met Arya, yet,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

           Jon gives him a questioning look.

           He sobers up easily, gaze going to the space Sansa had occupied.  “The thing is,” he says, tone disconcerting and inexplicably low, “Sansa generally gives people the benefit of the doubt.  Looks for the good in them.  And she’s never discourteous.”  He looks to Jon sharply then, eyes probing.  “Which makes me wonder what the hell it is you’ve done to make her so.”

           Jon sucks a breath through his teeth, gaze never relenting on Robb.

           Just a common brute, he imagines her thinking, remembering the heat of her glare when he’d dragged her into his arms.

           (And why should it matter?  The thought pesters at the edge of his mind, insistent.)

           “I’ve not harmed her, if that’s what you’re implying,” he near growls.

           Robb considers him a moment, cocking his head at him.  “No,” he muses softly.  “No, she wouldn’t allow that.”

           You will unhand me, my lord.

           It’s not a line he means to toe again.

           “And I don’t believe you would,” Robb says finally, eyeing him still.

           It shouldn’t make him feel like this – grateful and relieved and seen. Least of all, by a Stark.  And yet here he is, greedily taking in his words, that recognition.

           A tendril of copper hair just out of reach, a glance of frost-blue eyes, throat pale and slender and gulping beneath his calloused touch.

           The searing impression of her earnestness, frail and genuine.

           No, he would not hurt her.

           The realization is startling in its sincerity.

           “Forgive me, my lord, for my bluntness,” Robb begins, face grave, “But Sansa is a tender sort, too tender for her own good sometimes, and whatever it is that’s between you two, whatever it is that’s…hardened her, I do not care for it.”

           Jon blinks at Robb’s sudden fervency, mouth parting, but no words coming forth.

           “As a brother yourself, I think you can understand that,” Robb says.

           The bile is ripe at the back of his throat, and Jon has to swallow back that slice of shame.

           (Not how one is supposed to love.)

           His head feels too foggy, his chest too tight.  The words sink, weighted, along his tongue, until his throat is rife with them. “I’ve no intention of hurting your sister.”

           No intention, it’s true, but he thinks he might have already, all the same. He grinds his jaw, hand curling over the hilt of the sword still in his grip.  “She’s to be my wife, after all.  And I take care of my own.”

           I don’t want anything from you.

           He pushes the words from his mind, the remembrance carving a place between his ribs to anchor there.

           Because what could he possibly mean to her outside of duty?

           “Then take care of her,” Robb says, the hint of a demand coloring his words, “Properly.”

           Jon gives an incredulous chuckle, rueful and unexpected, hand tightening over the hilt of his sword.  “From one brother to another?”

           “Aye.”

           “She’s not been an easy sort to live with, has she?”

           Robb barks a laugh.  “Aye, I’ll give you that.”

           Jon flashes a knowing smile at Robb, the ease of it unfamiliar and jarring. It’s not an unwelcome feeling though, and perhaps this is where it begins.  

           The blur.  The downfall.

           Robb’s smile wavers somewhat, a hesitancy marring his charm.  He takes a breath, his sudden frown thoughtful, his eyes a soft-hued blue.  “Do right by her, my lord.  I promise, she will always do right by you.”

           It’s not said as a demand or a warning or a compromise.  It’s said like a promise, knowing and comforting.  Like an embrace.

           Like a brother.

           She’ll always do right by you.

           Somehow, he believes it.

           Jon glances to the spot Sansa had previously occupied, his recollection of her playing like shadow on his mind.

           “Valiantly done, my lord.”  A paltry concession.

           And why should it matter?  That thought – that plaguing, insistent thought.  He thinks he understands now, loathe as he is to admit it.

           It matters because suddenly, inexplicably, Jon finds he cares what she thinks of him.

           It matters because her opinion of him means something now.

           Jon swears beneath his breath.

           Fucking Starks.

           He’s going to regret this, he knows.  He’s going to regret every bit of this.

[tmarie82]

A Risk Worth Taking

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x MC (Dr. Alex Knight)

Book: Open Heart

Word Count: ~3,100

Rating: PG-13

Author’s Note: I tried not to jump on the Ramsey train, I resisted as long as I could … yet here I am, whipped and loving it. This is my rendition of the gloriously steamy then angsty chapter 10 diamond scene last week as told from Ethan’s point-of-view. Enjoy!

Please let me know if you would like to be added to my tag list. You can find all of my fics in my Masterlist on my homepage.

~~~~~~~~~~

The soft night breeze tickled lightly against his cheek, ruffling his hair as he lifted the glass of Pinot Noir to his lips and took a smooth sip. He found himself gazing out over the gentle rolling waves of the Atlantic Ocean, mesmerized by the moonlight dancing across the waters in a rhythmic pattern. It was a beautiful night, peaceful and clear … which is exactly why Dr. Ethan Ramsey should have known to stay away.

He had planned for a quiet evening alone, hoping that the tranquil surroundings of this seaside paradise would help him focus and process the eventful day he’d had. Despite his usual reserved demeanor, he’d played a huge gamble on that game with Declan Nash … and luckily won. But it was still a game that he would normally never have risked so much on, a strategic tactic that was well outside of his usual comfort zone.

Perhaps what scared him the most was that he’d taken a different risk tonight, a game he knew he’d already lost the second he agreed to play. She’d asked him to come in for a drink … and he’d said yes.

“So sorry.” Alex’s quiet apologetic voice chimed as her heels clicked softly against the tiles of the balcony. “Sienna made me promise to check in with her tonight after the convention.” She gave him a weak smile as she picked the bottle of wine up from the table, gesturing to him questioningly.

“Thank you.” He murmured, extending his glass to her and allowing her to fill it. He knew he should have stopped after that last glass, the warmth of the alcohol buzzing in his veins and lowering his inhibitions already. “I hope Dr. Trinh was satisfied that we’ve been treating you well.”

Her eyes flicked to his when he spoke, a flash of something unidentifiable behind them as the corners of her lips quirked upwards. “She knows you’re taking good care of me.” She topped off her own glass of wine before sidling up next to him, leaning against the column as she peered out across the ocean. A moment later she glanced over at him, her gaze soft. “And don’t worry, I didn’t tell her everything. Your secret is safe with me.”

Ethan swallowed hard at her confession, unsure which secret she was referencing … Dr. Banerji’s illness, his gamble with Declan earlier this evening, or the fact that he was alone with her under the moonlight at this very moment. He tore his eyes away from hers, staring out over the waves, too afraid to reply for fear that she’d see through him at one word.

“So, I believe you were telling me about Naveen’s plan for the diagnostic team before Sienna interrupted.” Her crystal blue eyes were wide with interest, genuine interest, making it impossible for Ethan not to comply with her request.

“Naveen always hoped we’d find a way to make the diagnostics team publicly funded … So that no one would need to pay, no matter their insurance or income.” A wistful smile met his lips as he recalled the dreams he and his mentor had had for the Edenbrook team. So many dreams, so many years.

“What will he think of getting Panacea Labs involved?” She asked in a hesitant voice.

Ethan shook his head and chuckled. “He’ll give me the worst chewing out of my life. And I’ll deserve it. I’ve compromised his vision, my ethics … “ If only she knew how much my ethics were being tested lately, he pondered as he took another draw of wine. He cleared his throat before speaking again. “But if he survives this … it’ll all have been worth it.”

“Do you really believe that?”

He looked up to meet her eyes, a concerned expression painted across her features. How is she able to know my thoughts before I even know them myself? He sighed with resignation, unable to maintain the confident facade in her presence. “I don’t know. Ten years ago, I was right where you are. A wide-eyed intern, dreaming of what I’d do when I was an attending. I certainly wasn’t dreaming of this.” He paused, his eyes set in a blank stare before him as the disheartening realization washed over him. “But things change. People change.”

They stood together in comfortable silence for a few moments, Ethan relieved that Alex had not pressured him to continue. As the clock ticked by, he became acutely aware of her close proximity … the subtle fragrance of orange blossoms drifting through the space between them, the soft thump of her index finger slowly drumming against her wine glass as she stared out across the waves. Suddenly the silence felt deafening, the easiness of it all feeling far more intimate than words ever could.

Ethan stood upright, loosening the bow tie and collar that felt as if they were choking him all of a sudden. “What about you? What kind of doctor do you see yourself being in ten years?” He hoped she didn’t notice how sharply his words came out at first, as if he were trying too hard to keep things casual.

Without hesitation, Alex looked at him straight-on and responded. “The kind of doctor who could make a difference in patient care.”

Of course … He knew the answer without asking, having seen evidence of it every day since she’d arrived at Edenbrook. Her passion for her patients was one of the things that made her so great. One of the things he admired the most about her. “More than you do now?”

She scoffed, shrugging her shoulders in dismay as she studied him. ”I’m only an intern! I do barely anything now!”

He shook his head in disagreement. “Not true. I’ve seen how hard you work for your patients. Even if they don’t always value it, you do make a difference.”

“But not enough!” Alex exclaimed loudly, her emotions getting the best of her. Ethan fought the urge to smile at her outburst, at the adorable way he’d found her eyebrows knitted when she got fired up. “I helped one uninsured patient receive care, but I can’t find loopholes for everyone.” She released a loud huff, slumping against the column and staring off into the distance. When she had finally calmed she turned back to face him, sincerity behind her eyes. “The entire system needs to change, and I want to be a part of it.”

“And I have no doubt you’ll find a way.” His voice was softer now, gentle and reassuring.

“It just seems like … the higher I aspire, the more I stand to lose.” Her voice trailed off in a shaky whisper. As the moonlight cast across her face, he saw the gleam of unshed tears in her eyes. And it nearly took his breath away.

“I … certainly understand that.” His words came out soft and low. He felt something stirring within him, so mesmerized by the beauty in her vulnerability. He wanted so badly to reach out and hold her, to wipe away her tears and comfort her. So instead he tried to comfort her in the only way he could … by sharing with her a side of him that he’d kept locked away for so long. “What you saw tonight, that’s not me. I don’t gamble … on anything. I don’t take chances.”

He set down his glass and rubbed his hands together as he leaned over the railing. When he glanced up he found her waiting patiently, stray wisps of her golden hair fluttering in the wind as she focused on his face. Meeting her gaze, he felt his body relax and his nerves calm as he continued his confession. “Medicine is an assembly of facts leading to a conclusion. Once you know the rules and understand the diseases you’re working with, the risk should be minimal. Your decisions are informed, and you choose the safest path. But that card game … I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Alex shifted closer, resting a hand lightly atop his on the railing. The warmth of her palm on his skin was comforting, the moonlight dancing in her eyes entrancing. “I don’t know. It seemed like a pretty well-informed decision to me.”

“Risking Naveen’s treatment on a game? Having to hope I’d judged Declan’s character well enough to risk losing instead of using a winning hand?” The rational side of him persisted, a deep grumble erupting from his throat. “There were too many variables! I could have lost everything!” He closed his eyes and sighed, hanging his head defeatedly.

The soft squeeze of her hand on his brought him back to the moment. “But you were right. Your risk paid off.”

“It did … and I’m beginning to realize …” He raised his head to find her face closer now, so close that he could see the flecks of grey dotted in her sapphire irises and the light dusting of freckles across her nose. “There are some things that are worth any risk.”

Ever so slowly, Alex raised her hand to his face, her eyes following its motion as she tentatively stroked his cheek before cupping it in her palm. When she finally met his stare, her eyes glistening in the moonlight, Ethan felt the rest of the world fading away. “Alex, I …”

“I know.” She whispered … and he knew she did. He closed his eyes, nuzzling his face into her palm and reveling in the delicate stroke of her thumb across his cheekbone. He inhaled deeply, the smell of her skin intoxicating him, awakening an ache deep within him …

Suddenly his eyes flew open, flashing with desire as he swiftly looped an arm around her waist and pulled her body flush against his. Alex released a sharp exhale of surprise, but it was quickly muffled by his lips capturing hers in a fervent kiss. She melted into him, returning his kiss willingly until she finally pulled away breathless. “Dr. Ramsey, you’re—“

“Ethan.” He commanded, his steely grey eyes searching hers.

“Ethan …” She tried it carefully, the sound of his name from her lips causing his heart to swell. “I’ve been wanting this.”

He marveled as her lips turned up in a satisfied smile. “So have I.” His expression turned tender as he lifted a hand to graze her jaw, then twined his fingers through her hair to gently guide her lips back to his. He kissed her softly, slowly, communicating all the emotions that his closed-off heart was unable to say out loud. His lips traveled across her jaw, up to her temple, pressing a single kiss over each of her eyelids … treasuring each touch, each noise, each moment as if he wanted it to last forever.

When his mouth met hers again, Alex gripped him by the lapels of his jacket, holding him tightly against her. Her lips parted slightly against his, inviting him in, demanding more. She met his tongue timidly at first, tickling his lips until he was ravenous, kissing her deeply. Moaning audibly, her back arched into him as his hands ran down her sides. Her fingers glided through his dark hair and her breath came out in soft pants as his lips blazed a hot path down her neck. Lightly tracing his finger along the hollow of her neck and across her collarbone, his lips follow behind them laying soft kisses against her warm skin. His thumb trails along the edge of her dress, kneading the curvy flesh of her breast spilling over until she was squirming against him.

When she slid her hands over the firm skin of his chest, attempting to shrug the stiff white fabric of his shirt off his shoulders, Ethan reached up to halt her moving hands with his own. His eyes, normally the color of a blue sky on a warm spring day, were almost as dark as a starless night as they bored into hers. His words came out in a breathy exhale, tentative and low. “What if someone sees us?”

“I don’t care.” Alex murmured, her eyes dark and her lips pursed in a coy smirk. She pushed him with the palms of her hands pressed against his chest until his back met the railing, leaning her body against his until her face is dangerously close. “Let them see.”

Ethan released a low growl and surged forward to capture her lips again, cupping her waist in his broad grip. His hands roamed down her thighs, across her backside, the fabric of her dress bunched in his fists as he grasped her by the hips to pull her tighter. She moaned into his mouth and dug her fingers into the skin at his waist when she felt the hard evidence of his arousal against her belly.

“Alexandra …” his breath tickled her skin as he whispered her name.

She pulled away, her expression drowsy and blissful. “You said my name. My whole name.”

He leaned back slightly, his eyes focused on the gentle slope of her mouth as it tugged into a smile. “It’s beautiful.” His studied her features, his gaze filled with affection. “You’re beautiful, Alexandra.” He lifts a hand to brush the blonde hair from her brow, his thumb lingering on her lip, pink and swollen from his kisses. “What are you doing to me?” He whispered, his voice filled with awe.

“Hopefully something good.” She gives him a soft smile, her eyes searching his.

“Alex, I’ve never done anything like this. Ever. This is- “ Alex stops him, hushing him with a single finger against his lips. He watched in bewilderment as she pressed her palm against his chest where his heart beat, then slowly took his hand to place over her own.

He stared at his hand pressed against her skin, almost able to see the vibrations of her heart thudding in her chest, the rhythm against his fingertips matching the cadence of his own. He raised his gaze, his eyes flickering between hers. “You feel amazing.”

She leans into him again, kissing him softly under the moonlight. A strong breeze swirled around them, and he feels her body shiver against him at the chill in the air. He pulled away, rubbing his hands over her bare shoulders to warm her. “Let’s get you inside.” She gives him a slight nod and smiles gratefully, reaching down to lace her fingers in his and leading him inside.

Ethan released her hand at the door, gripping the handle to secure it closed behind them. As the door clicked closed he paused, staring at his fingers wrapped around the handle. Suddenly in the harsh light of reality, without the soft glow of the moonlight and the gentle melody of the ocean waves … everything looked different.

“Ethan?” He hears her call to him, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before turning to her.

She looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her before, her long golden hair unraveled and draped across her shoulders. As she leaned back on one arm the light caught the sequins of her dress, the shimmer dancing with each shallow breath she took. Her eyes were wide and warm, her lips parted slightly as she waited … But to Ethan Ramsey, the most beautiful thing about her in that moment was that she was there for him.

He knew beauty could be a dangerous trick though.

“Ethan?” She asked again, this time her voice shaky.

He took a step forward into the room, still maintaining a safe distance. He straightened his shoulders, holding his head high as if that would make this part easier. “We can’t. We can’t go further. We’ve already crossed a line.”

Her jaw dropped slightly, her mouth agape as she shook her head in confusion. “Did I do something wrong?”

He took another step towards her, extending a hand as if to comfort her. “Of course not, not in the slightest. You …” He caught himself, bringing his hands to his sides as he cleared his throat. “No, I did. I shouldn’t have let this happen. And it can’t happen again.”

“What? Why not?” Her face twisted in a confused scowl, the pain evident in her features.

He clenched his hands into fists. Stay strong. “I’m an attending, and you’re an intern. You’re in the running to join my team. I’d be your boss-“

“So?” He could see the tears forming in her eyes now.

“It’s unethical. And it’s complicated.” His voice was softer now, unable to hide the remorse he was feeling.

“Ethan, no one would have to know.” Her voice was tight as she tried to hold back the sob forming in her throat.

“We would know, Alex. We would know.” He whispered softly.

The first tear fell down her cheek, leaving a wet path in its wake. Ethan felt it like a punch in the gut. If only he could make her understand … “I need to be able to push you to your limits. To help you become the doctor you want to be. The one I know you can be. I can’t do that if I …” His voice trailed off. If I let myself love you.

“If you … what?” She sniffled, her eyes glossy and pleading, desperately clinging to that last shred of hope.

Ethan stepped away, his brows furrowed angrily as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I should have stopped myself before …” He stops, pausing for a moment before raising his eyes to meet hers. The hurt he found there nearly broke his resolve, made him want to forget all the rules and take her in his arms tonight and every night for as long as she would have him. He knew he needed to leave before he let that happen.

“I’ll see you in the morning.” The words came out flat and emotionless, and before he could change his mind he took several broad strides towards the door.

“Ethan!” He winced as he heard her sob his name. True to his intent, he didn’t turn around as he slipped out the door.

~~~

Hours later, he found himself lying awake, staring at the crinkly texture of the paint on the ceiling above him. The image of Alex on the bed with a single tear running down her cheek haunted him, the sound of her crying as he closed the door behind him echoed in his mind.

Ethan Ramsey had always prided himself as being a logical man, determined and responsible. He followed his moral compass all the way to become the successful man he was today. No questions, no regrets … that’s how he had led his life for years now.

So why was tonight the first time doing the right thing felt so wrong?

END

~~~~~~~~~~

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[txladyj-blog]

Chapter 8 - This Time Around

a Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx​

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 23/?

Human nature. With all its complexities and flaws, was now the one thing that presided over a land filled with the dead. True human nature, in its most naked, exposed and unapologetic form was now both the best and worst of the world. Jess had seen the best and worst of it from her spot in the city and had managed to live, unnoticed by any survivors passing through. She’d witnessed grown men put themselves in harms way, sacrificing themselves to save children too slow and small to keep up the running pace of the adults in their group as she’d watched from her perch on the corner of the roof. In contrast, she’d stared in horror as another group simply tossed a woman out of a truck like last night’s burger wrapper, onto the street in order to slow down a small herd. She’d been bitten before Jess could grab her bow and race down the stairs. In an act of mercy that allowed her to prove to herself that she was still on the good side of human nature, she’d shot the woman in the head from the roof with a well-placed arrow and spent all night replaying the look of pure terror etched onto the stranger’s face.

Yes, human nature was complicated and destructive, inspiring and devastating. A double-edged sword. Jess was better off on her own, that much was true, but she did miss the conversation, the debate, the ideas swapping over hot chocolates and the late-night hilarity that came from a few glasses of beer and games of pool in a bar. Those days were gone and now all she had in the way of company was a reanimated dead body at the bottom of the elevator shaft and a huge stuffed bear wearing an army jacket that now took up it’s place opposite her on the roof, a stale birthday cake waited to be devoured between them on an upturned, wooden box.

“Well, Sgt Pepper. Looks like it’s just you and I celebrating another trip around the sun.” she commented as she held her glass aloft.

Merle had finished off all the whiskey and she knew better than to go scrounging for more. It wasn’t a necessity and she wasn’t about to get herself killed for a bout of nausea and a fuzzy head the next day.

The bear was tatty, threads pulled from his ears and his jacket splattered with dried blood. Jess found him in the next apartment block where he’d been positioned proudly on the pillow of a perfectly made bed in a room decorated for that of a young adult. On the floor were three bodies, two adults and a girl around 13 years old. Jess carefully nudged each one with her foot as she passed. The bullet holes in their heads told her that they hadn’t turned and like many of the people that chose to remain in the city, they thought suicide to be a better prospect than the exhausting slog to survive day by day. It hurt Jess’s heart to think that some souls felt there was no other way, but it wasn’t an option she could say she hadn’t considered at least once while she resided in her fortress of loneliness.

It was a no brainer to her. She had to leave with that bear. He reminded her so much of her own childhood companion, jacket and all. Her father had gifted it to her and during every tour and every training exercise, she found comfort in the military bear that she had dubbed ‘Sgt Pepper’. Aware that if any other survivors were passing through and saw her, she would look positively ridiculous, scurrying across the rooftops with a huge stuffed animal under her arm. But just as before the turn, she wasn’t going to change who she was to suit anyone else. Especially not in the apocalypse.

“You say it's your birthday” She sang at the bears pinned and permanent smile. She sipped the soda in the glass and slapped her other hand on her thigh to create a beat. “It's my birthday too, yeah”. She paused, looking up at Sgt Pepper as if his plastic eyes would change their expression and for a fleeting second, she was disappointed when they remained exactly the same. She raised the glass to him for a second time. “They say it's your birthday, we’re gonna have a good time” She thudded the glass on the box and began to pluck at imaginary guitar strings, closing her eyes and leaning to one side. “I'm glad it's your birthday, Happy birthday to you!” The Beatles were her favourite band ever since she was a child and that was not something that was going to change just because they and their audience weren't around anymore. Jess was still there and as long as she was, so was her love of their music. She'd found headphones while scavenging, even and old portable CD player, but her rule of keeping a clear head and always being aware of her surroundings meant that the headphones went untouched and she was reduced to singing to herself to stave off the boredom and silence. It wasn't a problem to her, she knew all of the lyrics anyway and there was no one but Ben and Sgt Pepper to complain about it.

Her eyes lowered to the dried birthday cake. Three, colored, marzipan Balloons floated across the top and the rim was adorned with cracked and discolored frosting. The chances of a strong bout of stomach cramps after consuming it were high, but it was her birthday and she was going to have a damn cake if she wanted to. A single candle flame flickered in the center of the off-white frosting and as she blew it out, she wished that she would survive long enough to see mother nature take back the earth. To reclaim what was hers and what was destroyed by the arrogance of human nature. She wanted to see vines and branches seep into the cracks of buildings, pulling them apart and turning them into a ghostly mirage of what once was. But through it all, she wanted to be around, content and safe and able to live into her old age while still being the survivor she had realized she really was.

She also wished for something else; that one day, Daryl would know how much he inspired her. If nothing else, she wanted that for him. Without his guidance, his training and his words, she was certain she would be dead. He may have broken her heart, but at one point, somewhere in between all the angst and anger, he believed in her. She regretted not writing it in the note she left pinned to the tree but time was of the essence and she had to think quickly. Now, when she thought back to the good times spent tracking and hunting in the woods, putting Walkers down and making fun of one another, it made her smile. A smile that was not through genuine happiness. Far from it. It was a smile of sadness for times that she desperately missed. But they were times of blissful ignorance of how he really felt, times based on a lie. She pressed her eyes shut and quickly shook the thoughts from her head. She watched the thin, sliver of smoke drift up from the wick. Picking up a plastic fork, she stabbed the cake and shoveled a large piece of the sponge into her mouth. Wincing at the dryness, she chewed and swallowed hard. It was like eating sand.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to me.” She sighed.

She had resorted to guessing the time of day by using a sundial or her hands against the horizon from the roof. Her knowledge of such historical practices had proved to be invaluable and she now appreciated her interests much more than she ever did before the turn. The night was creeping in, dulling the view from the roof and creating a cold sting in the air. There was just enough time for some target practice.

The streets below the apartment were far from clear. Walkers milled in and our of side streets and alleys, some amassed in the middle of the road and if it wasn’t for Jess’s diversion tactics from time to time, she was sure the street she lived on would be clogged with festering corpses by now. Fireworks were usually the best, she’d found. They seemed to like fireworks. The dreamer in her liked to think that maybe the noise and the colors stirred something deep inside their mainly inoperative brains, some kind of distant memory of 4th July firework shows or new year celebrations. But the realist side of her knew differently. Now, they were even lower than most animals, driven to move by sounds but completely devoid of thought or any type of feeling. Just shells.

She picked up her bow and slid on her bracers as she approached the small wall that lined the edge of the roof. The faint murmur of the odd, swaying Walker was the only sound that rose from the scene below. Taking a peek over the edge, she nodded in approval at the numbers.

“That’ll do.” She said to herself before picking up a small, children’s chalkboard that rested against the inside of the wall. Her eyes flickered over the names on the list, selecting the first one and shuffling forwards to get into position.

“OK, Madonna. Are you out tonight?”

With one foot placed in front of the other, her body turned and her stance strong, she raised the bow and nocked an arrow. She smiled when she noticed her. A blonde woman with wavy, hair wearing what appeared to be a thin, satin nightgown. She wasn’t as designer clad as the real thing, but she would suffice as a target. She drew the bow string back and exhaled slowly as she took aim. The Arrow embedded in the side of the Walkers head as if it was nothing but a bag of sand and she hit the floor, causing the others around her to start shuffling towards her.

“Oof!” She exclaimed with a fist pumped in the air. “That one was a ten pointer. Sorry, Madonna.” She marked her score on the chalkboard next to the name and checked her next target.

Sarah.

It was now a habit, each time she re-filled the board with names, Sarah and Jodie’s would always be mixed in somewhere. Jess was never one to remain bitter or hold grudges, too many so-called friends had come and gone over the years to make sure she’d got used to it. But she was also never one to not make an exception for some things. When she was feeling low and having a bad day, the list of names on the board changed and she wondered at one point if she should indulge in an ‘abhorrent people target practice day’ once a week, where Sarah and Jodie’s names could mingle with the likes of Hitler, Robert Mugabe and Vlad the Impaler. But it was yet to happen because she wasn’t bitter. Not at all. Or, so she told herself as she chose a doppelganger of Sarah and took aim.  

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Ben was hanging on the bars of the elevator gate when she descended the stairs, his arms were loosely draped through the gaps and his face was pushed against the cold metal. She lifted a hand in acknowledgement before sitting down on the bottom step in front of him and seeing him try to reach out to her. She held her hand out, gently tickling his grasping, blackened fingertips in what could have been seen as a gesture of affection.

“Hey dude. So, my birthday cake tasted like feet but it was one hell of a pity party you missed.”

The sound of her voice was like fuel for Ben. He instantly began to clamber up from his spot, hanging through the gate and started to snarl at her, his mouth hanging open and his teeth bared.

“Not that I know what feet taste like.” She added, her eyes locking on his now cloudy, pale and blinded orbs. “I guess you might though. Depending on how long you’ve been locked in there.”

Stepping back, Ben’s arms dropped from the grate and he stumbled backwards, his body hitting the back of the elevator and causing it to shake. A slight jingle caught her attention and she froze, straining her ears. As he moved back towards her, his pocket gave off a tinkling sound and Jess quickly put the pieces of the puzzle together. Many a week had passed when she’d been sitting on that same step engrossed in a one-way conversation with the dead man trapped inside his cell. Sometimes she even contemplated if he really would try to hurt her if she managed to somehow release him from the confined space he occupied. But then she reminded herself of her own naivety and how that kind of thinking could get her killed. Ben was a Walker. A mindless, stinking, lump of useless flesh but still a predator in his own right.  

“You have the goddamn keys to the elevator in your pocket, don’t you?” She asked him.

He stilled and her eyebrows raised. She knew better than to think he could understand her, but it was strange nonetheless. The keys would change everything. She could get him out of there and actually make use of him. She sprang up from her spot.

“I have an idea. Wait here.” She told him. After striding up two steps she rolled her eyes and sighed at her own stupidity.

Like he’s going to go anywhere.

When she returned, she placed her supplies in front of her; a cylindrical block of wood with a dish cloth tightly wound around it, attached at either end to a string of thick, rubber bands, a hockey mask and a length of rope tied into a slipknot. Another one of her skills acquired from the thousands of books she had now amassed in her apartment. She paced back and forth for a few moments, observing how Ben followed her every move from behind the barrier like a magnet. Although she was almost certain he was blind, he was completely obsessed with her and she huffed with amusement when she figured that he was only guy that had ever been obsessed with her…and he was dead.

She picked up the block of wood and tilted her head to the side, it would fit through the gaps perfectly but her task was not going to be easy. Her left arm was covered with three, thick layers of tape, strapped over a Kevlar sleeve and glove in case Ben fancied a snack halfway through his rescue mission. She was now glad of her forethought. She threaded her arm through the grid, silently and without rattling the metal. Ben, who could detect no sound whatsoever, merely peered around through his useless eyes as she used her armor covered hand to quickly grasp the back of his head. He jolted and began to gnash at her, the sounds bubbling up from his throat as his lips parted provoking a rush of bile from her own stomach. She couldn’t have prepared for the smell or the sound of liquidated, rotting human organs no matter how much she knew about Walkers. She snapped his head back as he grabbed a hold of her police issue vest and dragged her forwards, slamming her body against the gate. With her other hand, she managed to wedge the piece of wood so far between his jaws that they became locked in position. She quickly stretched the string of bands over his head, creating a most macabre and brutal gag but an effective one regardless.

He thrashed and growled, throwing himself at the gate over and over until Jess was able to shove a hand into his pocket and pulled out the biggest bunch of keys she had ever seen. Her heart dropped as she stepped back and sat down, the racket of Ben desperately trying to get to her now drowned out by just how many keys she had to contend with.

“Guys got the keys to every lock in the city on here.” She mumbled.

She began sorting through them, checking the branding on the lock and looking for a match. She must have gone through at least twenty keys before she stopped and pinched one particular one between her fingers. She looked up at the lock again.

“Nova” She whispered.

The key boasted the exact same branding. She stood up, moved closer to the lock and slid the key into the chamber. Holding onto the gate as tightly as she could, she gently and quietly turned the key, a subtle click made her smile. She’d found it. The whole time he’d been locked inside, Ben possessed the key to his freedom all along. At first, she didn’t know if someone else had thrown him in there but now it was evident; he’d been bitten and locked himself in.

“That was noble of you. But this is my apartment complex now and you’re going to earn your keep.” She quipped, swiping up the hockey mask and rope from the floor. She shoved the mask under her arm and released the lock, slowly sliding the gate back. The rattling noise sent Ben into a frenzy and he collided with the gap she’d created in the gate with such force that she doubted her ability to follow through with her plan for a moment. She took a deep breath, reached into the gap and snapped the mask over his gagged face. Next, she threw the rope around his neck and pulled it tight before throwing the gate open.

He threw himself at her, knocking the mask against the side of her face while she tried to tighten her grip on the rope enough to keep his head away from hers.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m pleased to see you too buddy.” She remarked.

Ben couldn’t have been more than 30 years old when he was alive and Jess gathered that even thought he was now deceased and extremely dangerous, he was once a good-looking guy. She felt a pang of sympathy for such a wasted life. But what else was left to hang around for? The experience of wresting the undead from elevators and up the stairs to a roof wasn’t one she’d wish on anyone else. By the time she’d maneuvered him to the top of the steps and shoved open the heavy, metal door to the roof, he’d quieted considerably. Jess knew Walkers didn’t get tired; they no longer possessed the brain capacity to register fatigue. Nor were they able to come to the conclusion that something wasn’t worth the trouble. She didn’t know why he became more compliant, but she certainly wasn’t about to complain.

Tying him to a pipe inside a ramshackle, wooden shed. She stood back and looked him over, pleased with her efforts and feeling triumphant at the result. She now had a moving target, a sparring partner and little did Ben know; he was about to become her Sensei.

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She’d lost track of time. It had been months, she knew that to be a fact, but just how many had escaped her. Her need to journal would have helped keep tabs on just how long she’d been housed in the apartment block in the city, but she had Sgt Pepper and Ben and she chattered away to them without a care in the world, dispelling her darkest fears and her inner most private thoughts. There wasn’t a need to write everything down anymore, not in a world where no one and everyone was listening all at once. If she tried to guess, she looked at her crops which filled the balcony and most of the rooftop, they were huge, prospering in the summertime and struggling during the winter. But they still existed she thought it had maybe been close to a year that she’d lived alone.

People below had come and gone. Rarely was it that anyone would try her apartment. If they did, they found it to be locked up tighter than a secret military camp and soon moved on when they realized the noise and time it would take to enter such a building while surrounded by Walkers just wasn’t worth it. In so many months she had uttered hardly a word to anyone but Merle, who’s absence was felt much greater than she ever would have expected or would care to admit.

Training with Ben was one of life’s perks, she enjoyed experiencing the change in not only her body, but her mind as she jabbed and kicked her way into a full, self-defense skill set using a dead guy as her fake attacker. She goaded him, riled him up until he would lunge at her and swipe with his arms and kick out with his legs. His hands constantly grabbed for her, the need to taste human flesh far too great for him to ignore. But Ben could only go as far as his leash allowed and his hockey mask was eventually replaced each evening before he was led back to his shack.

Gunfire interrupted one sparring session during a hot, summers evening and Jess’s head snapped around while the rest of her body completely froze. Ben also stilled and started to jolt and snarl at the source of the bangs. It was close, much too close for comfort. She wiped the sweat from her brow and eyes and crept to the edge of the roof, her heart almost stopped at the view below.

Is that a…a TANK?!

Driving towards her corner apartment block with a speed that couldn’t be easily stopped, was an M1 Abrams Tank. Jess had seen them many times before, a sight that Army brats tended to get used to. It was flanked by a dozen, heavily armed men with their weapons pointed at the door to her block. Her chest constricted when she heard them start to jeer and her eyes clocked another vehicle turn a corner at the top of the street. A large, black truck that was equipped with an animal cage on the flatbed. Inside the cage, was a screaming woman. She scanned each face as quickly as she could. Blackened teeth. Then, she observed their hands and movements. Tremors. Poor coordination. She’d read about the depths some humans would reach on the moral scale in a post-apocalyptic situation. Fear raged through her body and she stumbled back when the tank collided with the door on the ground floor.

I have to get out of here.

The building shook and she whirled around, her mind racing and her heart hammering. Adrenaline began to surge through her veins, urging her to remove herself from the threat. She grabbed Ben’s rope and sprinted to the roof door. Dragging him down the steps, sweat trickled into her eyes and she cursed the timing of the attack above all things.

Could have waited until training was over. Jesus.

Crashing through the door to her apartment, she fastened Ben’s rope to the radiator and he thrashed and clawed at her as she dashed around the living space, filling her bag with handguns and supplies. She quickly slipped on anything Kevlar or armored she could find and collected what seemed like millions of arrows from almost every room. Now, there was shouting ringing out from the floors below.

“Place is cleared. Someone lives here, keep searching!” ordered a man’s voice that she could just about make out as a muffled sound through the floorboards. They were on the floor below. She had to be fast. Now wasn’t the time for sentiment, now, she had to be practical, smart and stealthy. She threw the backpack she’d lifted from yet another dead policeman onto her back, the barrels of the guns inside poked at her back but she paid it no mind as she collected her primary weapon, her bow from the hook on the back of the front door. A machete nudged against her leg as she walked, pinned there by the loop on its handle around the belt loop on her pants. She quickly freed it, clutching it in her hand as she adjusted her backpack. She stopped and looked at Ben.

He was glaring at her with his white eyes in the middle of the room, his rope was pulled taut and his neck tendons protruded. His hands were locked out in front of him with his fingers fanned out. She could hear the men clearly now, they were on the other side of the door and with every harsh bang of the wood in the frame, her heart jumped. She closed the gap between her and the corpse. Taking hold of one of his hands but not allowing him to pull her any closer. She gradually shifted his position in the room and gently squeezed his fingers.

“Don’t let me down” She whispered.

She raised the machete, sliced through his rope and ripped the wooden gag from his mouth. Then, she turned on her heels, taking hold of the window frame and diving through the gap. Outside, she slammed the window shut and watched as Ben’s hands slapped against the glass.

“Slow ‘em down, buddy. Thanks for the lessons.” She smiled.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Daryl chewed his bottom lip as he adjusted his position on the rickety, prison mattress. His back was pressed against the wall and no matter how hard he tried, she couldn’t shake the thought that of all the places the group could have ended up, a prison had to be one of them. He hated being forced to sleep in a cage and live behind heavy, clanking doors. Even the sound of Rick’s keys irritated him. Rick, the leader. Rick the prison guard.

He wasn’t a regular at the Georgia Department of Corrections like his brother. But he’d been on the wrong side of the law just enough to know what staring at the same four walls, sitting at the same metal table and taking a dump in the same room that you sleep in was like. Charges for drug possession and fighting were hardly the kind of things he wanted to share with the rest of the group and so, he kept himself to himself, merely stating that he’d rather sleep outside of the cells. That was when he slept at all.

In his hands, he held a newly carved bolt for his crossbow. His ability to make them had improved some over the months and it was now second nature to him to create as many as possible while sat around, babysitting his brother who was locked in the cell opposite him.

Merle hadn’t managed to track Daryl down since leaving the city. Instead, he’d come across another group of survivors led by a callous psychopath and had slotted perfectly into his role as the main foot soldier. Everything had been fine and dandy for Merle at first, he was given a metal prosthetic arm with a removable bayonet attachment which meant he was never short of a weapon against the undead. He had a roof over his head, food in his belly and medicine at his disposal. Above all else, he had a purpose, a job that he did well and with gusto. That was, until Daryl appeared in front of him. The Atlanta groups run in with the Governor and his community has resulted in a lot of pain, injuries, fear and grudges, some of it at the hands of Merle, who was at the center of it all, but he was Daryl’s blood and he had made it clear that now they were together again, he would not be parted from Merle again. Initially, the two of them left the group and headed into the woods, but things were not as they used to be. Daryl had changed and with it, Merle felt outcast, even from the lifelong bond the two of them had shared since Daryl had entered the world as a sensitive and observant child. Merle quickly realized that Daryl had a code that he stuck by no matter what. A code that meant others were put before himself which infuriated and baffled Merle. A fight in the woods revealed a childhood trauma that they both shared, much to Merle’s surprise. He was aware that Daryl was a witness to violence in their household, but the extent of which was only evident upon a scuffle in which Daryl’s shirt was ripped, revealing deep, scarred lacerations to his skin. Then, everything changed.

Daryl made it clear that he was going back to the prison. Back to the group he belonged with and Merle had the choice to either walk away or try to make nice with the others. Being parted from his little brother for a second time was the less favorable option and so, Merle decided to tag along with Daryl. Upon their arrival at the fences, they found the place under attack from Walkers and although Merle helped to save lives, he was still bundled into a cell and scowled at by every other member of the group. No one had forgotten the things he had done and no one was about to forgive and forget.

“The hell were ya doin, running with that psycho?” Daryl asked.

Merle was leaning on the bars, his good hand smoothing a thumb around the edging of his prosthetic stump. His hooded, weathered eyes fixed on his brother. He found it difficult to believe that someone could change as much as Daryl had. He saw him, carrying out orders for Rick, going out on runs alone, doing as he was told. It was unlike the Daryl he’d grown up with, yet he’d always known that his baby brother was more emotionally driven than he had ever been.

“Everybody’s a psycho now, little brother. Everybody’s got a gun, a kill number and a big ol’ chip on their shoulder. Hell, I’d be more worried if some sommbitch walked up to me with his mitts in his pockets.” He reasoned with a small shrug.

Daryl shook his head in disbelief at his brother’s casual attitude to his actions. Merle was never one to take responsibility for anything, least of all his misgivings. Apparently, the end of the world hadn’t changed that in him.

“They ain’t never gonna trust ya, ya know that, right?” Daryl confirmed.

“Yeah, I know.” Merle agreed with a hint of exasperation in his voice. Daryl went back to carving his bolts, slicing through thin pieces of wood with his sharp hunting knife. “I don’t know why I do the things I do. I’m a damn mystery to me.” Merle added.

Daryl scoffed and glanced up from his task.

“You’re a dumb ass, man.” He mumbled.

They both huffed in amusement and Merle couldn’t help but revisit the last few months and how he’d come to be locked up in a cell, even after everyone died and started eating one another. Was this really where he was meant to be? Maybe he was bad through and through, just like their daddy used to say. Maybe he didn’t deserve any more chances after the one he’d been given in the city. Then, he remembered her. Jess.  

“Remember the little, fat chick from the quarry?” He asked.

Daryl's body tensed and his eyes slowly worked back up from his bolt. He remembered her. Of course, he did. He thought about her every single day, especially when he closed his eyes at night. He wished he could wake up one day and she’d just be there, having never ran away. He remembered her because she was the only person he’d managed to connect with in his entire, sorry life.

“What ‘bout her?” he rasped.

“I seen her” Merle stated, his expression becoming smug as he straightened up and tilted his head back, looking down his nose at Daryl.

“She’s alive?!” Daryl exclaimed as he sat up to gain a better view of his brother’s expression. It was not lost on him that this could all be a lie to get him out of the cell.

“Was a few months back, mind. But yeah, all in one piece.” Merle told him.

Daryl stood up, dropping his knife and bolt and slowly approaching the cell door.

“Where is she?” he wanted to know.

Merle grunted and rubbed his face as he watched Daryl’s entire demeanor change. He was becoming irritated at the lack of information and it was apparent to Merle that Jess meant something to him, after all.

“Asked me to keep my mouth shut about that part.”

With his teeth locked together and his breathing increasing, Daryl began to stalk back and forth in front of the cell door, his boots scuffing on the smooth surface of the floor. He no longer thought it was a lie. He knew well enough that Jess would have made herself known if she wanted to, especially by then. After all, he found a note to prove it.

“She don’t wanna be found, kid. Let it go.” Merle added.

He stopped his pacing and let out a loud sigh. This kind of discussion was rare for the Dixons, it involved a degree of emotion and honestly which was something Merle didn’t seem to possess and Daryl managed to hide extremely well. Until the mention of her name.

“She doin OK?” He questioned “Least tell me that much. Please”

“She’s good. She’s real smart.” Merle nodded.

Picking up a pile of previously carved arrows from a table, Daryl began to sift through them with his fingertips. It looked to Merle like he was counting them, but he knew Daryl better than he knew himself. He was using them as a distraction. Merle didn’t even flinch when Daryl angrily threw the handful of wood onto the floor, the sound was like a million pencils falling from a table and rolling across the ground.

“Just tell me where she is!” Daryl raged.

Merle couldn’t help it when the corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile.

“Ooof! You got it bad, huh, boy?”

“Shut up.” Daryl hissed, turning his back and trying to calm himself. His shoulders heaved as he breathed. “I’m your fuckin’ brother” He muttered, hearing a rasped growl from behind him. A glance over his shoulder told him that Merle did really want to tell him as he witnessed him lean his head on the bars and close his eyes.

“I owe her, OK? She did right by me. Mans only as good as his word.” Merle explained.

Daryl spun around, his face now enraged and reddening fast, his eyes were filled with the kind of anger that Merle had usually only seen when the two of them fought and it was never the same kind of rage that presented itself in a fight with anyone else. It was different. It was real.

“Word?! WORD?! You can’t be fuckin’ serious! Your word counts for shit, Merle! You tortured Glenn and Maggie so don’t start pretendin’ you’re some good guy, ya ain’t!” Daryl yelled.

“I ain’t no good guy but I got a code. Just like you.” Merle retorted.

Stooping down to collect his arrows, Daryl knew he had to remove himself from the building or he would end up strangling the truth out of his own brother. With all of the arrows gripped in his hand, he pointed them at Merle and narrowed his gaze.

“If they wanna starve ya, I’mma let ‘em. If they wanna torture ya, I’mma walk away. I ain’t doin’ nothin’ for ya until ya tell me where Jess is. They can keep ya in that damn cage for all I care.”

Before he could think of an answer, Merle was left alone in the room with nothing but the fading echo of the door slamming for company.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Jess was running for so long that her feet were starting to burn and her knees were seizing up. She needed to stop somewhere and rest but being snared by the group of men with the black teeth and the woman in the cage was a thought that struck pure terror into her soul. She was sure she’d rather be eaten by Walkers than trapped with such a group. She’d stayed away from any roads, trekking through woodland and climbing over fences to remain undetected. Her clothing had helped keep her under the radar; a tight, black Kevlar top covered with her police vest and a black, hooded jacket. Dark camouflage cargo pants, black hand gun holsters and a mask that covered her mouth with a plastic outer shell that she had found on a dead biker as she fled the city.

Her bag was starting to feel heavier with every step as she approached a small town filled with abandoned cars. It looked as though people may have tried to settle there after the outbreak and the vehicles were left in a panic. She surged forwards, trying each car, looking for keys and gas. If she could just find one with enough to get her further away from the city, she could take some time to rest up. Darkness enveloped the town and birds and crickets sang a chorus as she wound her way through the cars, pleading with whatever deity would listen to just give her a break.

Then, her prayers were answered. A station wagon filled with boxes of clothes roared to life and to Jess’s delight, the tank was almost full. She set to work removing all the boxes, lightening the load so the gas wouldn’t be consumed as quickly and settled in the front seat. She pulled the door closed and drove off. Her destination was unknown but as far away from the city as she could get would be a start.

It was days before the truck ran out of gas and Jess had managed to put many, many miles in between her and the group that had almost captured her. On her journey, she’d swept through houses and collected anything she could carry on foot. She slept in buildings where they could be secured and had more than one exit, consumed any food she found in strict intervals, ensuring it lasted as long as possible and continued in the same direction she’d been travelling in for two weeks. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for in a settlement, just that it had to be safe, away from other people and walkers and with the capacity to be self-sustainable. Then, she found the boat.

Situated in the middle of a lake, accessible only by a large, fortified gate at the end of a dirt track that was well hidden from any passersby, Jess thought it might have been an old quarry due to its similarities to the old camp. The top of the gate was covered with razor wire and she narrowly avoided being sliced to ribbons when she caught her backpack on the barbs. But a rigorous wiggle and some quick thinking had literally saved her skin. The boat was so far away from the shoreline that Jess accepted that she had to use a canoe that was moored by a jetty. The water appeared to be untouched and there wasn’t a walker in sight. But chances weren’t to be taken when the dead roam the earth and she had to be sure. A collection of rocks of all sizes ended up in the lake, she threw them out as far as she could, trying to cause a stir and encourage any swimming walkers to rise to the surface. But nothing came to pass. By the evening, she’d hunted a rabbit and cooked it over a small fire on the beach. Using the skin attached to a tree branch, she dangled it in the water as the sun was going down and pondered how relaxing the place seemed.

“Huh. Walker fishing.” She mumbled to herself.

When nothing happened and the rabbit skin floated off the branch and out into the body of water, she decided to risk rowing out to the boat. Much to her surprise, the water was crystal clear and she spotted fish swimming below. Her stomach growled, the stringy, fatty meat of a rabbit hardly sufficing when such plump, and apparently disease-free fish were swimming all around her.

I need a fishing rod.

Climbing aboard, it was clear that she was not stood on a regular boat. This was luxurious, spacious and well looked after. The deck was starting to show signs of disrepair but it was a far cry from the dilapidated state of some of the houses she’d stayed in. She crept inside, sweeping the rooms one by one and eventually finding the inhabitants of the vessel. A middle-aged couple on the double bed in the largest bedroom of three. Both wrapped in an embrace in the middle of a mass of bottles of pills. She moved into the room, draping a sheet over them and resting her hand on the man’s arm.

“I hope you’re at peace. The world sure isn’t”

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

Merle stared at the dangerous, powerful and very angry black woman in the passenger seat of his car. She was not one to be messed with and that explained why he needed to knock her out before bundling her into the car and driving her to the Governor. It was all the man wanted. Michonne was responsible for his life changing injury after taking one of his eyes out with her samurai sword. Now, he wanted revenge and Merle was more than aware that if the Governor didn’t get what he wanted; he would obliterate the entire group. The group his brother was a part of.

“So, he takes you in, cleans you up and feeds you a load of bullshit. Why would you kill someone else for him?” She asked.

Merle didn’t answer, his eyes were on the road but his attention was elsewhere, with the safety of his brother back at the prison. He didn’t want to be there, handing Michonne over to the man that would ultimately torture and kill her was most definitely not something he wanted to do. But there were little options that he could see. Only he knew the true wrath of the Governor.

“We could go back. You and me. We could just go back.” She suggested.

“Ain’t gonna happen.” He commented.

“Why?”

Her eyes were bearing into his soul and wished he could put into words the things that were circulating in his mind. He had killed sixteen people since he’d been with the governor. Before that, he’d killed none. It dawned on him that Michonne was right, why would he kill any more people when he did have another way out? The alternative was less appealing and altogether more permanent. But it was an alternative nevertheless. He stopped the car and raised his prosthetic hand, the bayonet was fixed to the end. Michonne leaned back slightly in her seat, wondering if he might slit her throat there and then and cut out all the talking. Instead, Merle hooked the blade through her wire handcuffs and cut her free.

“You go back. I got somethin’ I gotta do on my own.” He told her, nodding towards the door. “But you’re gonna tell my brother somethin’ for me.”

NEXT CHAPTER

[cakesunflower]

Sugar Coated Pain [Boxer!Calum AU] Ch. 3

All Chapters: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Chapter 24 | Epilogue | BONUS CHAPTER

Chapter 3

“I STILL FEEL bad, leaving you here by yourself,” Noelle worried, willing herself not to chew on her lips so she didn’t eat off the lipstick staining them.

Her seventeen year old sister rolled her eyes in exasperation. “I’m gonna be fine, Elle,” Andrea insisted. “I just found out Amazon Prime has all the seasons of Bones on it so I’m gonna binge watch the crap out of that and order food that I’m gonna eat until I pass out. It’s gonna be a fun night.”

Beverly descended the stairs that led right into the living room the other two were in. “Since when do you have an Amazon Prime account?”

Andrea grinned impishly. “Mom got sick of me begging for it and gave in. Perks of being the paraplegic child.”

Both Beverly and Noelle scoffed and rolled their eyes, used to Andrea using her disability as a way of getting what she wanted, though Andrea didn’t even have to use that as an excuse because they all babied her anyway. Still, Noelle and Beverly couldn’t help but shake their head in amusement as Andrea giggled giddily. She’s been paralyzed for three years now, and at this point she was fully capable of cracking jokes about her being confined to a wheelchair.

It had been a tragic accident, one involving Andrea and their father and a drunk driver, in which Mr. Simon died on impact and the driver was imprisoned for driving under the influence. It was one of the toughest times for Noelle and her family, trying to deal with their dad’s death and helping the youngest of the family adjust to a life in a wheelchair. For the longest time Andrea was angry at everything in the world—for the loss of their dad and for the loss of feeling below her waist—and it wasn’t until a year and a half after the accident where Andrea cracked the first joke in regards of her being a paraplegic.

“Okay, but if you need anything, call either of us, alright?” Noelle told Andrea with a raise of her eyebrows, unplugging her phone from the charger by the couch.

The seventeen year old nodded before waving her sisters off, telling them to leave already. It wasn’t often that the girls left Andrea alone at the house; their mom had long hours at the hospital and while Andrea was fully capable of taking care of herself, they still worried over her. They couldn’t help it; she was their baby sister. They’d been taking care of her long before she was ever paralyzed.

“So what’s Ashton throwing this party for?” Noelle asked once she and Beverly slid into the backseat of the Uber, leaning her back against the door as she faced her sister.

Beverly ran her fingers through her blonde hair to push it back. “Cal won every match he had this week so Ash sometimes throws a little celebration type thing. Obviously no one really knows the real reason for the parties because of what Cal does but, you know, still fun,” she explained with a shrug before grinning happily. “Now that you’re back in town, I finally have someone to go with!”

Noelle smiled wryly, pulling her phone out to scroll through social media. “Joy,” she dryly responded, though she was fine with accompanying Beverly.

Truly, Noelle was never opposed to a night out when she really wanted to go and from what Beverly has told her, Ashton’s parties or get-togethers were always a fun time, so it was time Noelle attended one. Though, the fact that this particular party was for Calum, meaning he would be there, had Noelle’s gut twisting nervously. Obviously, she hasn’t seen him since she met him the first time three nights ago, but Noelle wasn’t going to forget the disgruntled way he looked at her. She could only hope he wouldn’t be irritated by her presence and make her feel embarrassed once more.

If she was someone else, it would be enough for her to reject the invitation, but Calum was too handsome for Noelle to not want to just get a glimpse of him again. Was that desperate? Maybe.

They arrived to Ashton’s apartment in SoHo within fifteen minutes, getting rung in through the front security desk by Ashton and using the elevator to go to the fourth floor. When they walked in through the unlocked door, Noelle couldn’t help but notice how nice Ashton’s apartment was, having never been there before. Large windows and slanted ceilings with lights embedded in them, and sleek wood floors. Ashton was a general manager at a popular gym in Manhattan and he earned a pretty penny, and his residence showed that in the least obnoxious way possible.

There was music playing at an appropriate, non-deafening volume and there were a bunch of people hanging around with drinks in their hands as they talked and mingled. Noelle was relieved to see it wasn’t like a literal house party, many of which she attended during high school and college, and that everyone here seemed much more relaxed yet enjoying their time.

“They’re in the kitchen,” Beverly said, nodding towards the left of the apartment before leading her sister over. Noelle noticed Beverly waving and saying hi to a few people as they walked, already familiar with almost everyone there as they entered the kitchen.

“You’re here!” Came Ashton’s cheery voice and Noelle easily caught sight of the dirty blonde haired man as he moved his way around the center counter that was full of different types of alcoholic bottles, weaving past a few people that were lingering about. He reached them hugging and kissing Beverly with a grin. “Hiya, Noelle, I’m happy you’re here,” he added genuinely, pulling the younger girl for a surprise hug.

Noelle couldn’t help but smile as she returned the hug before pulling away. “I can never say no to free drinks, you know,” she teased.

Ashton giggled before nodding towards the counter. “What’ll you have?”

Before Noelle could answer, Beverly said to him, “Oh, make her a tequila sunrise.” To Noelle, she smiled, “He’s an expert at making that drink. So good.”

Not one to say no to a good drink, Noelle merely nodded and smiled in agreement as Ashton moved towards the counter to make two of them for the girls. As he did so, Beverly leaned forward on the counter opposite of Ashton as she asked, “Where are the others?”

As Ashton picked up the bottle of orange juice, he hummed, “Michael and Luke are around here somewhere and Cal stepped out for a smoke.”

Noelle tilted her head slightly as Beverly quirked a brow. “Isn’t he trying to quit?”

Ashton snorted. “Trying be the key term. We all know Cal’s not one to quit easily.”

“Stop talking shit about me behind my back, mate.”

Noelle felt her back straighten at the deep voice sounding behind her, watching from the corner of her eye as Calum appeared next to Beverly on the side of the counter diagonal of Noelle. Her gaze remained on him, taking in his simple outfit of black jeans and a white shirt with a black leather jacket on top, her thoughts immediately consisting of how damn good he looked. She watched as Calum reached for the stack of cups before pouring in whatever drink was mixed in a glass bottle, her eyes going to the tattoos on his hands, the silver bracelets on each wrist and the chunky rings on his fingers. A man’s hands should not look as good as Calum’s did.

“I’m not talking shit!” Ashton defended with a high pitched laugh before handing Noelle and Beverly their cups. “Just, you know. . . Complimenting you on your determination.”

Calum scoffed, looking away from Ashton to his left as he brought the cups to his lips. “Bullshit.”

It was when he turned his head when Noelle spotted the bruise that was blooming on his cheek, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of it. Dark blue and purple in color yet not too big in size, right on the side of his face near his jaw and she couldn’t help but wince slightly, thinking of the punch that was the cause of it. If almost everyone here didn’t know about Calum’s fighting, what did he tell them if they asked about his bruise?

“Oh, shit, ouch,” Beverly’s eyes widened, leaning forward slightly as she looked at the black haired boy’s face. Apparently she wasn’t hesitant on bringing up the bruise like Noelle was. “That looks like it hurts.”

Calum’s eyes flickered over to her, throat working as he swallowed his drink without complaint and lowered the cup. “Nothin’ I’m not used to,” was his reply, the corner of his lips curling smugly. Then his eyes shifted over slightly, finally landing on Noelle as she took a sip of her admittedly delicious drink. “Noelle, right?”

Honestly, Noelle was surprised that she didn’t choke on her sip as Calum addressed her, taking her by surprise as she swallowed her drink. Tequila always warmed her up easily, despite it being mixed or not, but she was sure the warmth spreading up her neck had more to do with the pair of dark brown eyes staring at her rather than her drink. “Um, yeah,” she stumbled out, mentally cursing herself for sounding unsure. “Hi.”

Calum merely nodded in return, making Noelle bristle slightly—how could a subtle action make her feel so unwelcome, and why did she care so much?—until Beverly spoke up. “Congrats on your wins, Cal,” she smiled, holding her cup out to him as she dramatically added, “You’ve made me proud.”

The tall, curly haired boy snorted, lifting his eyebrows at her as he responded, “It’s why I do it.”

                                                      ♔♔♔♔♔

Calum raised unimpressed eyebrows as he stared at his two best friends, who were singing a Queen song terribly and totally off-key, as he sat on Ashton’s couch with his legs spread and a red cup in his hand. Though they weren’t singing all too well, Ashton and Luke were definitely entertaining everyone here with their rendition of We Are The Champions. Calum knew getting Ashton that karaoke machine for Christmas would be a bad idea.

As Luke and Ashton started the second verse, an arm wrapped around the other as Ashton held the mic in his right hand and Luke held his cup in his left, Calum couldn’t help but let out a deep chuckle. Everyone around was laughing and recording the two of them, and Calum shook his head in amusement as Ashton and Luke swayed while singing. The party was a few hours in and his friends were a few drinks in, and Calum was surprised either one of them was staying upright.

His gaze flickered around the room before ultimately landing on a face he’s seen twice now. Noelle stood leaning against the wall that separated the kitchen and living room, a bottle of beer in hand after switching it from the liquor and a wide grin on her face that showed off dimples Calum wasn’t aware she had, as her eyes remained on Ashton and Luke. Just like everyone else, she was wildly entertained by the show the two idiots were putting on, her mouth forming soundless words whenever she spoke to Beverly.

Calum’s eyes trailed up her figure, taking in the exposure of her legs due to the blue shorts she wore and the way her pale yellow, form fitting tank top hugged her tightly. He attempted to ignore the tightening in his jeans at the sight of her slender neck, wondering what it’d be like to have his hand wrapped around it and lips pressed against the skin. Calum wasn’t afraid to admit he had similar thoughts the moment he saw her after stepping off the ring, wondering who the hell she was and what she was doing at his match, but he wasn’t going to voice his desires about Noelle after just meeting her. Especially not to Beverly or Ashton.

“That was for my man Calum Hood!” Ashton’s voice rang through the house thanks to the karaoke machine speakers, drawing the Australian’s attention back to his friends who had apparently finished the song already and everyone broke out into cheers. Calum’s eyebrows shot up once more in amusement as Ashton gestured to him with one hand and pressed his other to his chest. “The champion of my heart.”

Despite himself, Calum couldn’t help but let out a laugh at Ashton’s words, shaking his head as he lifted his cup to his two laughing friends in cheers, shaking his head before taking a sip of the hunch punch. “You’re ridiculous, mate,” Calum announced after swallowing his drink. Still, he found the gesture nice.

About an hour or so later, after Calum finished sipping at his first cup of mixed drink and was now nursing another one, he made his way towards the bathroom in the hallway. He may have taken small sips of his drinks as an attempt to uselessly stall the effect of the alcohol he was consuming, but he still had to really fucking pee.

Which was frustrating because the bathroom door was locked. “For fuck’s sake,” Calum cursed under his breath, wishing that Ashton had more than one bathroom in his place. Raising his free hand, Calum rapped sharply and impatiently on the door with his knuckles. “Others have to use the bathroom, too!”

Okay, so he may be slightly tipsy and raised his voice a bit louder than necessary, garnering the attention of the few people lingering in the hallway, though he paid them no mind. He was too focused on making sure he didn’t piss his damn pants right there. Calum let out a groan when no one on the other side responded, clenching his jaw and leaning his forehead against the wooden door, eyes shut in exasperation.

But then the door suddenly swung open, and Calum lost all sense of his fighting agility as he stumbled forward at the lack of support, eyes shooting wide open. His free hand shot out to grasp the door frame, but not before the contents of his full cup sloshed and a good chunk of his beverage spilled out.

A startled gasp sounded in front of him, and Calum looked up in surprise to see Noelle standing in the bathroom, her hazel eyes widened as she remained frozen. For a brief moment, he wondered if she looked so startled because he was standing there, but then his eyes trailed down and caught sight of her pale top and blue shorts darkened by the reddish-purple drink he had been consuming.

“Oh, my God,” Noelle breathed out, stunned at the sudden cold wetness on her front. She looked down, taking in the drink that had spilled on her right below her collarbone, effectively wetting her skin and staining her light colored clothes. It was wet and sticky.

Calum, too, was staring at what he accidentally caused, gaze lingering on the area right above her breasts that was glistening with the drink, forcing himself to break his stare when he realized who those ridiculously nice pair of breasts belong to. “Give a guy a warning next time, will you?” he practically snapped, immediately defaulting to his usual cold demeanor.

Noelle’s head snapped up, eyebrows lifting in surprise as her mouth dropped open with a scoff. Sure, she was a bit shaken at the fact that it was Calum who spilled his drink on her, but why was he the one with the attitude in this situation? “Are you kidding?” she let out a short disbelieving laugh. “You’re the one who spilled his drink on me!”

Calum dropped his hand from the door frame, straightening to stand at his full height and fighting the smug smirk that threatened to grow when he noticed Noelle’s throat work nervously as her gaze flickered up to maintain eye contact. “You’re the one who opened the damn door out of nowhere.”

Was he serious? “Because you were knocking and yelling on the other side!” Noelle countered, bringing her fingers to the front of her tank to pull the tight material away from her skin. She let out a small groan—her clothes were totally going to be stained now. A glare furrowed her brows as she looked up at Calum, completely forgetting that this guy definitely intimidated her as she demanded, “What were you even doing, leaning against the door like that? This is your fault.”

He seriously didn’t have time for this. Sure, Calum felt kind of bad for spilling his drink on Noelle, but that didn’t come anywhere near as the urgency he felt for needing to use the damn bathroom. And, yeah, he knew it was his fault for leaning against the door and losing his balance but apologizing wasn’t in Calum’s nature, and he wasn’t about to start now.

Grunting, Calum reached forward and placed his half empty cup on the sink right next to Noelle before shrugging off the leather jacket he wore. It was his favorite jacket, with two white stripes running down the length of the sleeves, but he begrudgingly put that aside as he held it out to Noelle, who blinked at the piece of apparel in confusion. Impatiently, Calum shook it and said through gritted teeth, “Just wear it over your clothes for now and get out of the damn bathroom, for shit’s sake. I have to piss.”

Immediately Noelle’s face scrunched up in mild disgust but when she took in the irritated expression Calum wore, mixed with the bruise on his cheek, she clamped her mouth shut and took the offered jacket with a somewhat shaky hand. He was lending her his jacket?

When she took it, Calum stepped aside and waved his hand, raising his eyebrows as he silently gestured for her to get the hell out. Noelle swallowed inaudibly before shuffling through the narrow doorway, catching a whiff of whatever cologne Calum wore over the pungent stench of the alcohol she was wearing, and wincing slightly when the door slammed shut behind her.

Calum let out a relieving sigh once he flushed and zipped up his pants, washing his hands as he stared at himself in the mirror. He turned his head to the left, hands still running under the cold water, as he assessed the bruise on his cheek. It still hurt when his facial muscles moved a certain way, and every time Calum felt that sting of pain he also felt a surge of anger for letting Underwood get that hit in in the first place. It was a slip on Calum’s part, lost in a thinking strategy during the fight a second too long and not seeing Underwood’s left hook coming for him, but managing to return the favor by knocking him the fuck out. It was a lucky shot on Underwood’s part and Calum was determined to not let it happen again.

Grunting, Calum grabbed his drink and drained the rest of it in the sink before dropping the cup in the trash before shutting off the faucet and drying his hands. When he left the bathroom, he realized that Noelle wasn’t in the hallway anymore and made his way back to the living room. And when he did, Calum couldn’t help the way he froze when his eyes somehow, almost immediately, landed on Noelle.

She was standing by the window talking to Michael and their friend Dominique, and Calum’s adam’s apple bobbed in his throat at the sight of her wearing his jacket. Her short and slimmer figure had the jacket practically enveloping her, the sleeves too long and shoulders hanging off hers. But what really had Calum taking in a sharp breath was the fact that the jacket was so long on Noelle that it made it seem like, zipped up, it was all she was wearing. Her legs looked even more appealing than they already did. The jacket was like a fucking dress Calum had the sudden urge to rip right off of her.

She should not be looking as good as she does in his jacket.

Calum huffed. He shouldn’t have thrown away his drink.

tags: @aphroditebeautyshit @modelukes @cartiercalum @candidcalum @tothemoonmikey @perfectlycake @cakestan @lukesback @polarizehood @luke2k18 @vaporlewk @biggestslutforcalum @kinkycorbyn @nostalgia-luke @captain-what-is-going-on @hoodstations @calumamore

[fyeahwonderbat]

In the Middle of a Broken Constellation - PT. 13

Pairing: WonderBat (Wonder Woman x Batman) Rating: T / 14A Universe: N/A - Reader’s Choice Previous Chapter: <- Chapter 12

Diana didn’t mean to slam her apartment door when she returned home that evening, but she was just too irritated to care about the strength she used to close it.

“Whoa!” came a startled yelp from the kitchen. She shot her blue-eyed glare across the hall, only to find a nervous Jason preparing dinner at the stove, a sizzling pan in one hand and a spatula in the other.

And an adorable apron with frills making him look the part of the perfect homemaker.

It was shocking enough to smooth out her temper just enough to smile. “Sorry,” she mumbled. After a deep breath and the removal of her emergency black flats, Diana entered the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “I didn’t know you’d be home.”

“Where else would I be? I haven’t heard about any leads from you or the League, it’s not dark enough for criminals to be roaming the streets yet, and I was getting hungry.” Jason explained, covering all of his bases to justify his time at home.

Except for one, which Diana decided to bring up for him. “Nightwing wouldn’t let you join him and Huntress?”

Surprisingly, an honest scoff was his answer. “Nope.”

She did her best not to giggle as she reached into the fridge for her water filter and bring it with her over to the cupboard. While taking a glass off of the shelf, she listened to the sound of the meal being prepared and felt her stomach grumble. When she caught the scent of it, a second grumble shook her body. “So what are we having?” asked a famished Diana.

Proudly, Jason announced. “I’m making my world renowned burgers.”

“How is it ‘world famous’?” Diana inquired as she took her first sip of water all day.

“Because I’ve had to cook for myself many times while traveling from place to place, so I’ve made this particular recipe while I was all over the world.” Was his half-witted explanation. It immediately occurred to her that she could – and rightfully should – correct his understanding what ‘world renowned’ meant, but it didn’t seem like it would be worth the effort after the day she had had. Not only that, but the food did smell particularly delicious and she didn’t want to risk having her portion revoked.

Conceding to his logic, Diana put her cup down on the counter and headed towards her bedroom. “Did any of my belongings arrive today?”

“No, sorry.” He yelled down the hall after her, his sympathy genuine. Sighing to herself, Diana entered her bedroom and looked at the barren space. The hardwood beams that caught the light of the street gleamed with a rather pale glow, making the entire space feel all the more hollow. There was no bed for her to sleep on until it was delivered next week, and there were no dressers or night stands for her belongings until next weekend; she felt like she was on a sting operation rather than integrating into Gotham City, when her new home looked as barren as it did. Despite knowing that all of her possessions would be set up for her in a matter of days, she couldn’t feel settled in until she could see herself all over her new bedroom.

It wasn’t the first time she had to sleep on a cold floor though, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.

She decided to move beyond her self-pity and open up her carry-on bags that she had placed in her closet. Whenever she traveled to the States, she always packed extra outfits in case she ever lost her suitcase during the trip, so she was absolutely prepared to dress down into her pajamas. She changed into her satin set of a button up shirt and shorts within a few minutes and exited her room with a new determined attitude.

The scent of beef seemed farther away than it had before, and Diana realized that Jason had brought their meals into the living room. Her slipper-wearing feet carried her down the hallway until she spotted a rather surprising set up for their dinner. “Oh, you found us a table?” Her question merely stated the obvious, but she was actually impressed. It was simply a foldable surface that he had placed near their window, but the matching pair of chairs meant that they actually had somewhere formal to sit and eat until everything else she owned arrived.

Jason was laying down their plates while answering her, rather focused on the table setting looking just right as he refused to look her way until he was finished with it. “It’s not much, but yeah. I didn’t think we’d want to eat on the floor when we have our own place. It’s kind of cramped, but it’s a table.”

Diana couldn’t argue with him there. “It’s a great table,” she praised him earnestly while walking the expanse of the long living room. She reached her seat and made sure she looked him in the eyes as she added, “Thank you.”

Jason nodded in acknowledgement of her words before sitting down and digging in.

For a moment, it seemed rather calm in her apartment. Her roommate had made her dinner so she didn’t need to cook as soon as she got home, the sun hadn’t set yet on the summery day in Gotham City, and there wasn’t a single police car or ambulance siren wailing off in the distance.

“Oh,” a thought struck her just before she picked up her burger. “Did you see me on the news?”

Jason quirked a brow while his mouth was completely stuffed. “No? We don’t have cable, and I was finding us this table.” Somehow, she understood what he was saying through the massive bites of food he was shoveling down.

Maybe it was because she was able to understand animals…

She decided to take a bite of her own dinner, chew it properly and swallow before she filled him in on everything he had missed today. “I was locked in the isolation ward at the hospital with the people who had been turned into sludge monsters.”

“You WHAT!?” Jason exclaimed, firing bits of food at her unintentionally.

Diana ripped her napkin off of the table and dabbed at her face, brows furrowed ever so slightly. “I went there today on behalf of the Wayne Foundation, and somehow, I was locked in there with about fifty people who had been transformed by the sludge. I couldn’t fight them or escape without giving away that I’m Wonder Woman, so I had to just survive until Superman showed up and rescued me.”

For a moment or two, Jason couldn’t speak. The story she had told him was running through his mind and his mental process of digesting her words showed on his face plainly. So startled was he, he put his world famous burger down and invested himself entirely in her recap of her day. “How the hell do you get locked in an isolation ward at a hospital?”

“That’s what I’d like to know, and it’s just another thing added to our list of mysteries to solve.” Grumbled Diana as she spoke her realization aloud. It felt to her as though their mission to save Bruce was becoming more and more complicated without leading to any answers, and her patience was wearing thin, especially after her ordeal at Gotham General on her first day on the job.

“Is that why you were so angry when you came home?” Jason questioned her gently. Taking a rather hefty bite of her dinner, Diana simply nodded as she chewed.

“Well, we knew this wasn’t going to be easy when we started out,” he tried to pacify her with reason. “We were all coming into this thing with Bruce a month late. Yeah, it sucks that we keep unearthing more problems than solutions. But I think we’ve all realized by now that rushing into things isn’t going to work. The sludge is contained, Bruce is functioning normally – or what it appears to be his new version of normal – and we pretty much have a superhero army on the case.”

Diana was ready to fire off a retort the moment he started listing their different tasks. “We know that the sludge isn’t contained because Aquaman and the Flash were last seen fighting off a new version of it, and we haven’t heard from them since. Should we send someone to check on them? Should we try to contact Atlantis? I don’t know!”

“Diana…”

His attempt to counter her logic only urged her onwards. “Bruce isn’t normal because we know he has some kind of cognitive impairment, but we don’t know what it is! I am spending the day with him tomorrow, and I can try to scan him again, and hopefully Cyborg can determine what’s wrong with him. Meanwhile, we have roughly fifty people in Gotham General who are infected with this sludge that has no cure, along with the people in Metropolis and the people in Central City. Superman is dividing his time between Metropolis and Gotham to help us find out as much information as we can, but Central City is still unprotected while the Flash is missing.

“We think Oracle has been consumed by the sludge, we think Vicki Vale might have been too, and all of those innocent people are left suffering in those mindless, violent sludge monster bodies until we can try to find a cure. But we don’t have any ethical procedures put in place because we don’t know anything about this substances. I can’t ask Cyborg to touch it though or we could lose him too! This entire situation is absolutely maddening! And I’m sitting here, in an empty apartment, trying to move my life from Paris to Gotham, when I should have just taken an extended leave from work and… and…”

She couldn’t think of what her alternative would have led her to do, and it resulted in a rather heavy silence in the middle of their conversation. The absurdity of her day finally caught up with her and she couldn’t stop herself from venting to the nearest crime-fighting human being. The longer she spoke, the more embarrassed she felt about her outburst, creating a rather petulant rant she hadn’t expected. It was true that she felt overwhelmed by all that was going on, lost in terms of what options she had, disappointed that no results had been yielded after putting forth a plan that involved the Justice League.

For the first time in a very long time, she felt anxious when she realized that she had absolutely no control over anything going on in her life.

That feeling of disappointment in herself doubled in size when Jason got up from the table suddenly. “Jason,” she called to him, ready to apologize. However, all he intended to do was retrieve his home that was plugged into a charger in the wall, then he returned to his seat while unlocking his device. Then, a question spilled out of her against her will. “You have a phone?” He didn’t look up at her as he kept his fingers busy. “It doesn’t have service. I found it in the garbage once while I was in Canada and it was in perfect condition. I just hobo off of other people’s Wi-Fi to watch videos online or type up encrypted notes for myself when I’m working on something.”

“Oh.” Was all she could think of to say.

He glanced at her over the top of his device, then showed her a pale white screen, with only the words ‘Moving In: Checklist’ written across the top. When she didn’t react, he clarified his intention slowly, “That’s what we’ll call this mission.”

Still uncertain about the meaning of his actions, Diana simply replied with a similarly paced, “Okay.”

An unimpressed look crossed his face, but Jason recovered and began typing away, moving on without her. “So we have you, me, Cyborg, Superman, Aquaman and the Flash on the case, right?”

Diana nodded. “We also have Nightwing and Huntress, and possibly some more allies from my side.”

That last comment of hers caused him to lift his head up. “Your side?” He paraphrased her, one brow arched high on his forehead.

“I sent for help from the Amazons, and asked Donna and Cassandra if they’d help, should we need them. Even though I haven’t heard back from anyone, I wouldn’t count them out entirely.”

“Well, I’m only going to include who we have with us now,” Jason stated, rather efficient about his note-making. “If we break this list down person by person, what is everyone doing? Which mission are they apart of?”

Diana sat up straight and counted each person on her fingers as she tried to figure everything out. “I’m working at the Wayne Foundation to guard Bruce from any other possible attacks, and to make sure his condition doesn’t worsen.”

“And to see if you can scan him so we can figure out what the hell happened to him.” Jason tacked on.

Diana let him add that to her to-do list, but didn’t wait very long to carry on with her rundown. “Cyborg is trying to analyze the sludge back at Headquarters, though he knows he can’t touch it. Once I scan Bruce, he’ll analyze that information too. He’s essentially filling in for Oracle now that we know she’s been consumed by the sludge.”

Across the table, Jason’s body twitched momentarily. He continued on typing, never looking away from the screen, piping up rather softly to ask, “So you think she’s gone, or you know?”

One second too late, Diana realized that she had been rather crude in relaying that information to Jason. There was no doubt that they were friends, given that they both worked for the Batman at one point or another. Her tone was a tad guarded when she responded to him. “According to Clark, she’s been gone just as long as Bruce has.”

“Well, I’ll add a visit to her place onto my to-do list,” Jason promised, his voice as rigid as his expression. “Speaking of Superman, what’s he up to?”

“He told me he wants to hunt down Vicki Vale, see what leads she had. He thinks she’s disappeared, that someone thought she was getting too close to the mystery of the sludge and took her down before she found anything.”

“Dammit, this could have so many more layers than we realize,” Jason cursed and bit his lip as he typed away furiously on his phone. He was beginning to empathetically understand her frustrations from earlier, making her feel much less ashamed of her whining. “Either this is just one bad dude or there could be a bunch of people in on this. They’re taking out reporters, they’re infecting cities…” “And then creating a single sludge monster to appear off the coast of Maine just to take away the Flash and Aquaman.”

“Do we know they’re missing?” Instantaneously, Jason shot his head up, staring her down from across the table. He was absolutely determined to only deal in facts, as evident in his claim to visit Barbara’s house. She wasn’t any different, however, Diana found it a tad upsetting that he felt the need to question her about what she and Cyborg had already agreed upon.

Crossing her arms over her chest, Diana stood her ground when she addressed his subtle disbelief. “They’re officially MIA. They went to handle the monster and haven’t been heard from since. Their Comms are dead, and we can’t confirm if they are alive or dead.” The blunt way in which she had to speak to him was rather painful, but she handled herself with poise to avoid another bout of volatility.

He didn’t question her when she stood up to him in such a way. Instead, he approached the situation from another angle, “Do we have plans for a rescue mission?”

That question deflated her. “No, we don’t. Given how thin our resources are already, I don’t have anyone else to spare. We need to contact someone from Atlantis if we are going to search for them, since the fight they had with a new version of the sludge monster was over water.”

“Why don’t we do it?” Jason suggested, his tone flippant, like it was the simplest and most effective idea he’d ever had in his life.

Quizzical, Diana frowned at him. “Do what?”

Jason answered with an overtly cheeky grin. “I’m bored, we’ve got no plans for the night. Let’s go search for them.”

“Jason,” she prepared herself mentally for the conversation that was sure to ensue before she rebuffed his idea, “We can’t breathe underwater the way an Atlantean can. We’d have no way to search for them aside from flying Bruce’s plane over the ocean and hoping to spot something. It’s unrealistic.”

That reply did not appear to satisfy his curiosity, nor his supposed boredom. Holding his phone in one hand and following the rhythm of his answer with the other, he bit back, “But we aren’t going to find them if don’t do anything at all. What, you just want to leave them out there?”

“No!” Argued the incredibly offended Amazon, her combative instincts making her rise out of her seat. “It’d be foolish to travel all the way out there with no really plan on how to locate them. Our only plan is to talk to an Atlantean—”

Jason stood as well, invigorated. “Right! So let’s do that.”

“—but he never gave us a way to do that. We can go to Headquarters and check.”

“Then let’s go!” Again, Jason was prepared to leave the apartment and travel to the JLA Headquarters at a moment’s notice.

His eagerness was becoming more of a nuisance, steadily declining in endearment. Diana nearly shouted, “Then what happens if we can’t contact them, and you still want to go out there? What do we do if you and I are taken away as well? What happens to Bruce, to Alfred, to all of the people infected and any future victims if we leave Superman and Cyborg to handle everything on their own? We can’t just run into something like this without a plan.”

Jason’s responses was already on the tip of his tongue by the time she finished her last question, but instead of hearing his reply, someone else spoke in place of him. “Wow, I never would have guessed that I’d find you like this.”

The window had become her knew doorway, Diana thought, as she stared up into the eyes of her latest intruder. It was about time that someone from ‘her side’ arrived to help them defeat this evil that had infiltrated the Justice League’s livelihoods. She just didn’t expect it to be like this…

((Who could it be!? It was super important I organized the mission records for both Diana and you, my beautiful readers. There's a lot going on and the different plot lines need to be spelled out before me dive into the romance- I mean, the friendship of Diana and Bruce. Hope you enjoyed this fun chapter amidst the serious tones of the last one, and hope you return next week to see who our guest is! Also, I have my own original story now available on the Radish ficiton app (pink logo with a white 'R' in the middle). It's a free app where I was invited to write original content, and I have my first series out called "The Aeternum Series: Book One". If you're into Greek mythology or magic or romance that's both sweet and sexy, please check it out! You can also learn more about it by following my social media accounts JenAnneGam. Thanks so much! ~ Maiden))

[glowingjunmyeon]

Lost and Found (an EXO fanfic) - ch.20

Idol!AU

Pairing: Xiumin x Reader

Warning: Language

Status: Ongoing

Summary: Marion’s life was going perfectly well before it had fell apart. She had moved out from her family’s house to New York City almost a year ago to attend her dream college. She had gotten a small job and had a great group of friends to keep her happy. Then everything went downhill the moment she found out that her father had died. What made it worse was the fact that her father’s bank account was mysteriously empty, leaving her and her family completely broke. Marion suddenly didn’t have any time to go to college anymore or even grieve her father’s death as she thrown into working multiple jobs to support her family. Her happy college days were gone, instead replaced with working at a Chicken restaurant during the day and serving people drinks at a bar by night. It wasn’t until a rather handsome man walks through the Bar doors that lightens things up in her life. He’s attractive, charming and likable-everything a girl would want in a man-until he does something that leaves her never wanting to see him again…but he still wants to see her.

Sometimes you live with memories that you wish you could forget, but not always regret.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23

“Why are you walking so…carefully?” Jasmine asked, while looking at Marion from behind the front counter of The Chirping Chicken.

Marion ignored her question and continued sweeping the floor slowly.

“You still haven’t told me why you took a day off yesterday.” Jasmine said, with a raised brow.

Marion sighed, looking over at Jasmine, “You really want to know?”

“Hell yeah, girl.”

“Minseok and I did it.”

“You have to tell me everything.” Baekhyun said, with a glimmer in his eyes as he grinned.

Minseok shook his head, “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

“How was it?” Baekhyun inquired, his eyes watching Minseok with great preciseness.

“It was…really…good.” Marion admitted slowly, as ran a hand through her hair. “It hurt in the beginning but…I get it now.”

“I knew you would, girl! It always hurts in the beginning but then it fades into the juicy stuff later.” Jasmine said, while wriggling her eyebrows.

Marion face palmed herself.

“Did she like it?” Baekhyun asked.

Minseok looked thoughtful for a moment before nodding, “Yeah…she’s not the type of person to keep continuing something she doesn’t like.” He frowned slightly, “She was kind of sore this morning though.”

“That means you did well, Minseok!” Baekhyun laughed, shaking his head as Minseok glared at him.

“The real question is if you think you would wanna do it again? Hmm?” Jasmine pressed.

Marion held her hand up although she was smiling, “I don’t want to think about that right now. Thank you, I’m sore enough.”

“Girl, you know you want it.” Jasmine said, while laughing.

“So now you’re going to have to wait til next week then!” Baekhyun said, with a cheeky grin.

Minseok stopped spinning on his spinning chair to look at him. Baekhyun held up the peace sign while tilting his head, “Ya know-for round 2! Don’t forget to give me weekly updates!”

Minseok pointed at the door, “Get out.”

Jasmine shrugged casually, “You know I actually wanted to ask you bout something.”

Marion looked over at her, “Sure, what?”

“What do you think about Kyungsoo?”

Marion was stunned, “Woa-you actually said his name right this time.” She shook her head, “Oh-I told you already, he’s a great guy. Yeah-maybe in the beginning he’s a little closed off but once you get to know em-he’s real sweet.”

Jasmine looked at Marion curiously, “If he’s so chill then why didn’t you fall for him?”

Marion shifted, chewing the question in her mind as she looked at Jasmine curiously, “I don’t know, actually. It just never came to that, I guess. I never really thought of him as my partner in that way-he always just seemed like a…a friend. I’m sure he would say the same too because all I ever got were friend vibes from him.”

“But if you hadn’t…if he hadn’t given you friend vibes do you think you would’ve dated him?” Jasmine asked.

Marion shrugged, “Don’t know since I’m happily dating one of his friends right now.”

Jasmine chuckled, “Right.”

Marion was sitting down at one of the tables in the Chirping Chicken. Her woolen hat, cream colored trench coat and plaid scarf on. She leaned back in her seat, sighing, before continuing to scroll down her phone. Her shift had ended and she waiting for Minseok to pick her up. Jasmine stood behind the counter, watching her even though she could’ve been assisting the other chefs in the back. Jasmine was about to say something to Marion until the bell chimed as someone had just opened the door.

Jasmine’s hand instinctively went over to the laminated menus but then removed her hand when she realized it was Minseok. Minseok smiled at her and she returned it. He turned his head to look at Marion, the smile still on his face as he brushed his hand through his hair to try dust off the snowflakes.

Marion stood up, raising a brow, “Did you forget your hat?”

Minseok took a step, standing directly in front of her, “I thought I lost it but-“ He reached his hand out and plucked her hat from her head. “Apparently not.”

Marion smiled, slyly, placing her hand over her head to try fix her own hair, “Hey-you gave that to me, remember?”

He made a thoughtful expression before slipping on his hat, “Nope, sorry-“

She punched him playfully on the chest and he grinned. Minseok glanced at Jasmine-who quickly looked down and pretended to be writing something on one of the menus. He looked back at Marion before slipping his hand around her chin and pulling her up to make her lips meet his. Marion placed her hand on his shoulder and smiled into the kiss before pulling away.

His uniquely shaped eyes looked intently into hers, “Where do you want to go? It’s cold outside bu-“

She suddenly placed her finger on his lips, “Is Suho still mad at you?” she asked, her voice calm.

His shoulders sagged, “Yeah…he is. He’s not talking to me.”

Marion looked thoughtful for a second, “Wait-what’s that thing he likes? That white tiger stuffed toy?”

Minseok spoke through her finger on his lip, “You mean Suhorang?”

Marion dropped her hand, “Is that what it’s called?”

Minseok shook his head, “Yeah-he loves those things. Didn’t you see how many of them he had stuffed in that one drawer?”

Marion nodded, grinning, “Yeah, but what’s the problem with getting him one more?”

Minseok blinked, “No-“

Marion shook her head, “Why not? You said he loves them-wouldn’t he be happy if we got him another one?”

Minseok made a face before looking out the large glass window at the snow delicately falling as the sky was slowly darkening, “Ah-I don’t know. Where could we even find one here anyway?”

Marion held onto his sleeve, “I saw one at this toy shop nearby-and it reminded me of him but I didn’t pick it up because I knew he had so many already. But this one is different than the other ones he owns.”

Minseok frowned, “How?”

“This one comes with stickers! I saw a sheet of stickers right next to it as a bonus deal or something.” She said, her eyes alive.

Minseok ran a hand over his face, “You know I once told that I would never buy him one of those.”

“That makes it even better-it’ll show that you care enough about him to even go back on your word.” She said, convincingly.

He sighed, “How would I even give it to him? He won’t let me go in his room.”

Marion frowned, “Ah-dammit…then maybe…maybe I could give it to him from you. He’s just mad at you-not me right? He was talking to me just fine when I was there yesterday for lunch.”

“Really?” he said, his eyes wide.

“Yeah-dummy, you were there. Did you forget?” she asked, laughing slightly as she gave his head a firm pat.

His lips formed an O. “Oh yeahhhhh.” He paused, thinking it over, “I guess that’s not so bad.”

“Yeah, my ideas are never bad.” Marion stated.

He squinted, before reaching his hands out to tickle her. “Minseok!” she yelled out between her laughter as she tried to push his arms away. He was laughing as well.

Jasmine’s eyes suddenly flitted to the door of the Chirping Chicken as the bell had just chimed. She froze when she saw Kyungsoo enter, his eyes met hers smiling genuinely before turning his head to hear where the fit of laughter was coming from. His smile suddenly slipped away as he suddenly became rooted to his spot.

Minseok stopped tickling her two seconds after the bell from the door had chimed. Marion punched him on the chest, “Seriously?” she scolded, while smiling slightly but trying to be mad.

Minseok turned to see who had entered and his eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw Kyungsoo. “Hey! Kyungsoo-what are you doing here, man?” He said, genuinely surprised before smiling and walking over to pat his shoulder friendlily.

Kyungsoo stood there straight-faced, “I was just in the mood for some fried chicken.”

Marion walked over to stand beside Minseok, “Hey-it’s good to see you again.” She said, a smile slipping onto her lips as she saw him.

He hesitantly returned her smile.

“What-did you just come back from the studio?” Minseok asked.

Kyungsoo nodded, “Yeah-now all we need is Baekhyun to sing the last lyric and that song will be done.”

Minseok’s eyes lit up, “That’s great!”

Kyungsoo’s eyes went to Marion’s coat, “Are you guys heading out?”

Minseok looked over at Marion with a small smile, “Yeah-we were just going to go where again?”

Marion replied, “The toy store.”

Kyungsoo raised his brows. Minseok whispered in Kyungsoo’s ear, “Don’t ask.”

She squinted as she overheard and smacked Minseok’s arm, “He’s going to be grateful for me later if what I’m planning works out.”

Minseok dropped his hand from Kyungsoo’s shoulder and slipped his hand into Marion’s, “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Marion rolled her eyes. Minseok pulled her closer before waving to Kyungsoo, “We’ll get going now. Enjoy your chicken.”

Minseok pushed open the door as Marion turned to say, “Bye, Kyungsoo! Bye, Jas!”

Jasmine waved her goodbye, watching her and Minseok leave the restaurant hand in hand. Jasmine walked over to Kyungsoo who looked stiff and expressionless. Even though Kyungsoo knew that they were together he hadn’t seen them together as often. Jasmine stood in front of Kyungsoo, “Kyungsoo-you okay?” Jasmine asked.

Kyungsoo looked away, “I’m fine.” His voice ever so quiet.

Jasmine shook her head, “You’re not fine. I’ve never heard you talk this quietly.”

“Then why did you ask?!” He snapped.

She blinked, taking a step back.

He shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut before looking down as he ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry-I didn’t mean that-I-I should go.” He muttered.

Jasmine watched him turn around and walk towards the door. But just before he could push it open she ran towards him, placing her hand firmly on his shoulder and spun him around before pulling him into a hug. They stood there, just like that, for a long moment before he returned her hug. He slipped his arms around her waist and held her closer, letting his head fall onto her shoulder. He squeezed her tightly, and let his eyes close. He needed this hug more than she knew.

“What do you think about this?” Baekhyun asked, before walking out of his closet. He held up a black bomber jacket that had thin barely perceptible grey strips running along it.

Marion looked up from her seat on Baekhyun’s desk. There wasn’t much on his desk, other than the mini glasses holder that held up a variety of brand name glasses. She looked at the bomber jacket before saying, “That’s actually pretty nice. I just never really understood how to pull off a bomber jacket.”

Baekhyun ran his fingers over his smooth chin before looking at the bomber jacket again-which he had now thrown down on his bed. “Oh-that’s not hard. I just wore it over a black turtle neck and faded blue ripped jeans. A belt. My monochrome black Nike Air Huaraches. And…,”

He looked thoughtful as he looked over at Marion. “I think I even wore it with those glasses in your hand.”

Marion looked down at her hand before holding up the up the black circle rimmed, clear glasses. “You mean these Harry Potter glasses?”

Baekhyun nodded, “Yeah-or maybe I didn’t wear those…maybe I just wore a black cap.” He mumbled off as he tried to remember.

Chen looked up from his laptop-while sitting criss-crossed on Baekhyun’s bed-at the mention of Harry Potter. His alert eyes landed on the glasses in her hand, “Oh yeah-those. I wore those once to a Halloween Party. Guess who I was trying to be?”

Marion and Chen said it at the same time, “Harry Potter.”

Marion chuckled while Chen just smiled. Chen watched her slip the glasses on before pointing at her and giggling boyishly, “Ha-now you look like Harry Potter too!”

Marion laughed before taking the glasses off. Baekhyun frowned, “Those are not Harry Potter glasses. Those are fashion glasses. From Sunglass’s Hut!”

Before any of them could reply Minseok walked in with Suho’s arm thrown around his shoulder. Minseok’s eyes landed on the pile of clothes that was in the middle of Baekhyun’s closet-he frowned deeply-before his eyes met Marion’s. “Oh there you are!”

Suho patted Minseok’s back before smiling with mischief, “Yea-he was going crazy looking for you.”

Minseok rolled his eyes, “No, I wasn’t.”

Suho smiled playfully before releasing Minseok’s shoulder and began to wander around Baekhyun’s room, pulling open the curtains fully to let more sunlight stream through. Despite today beautiful sunny weather, it was still below 40 degrees Fahrenheit in New York City.

Baekhyun spoke while searching through his closet, “Yeah-I hope you don’t mind me stealing your girl for a minute. Don’t worry-I’ll try not to make her fall in love with me too fast.”

Minseok chuckled before leaning against the door frame, “You wish.”

Suho and Chen grinned at each other from across the room before saying in perfect synchronization, “OOOOOOOOOoooooOOOOOOO.”

Marion rolled her eyes before placing the glasses back on Baekhyun’s glasses stand. She looked at Baekhyun, “What did you call me here for though?” she asked.

Baekhyun poked his head out his closet, “Did you forget-you were helping me choose out which clothes to give to my brother since he said he wanted me to bring him clothes from New York, and since we’re going back to Kor-“

Minseok suddenly starting coughing. He started coughing so badly that his body racked and he almost fell forward. Marion frowned at the suddenness of it and looked at him with concern, her mouth forming the words that Chen had said, just a millisecond before her, “You okay?” Chen asked.

Minseok patted his chest and nodded.

Marion picked up her water bottle from Baekhyun’s desk. “Do you want some water?” she asked.

He shook his head, raking his hand through his jet black hair, “It’s okay-I’m fine now. I think my throat just got dry for a second.”

Marion walked over to him and handed him her water bottle anyway. “Just drink it. You don’t want it to get worse and get an actual sore throat or something.”

He took the bottle and smiled slightly, wriggling his brows at her, “Concerned for me now?” he murmured, so just she could hear.

She rolled her eyes before he flashed her a smile and opened her water bottle and drank from it. She watched him chug down half of it with a smug but yet astonished smile on her lips until her phone buzzed in her pocket. She looked down at the text and said, “Oh!”

Minseok immediately looked down at her, “What?”

Marion raised her head, hastily tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear, “Jasmine just texted me. Remember when I told you that we were planning on having that shopping day? That’s today. I just didn’t know that she would be there already. I gotta go.”

Minseok watched her walk back over to Baekhyun’s desk to retrieve her purse.

Baekhyun walked out from his closet, dumping several pairs of shoes onto a pile in middle of the floor. He raised a brow, “You’re leaving already?”

She nodded at him and Baekhyun frowned. “Whyyyy?”

Chen didn’t remove his eyes from the computer as he spoke, “She’s got a shopping date with her friend.”

Baekhyun’s eyes lit up, “Ooh! Can I go?”

Suho looked at him in utter disbelief before motioning towards the piles of clothes that were spread out through Baekhyun’s room, “What more do you need!?”

Baekhyun pouted his lips, “You always need more!”

Marion furrowed her brows as she looked around the room, “Where’s my coat?”

Chen looked up from his laptop, “You left it in the kitchen-on the chair. I saw it.”

Marion snapped her fingers as she remembered, “Oh yeah-thanks.”

Chen smiled, “No problem.”

Just as she walked through the doorway-past Minseok-he grasped her wrist. She looked up at him, her eyes wide and curious.

Minseok spoke softly, “You need a ride?”

Marion shook her head, “It’s fine. I’ll use a taxi.”

Minseok raised a brow, “You sure?”

She smiled slightly before leaning up to press her lips gently against his. After a couple seconds, She pulled away, “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

This time he leaned down and pecked her lips, “Alright. Bye.”

She patted his shoulder, “Bye.” She said, before zipping out the door.

Baekhyun yelled, belatedly, “BYEEE!”

They heard the slight whirr of the elevator doors closing before it stopped-signaling that she had just left. Minseok muttered, “She already left…idiot.”

Baekhyun furrowed his brows, pointing his finger accusingly, “I heard that!”

Suho suddenly strode across the room towards Minseok, “You didn’t tell her?!”

Minseok’s eyes were suddenly wide, “What?”

Suho raised a brow, “I caught that you know-you coughed just when Baekhyun was about to say that we were leaving for Korea in 2 weeks.”

Chen gasped as he realized. “Woa-I didn’t even catch that.” He murmured, amazed.

Baekhyun looked up from the shirt he was holding, “Catch what?”

Minseok flushed, itching the back of his neck, speaking unsurely, “I just-I don’t know how to tell her.”

Baekhyun dropped the shirt in his hand, “Tell her what?!”

Suho folded his arms, “It’s going to be hard but you are going to have to tell her. She needs to know.” He said, calmly.

Minseok closed his eyes before running his hands through his hair, “Yeah…I know.”

Suho patted Minseok’s shoulder, “You got this, bro.”

Baekhyun’s eyes widened, “Is anyone going to tell me wh-“

Chen threw his hands up, “YA-He didn’t tell Marion that we’re leaving back to South Korea next week.”

“Two weeks.” Suho corrected.

Chen pouted before frowning, “Same thing.”

Suddenly Baekhyun’s hands were on Minseok’s shoulders, “YA-you didn’t tell her?! I thought you told her already!”

Minseok brushed off Baekhyun’s hands, “Yeah-well-I didn’t.”

Chen shook his head, “Tsk-tsk. That ain’t right, bro. We’ve known about our deadline for too long for you not to have told her already.”

Minseok looked at Chen for a moment before squinting, “Can you all stop making me feel worse for a second?”

“No.” said Suho, Chen and Baekhyun simultaneously.

Minseok sighed before running his hand over his face, “It’s harder than it sounds-okay?”

Suho pulled out Baekhyun’s stool and sat on it, “Does she think that you are going to stay here permanently?”

Minseok itched the back of his head, “Yeah-I think so.”

Baekhyun hit Minseok’s shoulder and Minseok spun around to face him, “What was that for?!”

Baekhyun placed his hands on his hips as he shook his head, “You’re so mean! You should’ve told her the moment we finished our album! What kind of boyfriend are you?” he whined the last question.

Minseok eye’s widened defensively, “If you had a girlfr-“

Baekhyun wriggled his eyebrows, “Who says I don’t?”

Chen’s eyebrows flew up, “Wait-you and Taeyeon are back together?”

Baekhyun sighed, “Do you have to bring her up right now?”

Suho folded his arms as he sat on the stool, “How could they be back together? He hasn’t talked to her in months.”

Chen shook his head, “No! He just talked with her last week!”

Suho’s head turned quickly to look at Baek, “Wait-really?”

Baekhyun looked flustered, “What-no-I mean-“ He placed his hands on his hips before furrowing his brows at Suho, “Look who’s talking about relationships-IRENE!”

Chen frowned, “Irene? Don’t you mean Jisoo?”

Suho suddenly threw his hands up in the air, “OK-OK-Can we please focus on the main problem here?”

Baek squinted, “Oh so now you want to focus.”

Suho folded his arms, “Minseok, how do you plan on telling Marion that your leaving?”

When there was no reply all the boys turned to look at the doorframe that Minseok had been leaning against before, only to find no one there.

“Minseok?” Baekhyun asked, cluelessly.

Chen blinked, “Where’d he go?”

Suho sighed, “Great.”

Minseok ran up the stairs of the rather shabby apartment building. He stopped running when he made it to her floor, slipping his hand in his pocket to get the key.

“She’s not here yet.”

Minseok froze before turning around slowly to see an older man-probably late 40s or so, with brown hair that was greying with age. Through the ragged sweater the man was wearing Minseok noticed the man’s hands and neck were covered in tattoos. It took Minseok a moment-but he finally recognized the guy-it was Marion’s Uncle. Uncle Calvin.

Uncle Calvin waved his hand, “Oh-don’t look at me like that. I’ve been waiting here for bout’ an hour and she still hasn’t shown up yet. Bet ya don’t know where she is either-do ya?”

Minseok didn’t get the chance to reply when Calvin suddenly snapped his fingers, “Oh wait-I remember you? You’re that guy-that asshole that helped Marion kick me out of the hospital.”

Minseok clenched his jaws, “That’s me.”

Uncle Calvin suddenly furrowed his brows and grabbed Minseok’s collar. His breath reeked of alcohol and smoke as he spoke, “You stay away from my niece you fucking bastard. You usin’ my niece for her pretty little looks-I’ll cut you-“

Minseok suddenly grabbed the old man and shoved him off of him straight into the wall. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he yelled, furiously.

Uncle Calvin was heaving heavy breathes as he leaned against the wall before shaking his head, he waved his hand dismissively and spoke as if out of breath, “Oh-man. I’m sorry-I ain’t-I didn’t-“ He shook his head, “I ain’t mean that, son. I just really need to talk to my niece.”

Minseok scowled. He had never gotten the chance to ask Marion in detail why she disliked her uncle but he just knew that he had betrayed her family of some sort. That was more than Minseok needed to already start disliking this man.

“What the hell do you want from Marion?” Minseok asked, sharply.

Uncle Calvin suddenly looked as if an idea passed through his eyes. The man held out his hands and spoke, calmly-suggestively, “Look-ya want me to leave Marion alone?”

Minseok furrowed his brows before nodding slowly.

Uncle Calvin nodded eagerly, “Yeah? Then give me money. Give me a couple thousand dollars and I swear I won’t come a foot near my niece agai-“

Minseok laughed dryly, “Is that what you’re here for-Money?”

Uncle Calvin nodded sadly, “Yes-money.” The man’s eyes suddenly became eager and desperate as he took a step closer to Minseok, “I need money. You don’t understand-I’ll do anything. I’ll even pay you back later if that’s what you want-“ He stepped closer, clasping his hands together.

Minseok held up a hand, interrupting sharply, “SHUT UP-just shut up and get the hell out of my face!”

Uncle Calvin scrambled back.

Minseok furrowed his brows, asking-accusingly, “Hasn’t her family given you enough money already?”

He ignored that and instead spoke more insistently, “Look-you want me to stay away from her don’t you? Why don’t you just ease some of her stress and give me some money now and act like this never happened? You’d be such a good boyfriend if you did that and I’d even give you my blessing to marry her since she ain’t got her father to give you-“

Minseok suddenly pointed down the hallway, “Get the fuck out!”

Her Uncle looked stunned, “What?”

Minseok looked at him with such a sharp intensity that the man couldn’t help but shrink back slightly. “I said…,” Minseok started, quietly. “GET THE FUCK OUT!” Minseok’s voice rang through the hallway.

Her Uncle shuffled back and starting moving down the hallway. Before he disappeared down the stairs her Uncle stopped and looked at Minseok, “You’re going to regret this, just like her Dad did.”

“What?!” Minseok said, sharply.

But her Uncle was gone.

Marion walked into her apartment with a wide smile on her face and shopping bags in her hands. She locked the door close behind herself and froze when she turned and saw Minseok-sitting eerily still on one of the stools by the countertop. From the tenseness of his frame and serious set to his mouth she could tell something was not alright. She saw that he had been zoned out but the moment his eyes went to her smiling face-his gaze softened. Her smile fell, “Minseok-whats wrong?”

Oh-um-you’re Uncle came just came back. I saw him at the door and he was here to visit you just to ask for money and might have just said something that relates him to the cause of your Dad’s death-but he was drunk so we can’t be sure if he meant what he said. Oh, and you know, I’m leaving back to South Korea in two weeks and I don’t know when I’ll be back. Minseok sighed before shaking his head and leaning his elbows on the counter and running his hands through his hair.

Marion placed her bags down gently on the ground before walking over to him. She was still in a light mood from her shopping spree with Jasmine-it was as if she didn’t want to accept the seriousness of his mood just yet. She placed her hands on his shoulders as she stood behind him. “What’s wrong?” she said, quietly.

He shook his head, moving his hands to cover his face. His voice came out muffled behind his hands, “I can’t.”

She sighed, before placing her chin on shoulder and wrapping her arms around his waist. She murmured, softly, “Why can’t we just be happy-”

He spun around in his stool to face her and she took a step back. His eyes wide as he looked at her, “You’re not happy?”

She looked down at him, “You’re not happy.”

“But I was.” He said, looking up at her intently, “Before.”

“Then what’s making you sad now?” she asked, softly.

He looked away and locked his jaws. He was still when he felt her hand touch his neck and fingers slide up in his hair.

“You make me happy.” She said, quietly-as if admitting to something she wasn’t willing to admit until now. He looked up at her as she continued, “You’ve made me the happiest I’ve ever been in a while.”

He stared up at her-something about those words made him want to carve out his heart and just give it to her. He suddenly grabbed her arm and pulled her onto his lap and grabbed the back of her head to kiss her fiercely. His kiss was filled with such lust, frustration and passion that it reminded her of how much she was loved-how much she needed. How she drove him crazy, just like he did to her.

He held her tightly in the circle of his arms, winding his arms so tightly around her as if he were planning to never let go. She cupped the sides of his face, letting him slip his tongue through her mouth as he kissed her with such fervor. His mouth pressed into hers harder as if trying to capture more of her than he already was. His hand ran down her back, so gently-despite the hardness of their kiss-that it drove her insane. She shivered-pressing herself closer to him, being in love with him was so intoxicating-each touch of his would only fill her with more desire.

His hand suddenly came to her jaw, tilting her head back so he could kiss down her mouth to her neck. She let out a moan as her legs tightened around him and her hands buried themselves deep into his hair. His lips moved against the soft skin of her neck that met her shoulder before he stopped and let her head fall onto his shoulder and held her legs tightly around himself. He stood up with her in his arms and went to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

Jasmine had to tilt her head all the way back to look at the huge, brightly lit tree in front of Rockefeller Plaza. There was no performances going on today-so there was no one but a few other passerby-ers like them. The tree looked huge and phenomenal in against the dark, cold sky of NYC and the bright light of the building behind him made it look as if the tree was glowing. The tree was covered in lights and ornaments that sparkled with color and animation. The tree felt alive.

The sounds of honking and chatter surrounded them while instrumental Christmas music flowed through from a street performance not too far behind. The smell of baked goods, candles and smoke scented the city as a breeze of icy, cold wind dusted through the air. Jasmine pulled her woolen scarf tighter around her neck.

“Here.” Kyungsoo said from beside her as he handed her the cream filled cup of Toffee Nut Latte he had ordered from Starbucks.

She looked over at him and frowned, “Why?”

He shook his head, “I can’t finish it.”

She looked back at the tree, “Why did you order a venti size, I told you to just get a tall or grande.”

“I thought I would be able to finish it.” He stated, still holding the Christmas themed red cup in her face.

She sighed before reaching out and taking the cup, “You should’ve got the Caramel Brulee latte.”

“I wanted to try one of the Christmas specials.” He said, calmly.

“That was one of the Christmas Specials.” She said, before taking a sip of the drink.

He shrugged. “Caramel’s not my favorite.”

She shook her head, “You’re insane.”

He frowned and looked at her, “You have to respect other people’s opinions.”

“That’s hard to do when the opinion is insane.”

“You can’t just call other people’s opinions insane-”

“You’re insane.”

He turned and looked at her beside him for a moment before muttering, “I give up.”

She smiled slightly before taking another sip from her drink. She felt his big eyes staring at her-and she didn’t look at him when she asked-calmly, “What is it?”

He looked down and shrugged, kicking a rock with the tip of his shoe, “I-um-“he mumbled off.

Jasmine turned and looked at him, the straw of the drink still in her mouth as she raised a brow.

His big black eyes met with her dark hazel ones. “I’m leaving to South Korea in a few weeks.”

She stayed silent as she looked at him-something about his eyes made her feel as if he was going to continue.

“And I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He said, quietly.

“So that means…you’re leaving-forever?” Jasmine said, slowly and a bit confused.

He nodded before shaking his head, “Yes-I mean no-I mean…possibly.”

She was silent, her mind churning with thoughts as she locked her jaws. She swallowed before returning her eyes back onto his. His big eyes held such an intensity that she was rendered speechless.

“To make me come back…I need to know if there will be something worthwhile for me to come back to.” He said, his deep voice rumbled as his big eyes still held her gaze.

She sucked in a sharp breath, “Wait-what?” She knew what he had said-but it just didn’t register.

He tilted his head, taking a step closer to her, “Javier is not a good guy. You need to let him go.”

She looked away from him at the tree, “We’re not together.”

Kyungsoo nodded before speaking firmly, “I know-but when he comes knocking on your door next week you really can’t open it for him. Yes, he wants you but he’s not willing to change himself to be with you.”

At her silence he only grew more firm, “I don’t care how long you’ve known him. I don’t care if he was there for you when you needed help once. I don’t care if your family wants you to be with him. If you’re not happy in the relationship then it all doesn’t matter.”

She looked back at him, her jaws tightening as she saw the strength in his big eyes that he truly meant what he said.

“You’re right-” she said, not sure why her voice was rising, “That’s why I broke up with him-but what are you trying to say?”

“What I’m trying to say is...if you wait for me I can make you happy.”