#i am showing you thin in good faith that you will not mention how messy this is

[srdonix]

2012 avengers Steve meeting the winter soldier

[you-did-well-moon]

Day6 Reaction to s/o learning their instrument while they're away

Type: Fluff, angst in Dowoon dont know what happened wasnt me

Word Count: 2.865

A/n: I took some creative freedom with why they were away but that is it. Keep in mind, I have no experience with instrument except for when I played the piano in 5th grade for like two weeks. Anyways, I hope you enjoy! - Moon

TW: small cuts, fight, second hand embarrassment

Sungjin

Sungjin was absolutely and devastatingly exhausted. His own guitar case felt like it was weighing him down tremendously, and he had a huge headache. Jae and Wonpil arguing in the back of the car was not helping in any way. It has been going on since they left the airport. He rubbed at his temples tiredly pressing his head against the cool window from his place in the passenger seat next to their manager. 

Still, he couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at his lips as he thought about seeing you, probably curled up in the couch cheeks puffed from the snack you were inhaling. The pounding in his head lightened at the cute sight he would soon get to enjoy as he played with the loose threads of his old button up shirt. 

True to Sungjin’s imagination, your form was sitting on the couch. Not true to his imagination, you were actually bent over something in your lap, lightly humming and bopping your head to the rhythm being produced by your still clumsy fingers. The guitar in your lap had gotten lighter as the days went by without your boyfriend, and in replacement of his touch, leaving your fingertips warm and tingling, it was small cuts you hadn’t bothered to bandage as it disrupted you when playing.

 You missed Sungjin an abnormal amount. The cold spot in the bed or him making weird faces at you through the mirror in the mirror when brushing your teeth. You missed all of it. With a slight tremble in your chest you started playing the chorus to “You Were beautiful”.

You were so focused on trying to get it right you didn’t notice the door closing only to startle when you slightly looked up through your lidded eyes seeing the shadow looming over the coffee table. With a small yelp of surprise you jumped immediately looking up only to find your boyfriend staring at you with wide eyes. 

His surprised expression made you shrink into yourself. You threw your head into your hands in pure embarrassment letting the guitar gently slide off your lap, hitting the floor with a soft thump. “Can you just pretend you didn’t see that I can’t believe I even tried learning all that by myself I” you cut yourself off with an un-pleased sigh shaking your head and looking at him with pleading eyes. 

Your boyfriend continued in his frozen state for about five seconds before breaking out in the biggest smile rushing around the coffee table in which you panicked trying to get away from him with a squeal, but being too slow im the excitement that was usually in a much dormant state in Sungjin. The wrinkles near the corner of his eyes deepened adoringly, and his chest shook with soft laughter while he held you close. 

There was a fond twinkle in his eye as Sungjin forgot any tiredness that clung to his bones and kissed the tips of your fingertips while maintaining eye contact. He kept your hands encased in his when scolding you for having such low faith in yourself and softly encouraging you. He would probably put little stitch band-aids on your fingertips and continue teaching you, sitting you on his lap and scolding you when you lose focus with a sharp poke at your ribs smiling when you giggled. This man just fell impossibly more in love with you.

“You shouldn’t say those things, look at you love, learning all alone and doing so well. I'm so proud. Would you rather have the elmo band-aids or the stitch band-aids… I don’t know about you but Elmo kinda creeps me out. Just five more minutes little love then you can go mug Young k with Dowoon. Don’t look at me like that! You finally have a teacher and you take him for granted. The audacity-”

Jae

Jae was a thin hair away from just ripping his hair out. He didn’t believe the kpop industry would take very kindly to him going bald, but he had come to a point where he didn’t really care about what people thought anymore. But thinking about you not being able to play with his hair anymore while he drifted off to sleep with his head on your chest severely upset him.

 Jae had gotten stuck in another limbo, stuck in the studio and in his own head desperately trying to finish any of the unfinished songs left in his computer files. He missed you so much, he eventually called it quits, deciding to go home to you, who he hadn’t seen in days.

Just the thought about seeing you energized his previously exhausted self. He never could get sick of you. Every day, every week was a new adventure, a new chapter, all with his favorite person in the world. The night sky, although beautiful, seemed to mock him, reminding him of how late it was, meaning you were most probably asleep. 

Opening the door to his apartment, he heard soft music. He briefly recognized “I Need Somebody”, and thought you were playing it from your phone. All his thoughts came to a halting stop when he saw you perched on the bed, in his shirt, playing the melody of the previously mentioned song.

You had hair falling into your eyes with your eyebrows slightly scrunched trying not to mess up and heavily focused. Jae had loudly yelled in surprise, causing you to flinch and look up shocked at the sudden surprise. When you saw it was just him, you had comically thrown your hands in the air yelling at him about how it was supposed to be a surprise. 

The irritated look on your face vanished as you went up to give him a light hug with a kiss, softly smiling at him. Meanwhile Jae, was completely out of it, lovestruck eyes while he instinctively returned your affection.

“Come Jae, you look like you haven’t slept in ages, your eyes are so sunken babe”, you had softly whispered to him, rubbing the soft skin under his eyes, the way you were always soft with him when he came back from the studio. You slept in the same bed for the first time in what had been days, Jae tightly clutching on to you.

 He may have not been completely there at the moment, but in the morning when he had time to process everything, he was a changed man. He wouldn’t stop laughing and giggling excitedly, eagerly wanting to hear everything you had learnt. He even poked fun at you when you made a mistake. But it was all lovingly as he also praised you non stop while looking at you with his messy hair and big smile next to you on the couch. He had so much inspiration now. To finish what had been left behind.

“Pop off queen who gave you this much talent, you couldn’t even tell me what bass was last time we talked, which was like a week ago. Might just make you play when I don’t feel like playing. Give you a wig and people won’t know the difference! Why are you booing me, I'm right?”

Young K

Young K’s foot tapping on the floor of the car was the only sound that filled the car aside from the soft sound of the car’s engine and tires. He was absolutely spent, having to have stayed in a different city for a show he was invited to that was filmed far away from his home. 

Far away from you. Young K could tell his manager was starting to get irritated, but Young K was already massively annoyed and too far in his own world to really care. He missed the pine scent of his sheets, and he missed you.

It was not a good combination. When he got to his place he quietly thanked the manager,  getting his bag before trying to ignore every urge telling him to run into the building and fall into his soft bed with you in his arms. When he opened the door, your keys were there, so he knew you were in the building. That thought filled him with more relief than it should have. 

He did have to admit, hearing “I smile” this early in the day was odd as you usually saved the more mellow songs for later in the night. Young K told himself he had many euphoric moments in his life, but seeing you staring at a sheet of paper with so much determination and a bass guitar in your arms came pretty close to the top.

The absolute warmth that exploded in his chest was a feeling he would not forget in a long time. He could feel his lips slightly curl up in fondness as your hands shook while your eyes wavered unsurely between your hands on the strings and the video on your laptop sitting further on the edge of the bed. Your face scrunched up before you sighed and stared dejectedly at the instrument on your lap. 

“Why so sad love?" His voice made you instantly sit up, pushing the instrument gently off your lap. You crawled to the edge of the bed where Young K had already gotten closer where he met you tenderly running his hand through your hair, and he curved his hand around the back of your head bringing your forehead to his abdomen.

He brushed his thumb over where your hairline met the sensitive skin of the back of your neck immensely enjoying being back at your side. Your hands were clutching the back of his shirt, and your simple touch brought a warm feeling to his chest. You both leaned back as Young K’s chest started to rumble with laughter “You should have waited for me, it would have been easier if I could teach you”, he softly said, pushing your hair back from your face causing you to lightly laugh.

 “I wanted to surprise you, but I didn’t get that far anyways. Can’t become a prodigy in one day I guess”. Young K smiled again, promising to himself to help you as much as he could as he put his hand fondly on top of your head.

“You’re doing so good, just move your finger up a little, you’re plucking the c chord instead of the e chord during the chorus, don’t look at me like that i’m trying to help?! I wouldn’t put you on my level, but I think you’re doing really well. I’m hungry now, what do you want? No- What do you want? I am okay with anything just tell me-”

Wonpil

Wonpil was trying his hardest not to think about you. From the way you got excited when you got to see the moon in the cloudy sky to the way you smiled when you saw the neighbor’s cat while getting the mail. 

He was happy to be on a trip with her sister, he hadn’t had much time to be with her in recent, well forever really. While you had been invited, you hadn’t been able to attend due to work. Wonpil did his best to keep his mind off you and enjoy the trip, he just hadn’t spent this long without you in a while. 

Even so, he still had a fun time with his sister and her boyfriend creating many memories. He didn’t regret it, but he was extremely happy to come back to you. Opening the door to your apartment, he dropped his suitcase by the door, an excited smile tugging at his lips as he traveled through the apartment with his arms spread knowing you would embrace him as soon as you saw him. He felt so giddy, he didn’t even notice the broken keyboard sounds ringing throughout the living space.

His smile fell in a comical way, his face morphing into one of confusion instead. He recognized a broken rendition of “Mary had a little Lamb”, and tilted his head as he opened the door to your room seeing you with really big headphones on your head staring down at the keyboard with the most offended look on your face.

 How dare this keyboard not give you its secrets! Wonpil couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his chest, not mocking you, but he just thought you were so cute. He lightly touched your shoulder causing you to jump, and the slight movement of your head caused the headphones to slide off your head. It didn’t matter much. You instantly dove into his arms, pressing the side of your face against his chest.

He felt warmth flood his chest as his hand encased the back of your head while he pressed his lips to the top, closing his eyes in bliss enjoying having you in his arms again. He leaned back from the brace as his eyes flashed with amusement and yours with slight embarrassment. He lightly laughed, eyes crinkling. He cradled your face in his hands, a teasing lilt to his voice, “What were you trying to do, hmm?” He could feel your face grow hot under his finger tips.

 “I was just trying to surprise you. I felt bad for not being able to go with you”. He shook his head, hands playfully pinching your cheeks as you whined. “You shouldn’t act that way, I understood from the beginning. It must have been hard for you. Here, come, your lovely boyfriend will make this easier for you”.

“Y/n the keys will not bite prEsS dOWn, no, no keyboards do not have to be oiled, this is a musical instrument not a mechanical vehicle. You are so cute. What am I gonna do with you? No, you can not play the keyboard with your forehead, DO NOT put your foot on the keys. I don’t care if it’s for the vine. 

Dowoon

Dowoon was beating himself up. Looking back at what happened a few hours ago made his chest tight. He couldn’t help but wince at the words both of you had thrown at each other. You had been with each other for so long, and when his lovely mother asked him when he would propose, although with good intentions, it put pressure on him.

 He was still young. He had mentioned it to you in a joking manner, but there was a misunderstanding and you thought he was blowing it off as he didn’t see a future with you. 

Somehow feelings were hurt, and the fight escalated. And Dowoon decided he was a coward because it was when you had started stuttering through your words and avoiding eye contact, he knew. He knew he had pushed you across a line that might not be able to be crossed again. 

He panicked. He was really good at doing that wasn’t he? He left. He took a bus and went to the nearest hotel he could find. There he was sitting on the edge of the too perfectly made bed with his head in his hands.

Had he just ruined his precious relationship because he was scared of what the future could or could not hold? Why did he have to run away? Why couldn’t he just stay? Most importantly, how badly had he hurt you?

 With a sigh he stood up, and he got on the bus back to your apartment. Staring at the door, the fact you were just on the other side and hurting is what pushed him to open it with the key you had given him. Opening the door, he was met with silence and darkness. Have you already gone? He walked through the apartment, hope dwindling with every step. 

Then he heard a soft thump thump thump. His heart seemed to match with it, and as he walked to his studio which held his spare drum set, he thought of what he could say to make it better. Opening the door, he saw you softly hitting the drum with one stick, as if testing the waters and humming along to “When you Love Someone”. Dowoon couldn’t fight the sad smile that broke out on his face, and the absolute warmth that filled his chest. 

Why did he ever even doubt your future with him? There was no person more perfect for him than you. He stood next to you, softly taking your hand in his and guiding your hand to the right beat, although a bit broken. When your sad eyes looked up into his, forgiving in nature but still frustrated beyond belief, he knew he could still fix things. You were you, and Dowoon was Dowoon. You always somehow found your way back to each other.  

“No no, put your hands higher on the stick, no lower, now higher...a bit lower. No, Y/n drum sticks do not belong in my throat. What do you mean I have no room to talk, I thought we were over the fight. I would marry you in this life and the next! Why are you looking at me like that? I am not cute, I am handsome and overflowing with testosterone. Oooh are those gummies?

[mochii0park]

metanoia; 01 | kth

Title: Metanoia

Pairing: Taehyung / Reader

Part of series: Waterlilies and Japanese Bridge

Genre: angst I collage!au

Pairing: student!reader x photographer!taeyhung

Word count: 4,7k

Summary: Vante, a household name among photographers became known for his minimalistic photography style that came along with his secret persona. Never showing his face on his own exhibitions fueled the public’s desire to learn more about him which skyrocketed his fame. While preparing for his next exhibition Vante went missing. Disappeared into thin air and even now a year later was never found.

Author’s note: I am very conscious of any grammar mistakes. Although I have read this chapter three times I am sure I’ve missed some so bare with me. 

On another note, I have switched the dates of the chapters for Saudade and Metanoia. Since this story got more attention compared to Sauade I’ve decided to write it before the date.

This is my first attempt at writing on this platform and I hope it will reach out to a wider range of readers and catch your interest. Any feedback is greatly appreciated.

Taglist: @ggukkieland​ @honig-und-millch​ , @deliciousdetectivestranger ,

Masterlist

Metanoia masterlist

< intro | next chapter >

You sink into the overaged draggled yellow chair, catching second-hand embarrassment at the sight before you. The boy walked about, his thrusts were not enough to keep the neon hula hoop from falling. He attempts to fumble his way out of the mess, but it was too late. The left ankle twists itself and before you know it, he hits headfirst against the wooden flooring. The professors rush towards him, medics following behind. The boy tries to pull himself up but fails his body slumping against the stage. To your left Mingi snorts, stuffing his face with popcorn amused by the scene playing out.

“I don’t mean to sound rude or whatever, but people need to search up the meaning of talent before their eyes skip to the word show.” Minnie ruckles her nose, her mouth loop sided.

“I find this highly entertaining,” Mingi speaks up, mouth full of food. He takes a sip of the cold beverage rested in his lap and shakes the mixture before swallowing.

To his left Yeonjun shudders at him, “Talent or not I would rather replay that scene than watch Mingi be a slob. It makes me want to bleach my eyes out.”

Mingi rolls his eyes ignoring Yeonjun as he pops more popcorn, oblivious to his own weird antics. Although the four of you are friends for years, Mingi managed to take you all by surprise with his uncanny behaviour.

The second act starts and suddenly you contemplate your university choice. Reasonably the overbearing staff of your university wanted the timid first years to feel welcomed hence this so-called show. In hindsight, you think a friendly party would’ve been just as good.

Halfway through the act, you feel a light tap on your shoulders, professor Kim Namjoon stands there like a sore thumb in the mass of students’ bodies. With his hovering height, freshly dyed purple hair and the rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose he was sure to stand out. He shifts his footing from one to the other foot anxiously waiting for you to follow him, few students commenting on the disruptions that his appearance caused.

You observe him for a second, accompanying him out of the theatre into the cold November air. He fumbles through his leather briefcase before fishing out a small, crumpled flyer. Opening it he shoves it into your hands while tweaking his glasses.

“I have a favour to ask you Y/N. There will be a course taking place here and I would love for you to attend it with your peculiar friends.” He says emphasising the word peculiar.

You knew that Mingi gave Namjoon the creeps even though the latter denied it.

“No.”

You push back the flyer spinning on the balls of your feet ready to join your friends.

“Y/L-…”, Namjoon groans, “Do it for your brother-in-law.”

Widening your eyes, you look at him shaking your head.” This isn’t the time to use our family relations to bribe me into a stupid course.”

“Did you even read what’s it about?”, you take the flyer from his hands skimming through it.

Photography course

Length: 10th November till 10th June

Time: Friday, 6pm -8pm

Attendance: Third years and above

Equipment not needed for the course

Your eyes pause at the date, laughing releasing itself from your chest. Surely Namjoon was kidding when suggesting this. You were in your last year which meant you would soon be flooded with work for your final project. In conclusion, there was barely enough time for you set foot out of your studies let alone attend another one of the university’s poor attempts to make a course for students to bond over.

“You understand I’m in my last year. I don’t have time to go out and have fun with my friends. How in the world did you think I would fit a whole-ass course?”

Namjoon releases a breath running a hand through his thick hair, desperation evident on his face.” I am sorry to have to do this, but I am cashing in my favour.”

You become stiff mouth agape, incoherent vowels coming out of you. It takes you a few seconds to gather your thoughts, “you promised to not cash it in. You gave me your word.”

“And you gave me yours.” Namjoon retored sassily, finger pointing at you, “I won’t tell Sunmi if you promise to do me a favour when the time comes.”

Pushing your tongue against the palate, you try to control the boiling anger.

The incident happened four years ago, back when you were still figuring out your college life. Namjoon and you were acquaintances, sharing one elective course called German Literature. Needless to say, both of you suffered greatly.

By the end of the year, you noticed your sister piqued Namjoon’s interest. Grossed out by the idea of your older sister engaging in any kind of relationship/activity with a twenty-three-year-old, you kept your distance until the faithful day.

Choi San was the synonym for the devil himself. With his fiery red hair and dazzling cat-like eyes, he lured you into his messy life of illegal parties and binge drinking. You still find yourself cringing at his pathetic excuses of professing his undying love to you when it was all under false pretences. His eyes bearing into your naïve soul, pulling your heart out and wrenching it until your friends came to pick up the pieces.

Sitting in the police station you counted down minutes before your older sister would burst through the door and finally decide to disown you. With your head nested between your knees you suck in the tears threatening to spill, the euphoria from the alcohol long gone. You’ve dialled Mingi’s number first, the others were a no go when it came to answering their phones. He picked up in a matter of seconds. After explaining the situation, you figured he would bring his own parents to bail you out instead Namjoon comes first, after him a stressed Minnie trying to keep up the pace with him and a Yeonjun who’s pulling his masks further over his nose in a lame attempt to be unrecognizable. Mingi idly meanders behind them in his pyjamas with not one care in the world. Namjoon pulls a small amount of money handing the police officer and not long after you were free.

At that moment you’ve truly recognized your friends as the people you wanted to keep in your life forever. Namjoon jokingly said he would someday cash in his favour. Little did you know the joke would get over your head.

“You’ve waited for four years to cash it?”

He shrugs and nods lightly. Quickly he composes himself, washing his features of playfulness and switching them up with hopelessness. “It’s really important for me that you and your clique of friends attend this course. Professor Seojoon organized it-“

At the mention of your favourite professor, your eyes light up making Namjoon shudders. The little “crush” you harboured didn’t go unnoticed by him. Putting his hands on your shoulders he gains your attention again before continuing, “his brother is the one to hold the course so you must come. I will put in a good word for you all. Maybe he will go easy on you during quizzes.”

You roll your eyes knowing fully well that you didn’t need Namjoon’s intervention although it was greatly appreciated. Putting the flyer in your back pocket you throw a thumbs up to Namjoon, “Well Minnie and I don’t need any favouritism and I am almost certain you can’t do much for Yeonjun and Mingi seeing as they are in different departments.”

“Oh?” Namjoon’s brows shot up at the revelation, totally dismissing the idea that you know each other any differently than through the classes you attend, “I thought Yeonjun was in the literature department, as for Mingi it’s far-fetched but I didn’t want to sound rude.”

“Actually, Yeonjun is in the Vocal department while Mingi is in the Physics and Astronomy department. He’s also on top of his class, both are.”

Namjoon seems stunned at the information you threw at him, but he recovers swiftly, “Bunch of nerds.” He chuckles at his own jokes before both of you bid goodbyes. You slowly make your way to the cafeteria mind set on pursuing your friends to join you and Namjoon running to the staff meeting hoping to extinguish the chaos caused by the talent show.

Pushing past the mass of people on the campus your sneakers squeak against the pavement, the chatter between the students becoming louder as you push the cafeteria doors. Making your way towards the table in the further left corner you spot Yeonjun’s eye-catching hair. The pink shade fits well against his pale skin making him noticeable from afar. The boy throws a piece of chips at Mingi, the latter catching it mid-air.

The rustling of your chair brings them out of their bubble. Minnie plops her elbows on the table, hand supporting her cheek as she lays it there, eyes staring at you amusingly. Mingi continues to catch Yeonjun’s chips, his attention now slightly focused on you. “How was the talk with professor Namjoon.”

“I need a favour to ask you.”

“Last time you asked for a favour we had to bail you from jail,” Mingi adds face void of any emotion causing Yeonjun to almost choke on the piece of chicken from his plate. Minnie reaches for his head hitting him hard on the back.

“That was four years ago for God’s sake.” You yell, a few students turning bothered by your loud voice disrupting their meal.

Slumping further into the seat, cheeks reddened from the heat of the sudden attention you gained you say quietly, “there is a course taking place this year and I would love if you could attend it.”

Mingi was the first to read the flyer once you push it in the middle of the old table. He hums a couple of times and gives you a thumbs up, unlike Minnie who scoffs.

“A whole semester? Y/N you know this is impossible to juggle this with our final project. As much as I would love to participate you know what you’re asking for is too much.”

You bite your lower lip remembering Namjoon’s words. “I know but professor Seojoon is organizing it, and don’t you think having him on our good side would mean a lot?”

Minnie shrugs and pops the strawberry into her mouth. “I understand, but it’s on Fridays. The only time I can spare for parties and clubs, and you’re asking me to spend it studying something I am not even remotely interested in?”

You turn towards Yeonjun knowing if he agrees Minnie will crumble under the pressure of your group. He scans it quickly and shakes his lightly head from left to right before agreeing to accompany you making Minnie collapse her shoulders in defeat.

“Fine but if it takes too much of my time I am signing out.”

“I love you guys so much.”

“Cut it with the sappy shit, I have piano lessons.” Yeonjun gets up telling you goodbye before he disappears in the ocean of students his pink hair no longer visible. A distant scream could be heard a few seconds after, “I love you too.”

You smile feeling the love of your friends.

“We love you too.” Mingi gets up and places a carton of freshly squeezed apple juice in front of you sending off a small smile. Just like Yeonjun, he’s gone.

                        -

Nose buried deep into the book; Taehyung tried his best to mute out his brother’s lame attempts of starting a conversation he never intended to finish. Legs resting on the polished marble table he did his very best to further fuel Seojoon’s irritation. The older one pacing back and forwards provoking Taehyung’s headache.

“If you would just listen to me.”

Kim Taehyung detested surprise, especially those he didn’t catch on early. This one though topped the cake. “There is no need to listen.”

“Quit being stubborn.”

“Oh, the irony.” Taehyung looked up catching his brother’s burning gaze,” contrary to your beliefs, I must say you are the one who’s stubborn here. When a person asks for space and time you give them that instead of forcing them, wait sorry what was the word again? Yeah, lightly pushing them into holding a course. One which they never asked for or showed the desire to hold.”

“You needed a little push in the right direction.”

“Arranging a one-year course isn’t a push you idiot,” Taehyung shouted; the book was long forgotten and tossed aside on his couch. His yell echoed in the empty room causing Seojoon’s to scowl. He found comfort in a small armchair adjacent to the marble table. “You can’t bury yourself in books and spend your days in the atelier. It’s not healthy Taehyung.”

“I don’t remember asking for advice.”

Seojoon was on the verge of giving up, letting the course get cancelled before it even happened hadn’t it been for the twelve people that signed up and Namjoon’s effort to recruit them.

“Look-“he takes a deep breath calming himself, “You can think of it as a one year course, but in reality, it’s eight months. When you count Christmas, New Year, Easter you can cut one month coming to seven months in total. I’ve gone all out for this course, please don’t make me go and explain to my higher-ups why it’s cancelled before it even started.”

Taehyung shut his eyes trying not to feed the growing frustration inside him. Seojoon takes the time to look at his brother, the embodiment of pain. The eyes that used to shine brightly at the sight of new opportunities were now dull and empty, almost as if his soul left the body. It tore him apart to see Taehyung like that, powerless and what added more to his pain was the inability to help him.  

“It’s been a year since I’ve held a class.”

“I know you Taehyung. You are a man of many talents and there is nothing that can convince me otherwise. You need to move forward and face the fear you’ve been holding onto. It’s been a year. Nobody will judge you.” Seojoon’s eyes soften as he walks up to his brother ruffling his hair, hoping that his sincerity got through to him.

“I don’t know Joon.”

Before Seojoon could even start talking Taehyung shakes his head and moves hurriedly reaching for the knob. Seojoon takes a step towards Taehyung, but he doesn’t even give him a chance to speak as he runs right out of the door leaving him alone in the atelier.

The water drips from Taehyung’s wet hair down his face creating a false comfort, the sound of water coated a perfect cover to hide his emotional baggage. It became a habit of his to seek solace in the bathtub surrounded by lavender soaps that Yuna bought. A tradition carried on from their mother to them. The scent took Taehyung back into his childhood spent in his family home in Busan. Carefree of responsibilities and the heavy burden the world carried.

He recalls the delicate touch of his mother’s fingers untangling his locks while singing Elvis’s song can’t help falling in love. Her voice heartening Taehyung as he wept over a dispute he had with his second brother Hyungsik. The vivid memory of his mother placing a kiss on the crown of his head before wiping away the tears from his cheeks.

“Siblings are there to teach you about life,” she whispers softly, “They teach you what it means to be kind, to be fair and to know you will not always be right. They teach you about teamwork, conflict resolution and most importantly Tae they teach you what it is to love and to be loved.”

Opening the door of Seojoon’s study, Taehyung is greeted with a sight to behold. Leaning against the door frame he watches Yuna and Hyungsik dancing in the middle of the muddled room, furniture pushed aside to create more room. They attempted to follow Yuna’s new choreography, Seojoon’s seated in the leather armchair grading assignments although he would glance up occasionally laughing at the duo. More like laugh at Hyungsik’s failed attempts but he didn’t need to know that. Noticing Taehyung’s presence, Yuna runs over linking their arms and pulls him forward oblivious to the slight tension between him and Seojoon.

“Idol my ass, “she scoffs at a gasping Hyungsik, “Taehyungie I need a dance partner for my new choreography. Hyungsik can’t even learn the basics.”

“Not my fault the younger generation goes overboard with their dances and outfits and singing. In my time we relied on our charms, and not how you call it? Fairy ending? What is even that?”

“It’s when idols finish the song, and the camera pans on of them giving them some more love and screen time. Right?” Taehyung looks at Yuna for approval. She places Taehyung’s hand over her shoulder, linking her arms around his waist while he kisses her temple and puts his cheek on top of her head.

“Admit it you’ve gotten old Hyungsik.” Seojoon derides.

That was enough to motivate Hyungsik to crack his fingers and reach for the tablet, “Give me the goddamn tablet. I’ll show you who’s old.” burying his nose into the gadget, he replays the video repeatedly.

By the time he made it through the first segment of the dance, Taehyung was sure he could blindly replicate the choreography himself.

“Couldn’t you ask one of your professors or other idols in training to help you?” Taehyung asks as the two observe Hyungsik’s rusty moves.

“One friend is busy finishing school projects and Jungkook-a has too many events lined up to help. I haven’t seen him since last Friday and I don’t feel comfortable asking Jimin-ssi to practice with me.”

“Isn’t he your professor?”

“Yes and no. He helps the idols which have already debuted in our entertainment company, that’s Jungkook. Jimin-ssi does occasionally step in when other professors are prevented from teaching. But his job is being a full-time professor at the EQ Royal Dance Academy.”

Taehyung nods, the information flying over his head as Hyungsik messes up a move and topples to the floor. He erupts into fits of laugher for the first time in weeks and Seojoon is suddenly reminded what’s it like to be happy. He knew bringing Yuna home for the weekend would do Taehyung some good. The sight warms his heart, his siblings bickering loudly, breathing some life into the old room. Resting the assignments on the nearby table, he sits up to join them. Catching Taehyung’s gaze he looks towards the boy, brows raised.

“I’ve thought about it and-” Taehyung stops for a second, but Seojoon’s soft gaze prompts him to continue. “I’ll take the job.”

“Well, you better get ready because it starts in two hours.”

“What?!”

                       -

There were many ways you could spend your Friday night, like partying for instance yet here you are sitting in your car listening to Minnie whining. Mingi’s soul stuck somewhere on his iPod the second he set foot in the car, his head bobbing to the music blasting from his AirPods. Yeonjon was the only one not present. Due to his idol actives, he was held back by his vocal coach, but he promised to be there for the second lecture.

Placing your analogue camera on the desk, you tug your hair into a ponytail mentally preparing yourself for two hours of dullness. Minnie sits to your right while Mingi takes the chair to your left. The three of you seating yourselves in the front of the classroom, Namjoon’s words bunch of nerds playing in your head.

Shaking the thought away you see the watch tick eight pm as the door swings open.

When Namjoon told you professor Seojoon’s brother would hold the course you had expected a man either older than him or somewhere around his age, not a handsome make you take a double look type of a man; two or three years older than you.

His features were nothing short of a Greek god. He stood head and shoulders over you even when you were seated, confidence radiating from every fibre of his being as adjusts his bag over his shoulder. Pushing his brown curls away from his face he allows you to look at it. Perhaps you were exaggerating but you never saw such a gorgeous man. Straightening himself up you take notice of his attire for tonight’s lecture. An orange blazer draped over a white shirt brought out his sun-kissed complexion paired with the same-coloured trousers. A type of anonymity laced itself with every step he took in your direction, his stare a mixture of coldness and determination.

He comes forward, eyes scanning each one of you before he sets his gaze on you. It lingers there for a second, his expression unreadable before he breaks it.

“Hello, my name is Kim Taehyung and I’ll be your lecturer for this course.”

For the first time, you see Mingi’s focus entirely on Taehyung. His presence demanded to be felt and a part of you was sure he knew it. Taking the camera in his hand he turns towards you.

“I assume you have at least once taken a photo, whether with your phones or camera. Moreover, I am positive you have attempted to make an aesthetic photo for your Instagram feed. How many of you were successful?” laughter filled the lecture hall,” The goal of this lecture isn’t to make a photographer out of you nor to help you improve your skills. The point is to make you fall in love with photography. The rest will come easy.”

He walks around the desk and opens an old leather binder. Walking towards your table he places it in front of Mingi allowing the three of you to peek at the content of it. There neatly stored in a plastic sheet were his photos. Mingi pushes the portfolio in front of you, allowing easier access to both Minnie and you. Slowly leafing through the pictures, you stop in total awe. Eyes trailing over a simple photo of a ray field, caught somewhere in later November or early December judging by the snow. The contrast was striking, the clash of the colours and the depth of field creating an imaginary line between the ray and the sky.

Taehyung observes your dumbfounded expression, intrigued by your sudden amazement he ambles to your side. He rakes over the photo, which was a thereby sheer mistake, panic rushing through him. In a reckless attempt to stop you from further prying into the photos he grasps the portfolio out of your hold knocking over your camera in the process. It hits the floor shattering the lens into pieces, the film rolling down until it stops near his feet. Cursing himself for his abrupt action, he looks at you. Your eyes drift from the broken camera to Taehyung’s face.

He hurriedly squats picking the pieces, analysing the damage. Beyond repair.

“I am so sorry. I-” he says placing the parts on your table trying to come up with more words of apology.

“It’s alright.” You shuffle awkwardly in your seat not liking the spotlight put on you.

“I’ll be sure to repay you the coasts of a new camera.”

You shake your head; the camera was already outdated, and you were sure Sunmi would let you borrow her digital one from the gallery. “It’s fine.”

Taehyung puts his lips into a thin line, the confidence he marched beginning to leave his body. Although you showed no anger or resentment towards him, he still felt the need to apologize. Swallowing the awkward moment, he paces towards the centre.

“Today we will start with simple terms such as ISO, Aperture and Shutter speed. Three things you should get familiar with.”

Fetching his Nikon camera from the case he turns it around. Swirling the button on the upper part of the camera he adjusts the mode to manual. Pushing another button towards himself the camera shows three circles in the middle of the screen.

“The first circle is shutter speed. That’s the speed at which the light of a camera sensor is exposed to light when taking a photo. Slow shutter speed captures the blur of subjects in motion. It’s valuable for night and landscape photography. On the other hand, high speed allows you to freeze a single millisecond in time.”

Pointing to the middle circle he continues. “This is an aperture, the opening through which light passes through the lens to enter the camera. Its size can be modified to control how much light reaches the sensor.”

Lastly, he shows you the third button. “ISO represents the sensor’s sensitivity to the light. The higher the number, the more information will be captured in other words the picture will be brighter.”

Taehyung fumbles with the camera for a few seconds before he focuses it on you and with a click and shutter of light, he takes your photo. With no time to recover you feel a blush creep at the thought of how the picture turned out. “As you can see this is the perfect setting for the indoor portrait. Now if we put the shutter speed high and the ISO low-“

He again takes a picture of you turning the camera screen to the students. The photo was dark, your features barely visible but still your figure could be distinguished. “This is an underexposed photo. Now if we set the shutter speed to let’s say 1/40 and places the ISO high-“

Expecting his move this time, you look up at the camera. Taehyung halts his action for a slight second before he presses the button. Looking at the photo, the brightness is overbearing. “This is an overexposed photo.”

He places the camera in front of Mingi, Minnie and you allowing you to take your time and compare the three photos he took. “Why am I showing you this? Because for your next assignment that’s what you will do. You will take three photos of the same object. The object you choose should be something that left a great impact on you. That can be your family, your friends or an inanimate object such as phones, books etc. The choice is yours.”

Pulling out stacks of paper he leaves them on the corner of his desk.” These here are today’s study notes. I don’t expect you to write down notes while in the class, but I do expect you to finish your assignments. That will be all for today.”

The students began leaving the room each taking one paper, Taehyung stood there, hands in his pocket looking through every pupil that passed by. Minnie was first in line, her flirt mode on. You see them exchange a few words, Minnie’s behaviour suddenly going from sweet to sour in seconds. You dally your way to the desk aware of his gaze burning holes in the side of your head.

“Sorry, Y/N was it?” You peek up not expecting him to spare you a second let alone address you.

“Yeah?”

Taehyung scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.” I am sorry for what happened to your camera. I know you said it’s fine, but I feel responsible for it. I would feel better if you let me repay you by buying a new camera or at least participating in the coasts.”

“No, really it’s fine.” You laugh as you say it for the fourth time today.” I will borrow my sister’s camera for the course. If I do find myself in a need to buy a new camera, I will let you know.”

Before Taeyhung could protest you nod politely and leave the room. Biting his lip, he couldn’t help to feel bad about the wreck he made knowing full well how much an analogue camera costs nowadays. Taking the Nikon one from your table he swipes through the photos deleting each one before he pauses on the last one. It was the first black and white photo he took of you.

Your eyes were focused on Taehyung, although taken aback by the light they held their composure your mouth pulled into an affiliative smile. The white light made your baby hair stand out in the black background. For an unexplained reason, Taehyung felt a small tug, one he couldn’t pinpoint the meaning of. Shutting off his camera, he exhales through his nose and throws the bag over his shoulder.

The first lecture was done, thirty-three to go.

all rights reserved @moochi0park

[hizashis-lil-bunbun]

The Silent Auction- (Hizashi Yamada X Fem!Reader)

This is my contribution to the Citrus Dome Auction Collab! Hizashi is honestly one of my favorite characters to write for and it’s a crime I don’t use him more.

Word Count: ~8.5k

Contains: smut, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, DDLG (if you squint)

Banner by @ladyshinigami

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I can’t believe this.” You sigh for the umpteenth time, twisting this way and that to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You’re wearing a rich, black, floor-length gown with a high slit up one side and just the right amount of ruching to tastefully accentuate your curves. It was truly a miracle that it fit without the need for alterations, considering you’d had to buy the thing in a rush. Hell, you’d barely glanced at the price tag before slapping down your company credit card, viewing it as a bit of karmic justice for your boss’ callous, last-minute assignment. Sure being a sidekick of Endeavor’s (even a minor one) had its perks, but that didn’t make him any less of a nightmare to work for. As you struggled with the miniscule clasp on your necklace, you replayed this morning’s events in your head.

“The Heroes Gala?” You’d questioned, cocking your head in confusion and earning an irritated groan from the Flame Hero.

“Surely you’ve heard of it.” He’d snarked, the flames that ring his face seeming to flare in annoyance. “The Commission holds it once a year as a way to celebrate our achievements in hero society today and raise money for future endeavors. Dignitaries and heroes from all over the country– the world really– are expected to attend.”

“I’m aware of that, sir.” You’d chirped back, straightening up to make up for your lapse in decorum. “I’m just confused by what this has to do with me.”

If looks could kill, the glare he’d shot you would have put you in a coffin.

“Unfortunately, I’ve been called away on an urgent mission and can’t make it to the gala this year. But since I am the Number One Hero, my agency must provide some form of representation. That’s where you come in.”

Your eyes went wide at that, heart jumping into your throat as the gravity of the situation sank in. As far as your job was concerned, Endeavor’s word was law. There was no bargaining or substitution to be made. He didn’t even wait for a response before continuing.

“Your role for this event is simple: smile, wave, and maybe bid on a few of the auction items as a show of good faith. If you win something, fine. Just make sure it’s nothing… distasteful.”

You were tempted to question the noticeable shudder that ran through him as spat out the final word. But the careless wave of his hand was the signal for you to bow and leave, giving you no room for queries. However, just as you were about to walk out the door, he decided to toss some parting remarks your way.

“Make sure to wear something appropriate. It is a black tie event, after all. And one of my other sidekicks will be escorting you this evening. Call it insurance to make sure you don’t do anything to embarrass me.”

“Asshole.” You hiss under your breath, successfully hooking the clasp shut and putting a few loose hairs back in place. “What does he think I’m going to do? Get wasted and swing from the chandelier?”

Still muttering a litany of colorful curses, you march to the edge of your bed and plop down to slip into the matching stilettos you’d picked out during your brief shopping trip. Shoes like these were normally well out of your comfort zone (not to mention your price range), but you weren’t the one paying for them. Call them compensation for sacrificing one of your precious nights off. Once they were on, you stood up from the bed and carefully made your way over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. You smooth down the fabric of your dress, picking away a few stray pieces of lint and checking for any “embarrassing” blemishes or stains. But everything is almost irritatingly perfect, not a stitch out of place. You’re about to launch into another tirade against Endeavor when your work phone chimes from it’s spot on the nightstand. No doubt it’s your “escort” (you refused to call him a date) texting to let you know he was coming to get you. Or worse, already here.

“No turning back now.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“This is it.” You hear Endeavor’s other sidekick grunt, forcing you to snap out of your daydreaming and look towards him. You hadn’t batted an eye when you stepped out of your apartment to find Endeavor had sent a limo, driven by one of his fleet of personal chauffeurs, to pick you up. He did have a knack for flashing his wealth and status whenever possible. What did surprise you was his choice of escort for the evening: a man by the name of Buru (or Taurus if you were to use his hero name). Buru was a fair bit older than you, sporting a pair of bull horns and hooves, and corded with so much muscle it was a wonder how he managed to squeeze into a tux. You seem positively miniscule compared to his hulking frame, making you look like a rather odd couple. The driver pulls up to the curbside, quickly putting the limo in park before getting out to hold the door open for you. He courteously extends a hand to you, which you graciously accept before snagging your evening clutch from the seat beside you. You gracefully step out of the vehicle and onto an honest-to-god red carpet leading towards one of the glitziest hotels in the heart of Tokyo, blinking in the wake of what feels like a hundred camera bulbs flashing around you. Reporters and cameramen are clamoring to snap pictures of the various celebrities and heroes, asking questions that run the gamut from classy to trashy.

Buru plods around the limo to join you by your side, giving you a subtle nod to signal that it’s time to start walking. You set off down the plush runway, walking with more confidence than you felt as reporters peppered you and Buru with questions about your relationship to the Number One Hero. Evidently they’d been tipped off regarding Endeavor’s absence. Buru remained stone-faced, his long strides quickly outstripping your much more delicate steps. 

“So much for being an escort.” You think, deciding to pick up the pace so as to not be left behind. And that decision quickly reveals itself to be a terrible mistake. Your pencil thin heel catches on a hidden snag in the carpet, causing your ankle to twist and buckle beneath you. You’re thrown off balance, teetering wildly before plummeting headlong towards the carpeted pavement. But before you can fall flat on your face, a set of strong, slender hands wrap themselves around your torso and pull you upwards, your back coming in contact with your savior’s chest.

“Woah there, little listener!” A familiar voice trills in your ear, their hands releasing you once you’re back on stable footing. “You almost took one helluva stage dive! You good?”

You turn over your shoulder to find a smiling face, framed by outrageous orange sunglasses and a well-trimmed mustache. Hypnotic, emerald eyes seem to sparkle back at you and his long blond hair is tied up in a messy, half-bun. You know this man. Everyone in Tokyo with a radio knows him: Present Mic, the Voice Hero.

“Thanks, Present Mic.” You mumble, an embarrassed blush rising on your cheeks. It was bad enough you’d stumbled in front of the press; the incessant clicking and flashing of cameras was reminding you of that. But to be saved by another hero on top of it… it was a little too much. However, the blonde doesn’t seem to care, giving a hearty laugh and clapping a hand on your shoulder good-naturedly.

“Don’t mention it, baby!” He chortles, winking in a way that would seem forced or cheesy coming from anyone else. “Always happy to help. Besides, it doesn’t seem like your boyfriend is too keen on stickin’ around.”

“Boyfriend?” You ask, cocking your head before remembering who you came with. You blush an even deeper shade of red, sure your face is about to burst into flames akin to your employer’s own. “Oh! No, no, no! He’s not my boyfriend. We just work together at the agency.”

“No kiddin’?” Mic says, his grin spreading impossibly wider before straightening up and offering an arm to you. “In that case, how ‘bout I lend you a hand until we get inside? No offense but those heels ya got on seem closer to stilts than kicks, ya dig?

While his radio slang is a bit confusing, you can’t help but find it a little endearing. With a sheepish nod, you grab a hold of his jacket-clad forearm and allow him to smoothly lead you down the remainder of the red carpet. He’s in full ‘Present Mic mode” as you walk together, all winning smiles and carefree waves as the press peppers him with questions.

“Mic who are you wearing this evening?”

“Present Mic! What’s the name of your damsel in distress?

“Mic! Is it true you’re involved in a scandalous affair with fellow Pro, Eraserhead?”

He lets their shameless inquiries roll off of him like water off a duck’s back, only blowing a dramatic kiss to the crowd before you both disappear behind the front doors. Once inside the lobby, Mic walks you over to one of three elevators, ushering you inside with a crush of other gala-goers once the doors open. It’s a short ride up to the venue space, and you can’t help but gasp when the elevator doors open onto an immaculately decorated ballroom. Every wall and archway is decorated with banners in the Hero Commission's signature black and gold colors, festooned with matching sprays of floral arrangements. There’s a live band somewhere in the room, playing soft jazz in the background to create an elegant atmosphere for the evening. But most impressive of all is the view; the farthest wall is made up entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a panoramic view of the Tokyo skyline. The sun is just starting to dip below the horizon, washing the room in an amber light that gives everyone a coppery glow. You’re so spellbound by the scene before you that Mic’s low whistle causes you to jump slightly. How long has he had his arm draped over your shoulders? Come to think of it, when had you slipped your own arm around his waist?

“Damn.” He breathes, carefully walking out of the elevators with you in tow. “This place is bitchin’. So much cooler than last year’s venue.”

“Is that so?” You say, your head swiveling around as a waiter breezes past you with a tray of finger foods. You don’t notice the way Mic watches you, nor do you see the crooked smile that crosses over his face as your tongue darts out to wet your lips. 

“Oh yeah.” He says, leading you away from the elevators and further into the crowd. “Last year the Commission rented out some–”

“Mic!” A deep voice calls above the steady thrum of conversation, cutting him off. An equally deep, if not more irritated voice calls out your own name simultaneously. The two of you look in opposite directions, the blonde towards a pair of dark-haired individuals waving him over and you towards your forgotten escort. Buru is fuming, smoke practically pouring out of his ears as he marches towards you.

“Where were you?” He growls while grabbing the hand closest to him and pulling you away from Mic harshly. “You’re not supposed to leave my side. Boss’ orders!”

“Stop it Buru!” You snap, yanking your hand out of his grip. “If you didn’t want me to leave your side, maybe you should have waited for me back on the red carpet. I nearly fell and busted my ass thanks to you! If Present Mic hadn’t been there–”

“No excuses.” Buru snaps back, “I shouldn’t have to wait around because you can’t keep up. We’re Mr. Todoroki’s sidekicks, so try to act like it!”

“Todoroki?” You hear the blonde hero echo behind you, “As in Enji Todoroki? Endeavor?”

You wince at Mic’s words, grateful your back is turned to him at the moment. Endeavor may be a hero, but being associated with him didn’t evoke a lot of warm, fuzzy feelings in folks. And many tended to react poorly when they found out who you worked for. With a dejected sigh, you turn back towards Mic, ignoring the way Buru impatiently stamps his hooves behind you.

“Yes, that’s right.” You say glumly, putting up your mask of professionalism. “I’m one of Endeavor’s sidekicks. He was called away on urgent business and sent me and my associate here to represent him and his agency. Forgive me for not telling you earlier.”

You offer a quick, apologetic bow, hoping to slink away as quickly as possible. But to your surprise, Mic doesn’t scoff, jeer, or even try to suck up to you for favors. He laughs. Not in a cruel or condescending way, but a real, mirthful laugh, infectious to the point you feel your own tension ease slightly.

“So that’s why I didn’t recognize ya!” He chortles, smacking his palm to his forehead. “Although it’s not too surprising. That dude cycles through more sidekicks than a jukebox does music.”

The nonchalant way he insults your boss causes your mask to slip and you let loose a giggle of your own. Buru, on the other hand, is clearly not amused.

“How dare you insult the Number One Hero!” He roars, stepping forward to point a scathing finger at Mic. “Endeavor is twice- no, three times the hero you could ever hope to be!”

“Woah, woah, woah! Take it easy, dude!” Mic says, putting his hands up before shooting you another playful wink. “All I meant was I definitely would have remembered meeting a pretty little thing like your partner here.”

You find yourself blushing and batting your eyelashes at him, returning his obvious attempts at flirting in a more surreptitious manner. Buru just places one broad hand on your shoulder, giving Mic a derisive snort before he starts to drag you away. 

“You’re not worth the effort.” He huffs, “Just stay away.”

You can’t resist adding one more match to the fire of Buru’s rage, looking over your shoulder and belting out a cheerful, “It was nice meeting you!”

“See ya around!” The blonde calls back, giving you a chipper wave before disappearing into the throng. Buru leads you to a table at the far end of the room, set with fine crystal stemware and gold place settings. He stiffly pulls out a chair for you, allowing you to sit down before taking up residence beside you. You’re amazed the flimsy looking things can support any weight at all, much less the mountain of horned muscle currently glowering at you. He crosses his arms and leans back with a grunt.

“So… now what?” You ask, absentmindedly fiddling with the gold napkin ring in front of you.

“You stay put.” He commands, “No leaving my sight for any reason.”

“You’re joking right? Do you seriously expect me to sit here with you all night?”

Buru doesn’t answer, instead turning his glare onto the crowd. You groan and flop forwards to rest your elbows on the table, opting to occupy your time with people watching. The ballroom is crawling with high-profile attendees: pros and sidekicks, politicians and CEO’s, celebrities and VIP’s. All of them with money, power, and prestige oozing out of their pores. You watch as the tuxedo-clad waitstaff scurry amongst the party-goers, offering up trays of hors d'oeuvres and honey-colored champagne. Every once a while, one of them makes their way over to your table with some delicious little morsel to offer. And in your famished state, the already excellently prepared food tastes like heaven. But when a server carrying a tray of champagne comes by to offer you a glass, Buru grabs your wrist before you can partake and rudely waves the poor girl off.

“What the hell was that for?” You hiss, rubbing at your now sore wrist.

“No alcohol. You’ve embarrassed me and Endeavor enough as it is.”

That does it. You can deal with villains, Endeavor, even your parents if necessary. But this “personal babysitter” schtick has gone far enough. You stand up from the table with a huff, swiftly moving out of Buru’s reach before he can grab you again. 

“Sit down!”

“No! I have to go to the bathroom. Can I at least do that?”

“I’ll accompany you.”

“Like hell you will! I’m a grown woman. I can go to the bathroom by myself without getting in trouble.”

Buru narrows his eyes and scowls deeply at you. You stare him down, refusing to back down from this fight. After a few tense moments, he relaxes slightly and gives a curt nod.

“You have ten minutes.”

You grab your clutch, turn on your heel and march off into the fray, doing your best to avoid stepping on other people with your dagger sharp heels. As you make your way across the crowded dance floor, you begin to recognize the more popular Pro Heroes among the sea of faces. Some of them you’d had the privilege of meeting personally, like Hawks and Miruko, both of whom were currently surrounded by fans and admirers. Others you’d only seen on TV or in newspaper clippings, but that didn’t make them any less impressive. In fact, you were too busy watching Fatgum scarf down a whole tray of artisanal onigiri by himself to notice a certain blonde standing in your way until it was too late. You bumped right into him, bouncing off with an embarrassed “I’m so sorry!” before coming eye-to-eye with those striking green whorls again.

“Oh hey, it’s you!” Mic exclaims, grinning down at you like he hasn’t seen you in ages. “No need to be sorry, baby. This thing’s a rental anyways!”

“But you’re all wet now.” You say, watching him while he wipes the remains of his spilled champagne off his tux jacket. “I can pay for the cleaning fees if necessary. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Honey, trust me. There are worse things to be covered in than free champagne. I’ve been to enough of these gigs to know!”

You giggle and open your mouth to respond, but are cut off by a velvety voice coming from your left. 

“Is this the little songbird you were telling us about, Zashi?’

You turn to find one of Present Mic’s companions from earlier, a dark-haired woman sipping her own drink and watching your exchange. She’s dressed in a skintight, scarlet gown with a neckline that plunges almost to her navel. A matching pair of horn-rimmed spectacles are perched on her nose, framing her striking cerulean eyes. Even without their signature harness and flogger, you recognize her as Miss Midnight.

“Yup! She’s the one!” Present Mic confirms, casually slinging his arm back around your shoulders. “What’d I tell ya? Pretty cute, right?”

The R-Rated Hero turns her gaze on you at his words, the sultry look in her eyes causing your stomach to flip a little. Seriously, it should be illegal for anyone to look that sexy.

“Very cute.” She assesses with a nod, “Zashi says you work for Endeavor, yes?”

“Y-yeah.” You fumble, slightly flustered and tongue-tied in the face of her scandalous beauty. “I’m one of his sidekicks.”

“I’m sorry.” Midnight quips back, her lack of manners shocking you slightly. But judging by the booze-bitten blush on her cheeks, you suppose the liquid courage in her system is to blame. “I know he’s the Number One Hero, but I’ve been his colleague long enough to realize how intense he can be. He must have you on a pretty short leash, huh?”

“I’ll say!” Mic chimes in, “He sent along some “nanny cow” of a sidekick to watch her all night. Speakin’ of which, how’d you manage to shake him?”

“Well…”

You glance back in the direction you came from, only for your face to drain of all color as you see a tell-tale pair of horns bobbing up and down amongst the crowd. Hizashi follows your line of sight and instantly sees the danger. Quick as anything, his arm snakes around your midriff and he turns to Midnight for assistance.

“Hey Nemuri, I got a gig for ya. See that guy with the horns? Big, mean, and ugly lookin’? Think you can distract him for a few minutes?”

“No problem!” She chirps without hesitation, tipping back the rest of her brightly colored cocktail before readjusting the neckline of her dress. It makes you wonder how much cleavage someone can possibly show before it crosses the line into pornographic. You’re too busy looking over your shoulder for Buru to notice the subtle wink that passes between the two heroes. And then Hizashi is moving, seamlessly flitting through the crowd and keeping you firmly glued to his side as you duck and weave around the other guests. You have to admit the speed at which he navigates the crowded space is impressive as he heads for one of the darkened archways lining the walls. Soon the crowd thins out and you reluctantly pry yourself out from under Mic’s arm to get your bearings. He’s lead you into a dimly-lit, side hallway, with tables and doorways lining the farthest walls. The din of party conversation and music is more muffled now, making you feel like you’re in a state of limbo.

“Where are we?”

“Silent auction.” Mic answers plainly, “Figured I’d take you somewhere quieter while we let Midnight do her thing.”

“And what exactly is her ‘thing?” You ask skeptically, wandering over to one of the display tables to check out the wares.

“You’ll see.” He says with a smirk, silently following behind you with his hands in his pockets. There are miniature spotlights shining down on the auction items, with slips of paper and pens for people to write in their bids. All the prizes are exceedingly lavish, from baskets overflowing with expensive spirits and goodies to exotic trips around the world. And the bids themselves leave your head spinning, shocked and a little sickened by the amount of money being casually thrown around.

“I’m sorry, the minimum bid for this is how much?” You scoff, pointing at the high price tag on what appears to be a singular bottle of wine. Mic leans over your shoulder to read the number himself, letting out a low whistle.

“Must be some good stuff.” He says with a smirk.

“I’m totally bidding on it.”

“You’re kiddin’ right? Last I checked, sidekicks don’t make that kind of bank, even if they do work for the Number One Pro. What are ya, some kind of secret billionaire princess?”

“Sadly no.” You say, digging into your evening bag to pull out a sleek, black card. “But I’m not the one who’s paying. And Endeavor did say to bid on a few items, ‘as a show of good faith.”

You end your sentence on a terrible impression of the Flame Hero, earning another snicker from the blonde as you place your bid. The pair of you wander the auction area for a while, gawking at the ludicrous prices and talking quietly. Or at least, as quietly as the blonde can manage. You fall into easy conversation, mainly discussing work in the hero world and Mic’s teaching career. Present Mic, or Hizashi as he prefers to be called, is a surprisingly eloquent speaker and his high-energy demeanor ensures there’s never a lull in the conversation. It’s honestly refreshing after dealing with the snooty, intense people you’re used to at the agency. Not to mention, he has no qualms about encouraging you to be a little mischievous when it comes to spending your boss’ money.

“How ‘bout that one?” He says, gesturing to a particularly gaudy piece of abstract art. “I think that would look rad on the big man’s mantlepiece, yeah?”

You giggle and lightly push against his arm, as mild punishment for his goofiness. 

“No way. Endeavor specifically said to not bid on something too ‘distasteful.’ And I’m pretty sure that thing is towing the line. What’s it even supposed to be?”

“It kinda looks like All Might.” Hizashi offers, “If you stand really far away and squint. I don’t really know much about fine art. But I do know ‘distasteful’ and I’m tellin’ ya now, this aint it baby.”

“And what would you qualify as distasteful?”

A grin that can only be likened to the Cheshire Cat spreads across Hizashi’s handsome face.

“I’ll show you.” He says, extending a hand to you. You grab a hold and allow him to guide you towards one of the doors along the wall. As you get closer, you realize there are small placards inscribed with a number on each of the handles. Hizashi is currently leading you to a door marked with the number seventeen, opening it for you and allowing you to step inside ahead of him. You find yourself in a much smaller room, washed in the same dim lighting as the rest of the auction area. It’s just big enough for two people to stand inside (three if they’re thin), and the oak paneling and cramped quarters almost remind you of a confessional booth. But there’s no man of the cloth here; instead there’s a screen set into the farthest wall and a small, black button resting on a shallow shelf below it. The screen only displays a three-digit number, every so often flashing red before going back to the number.

“What the hell?” You breathe while stepping farther into the room, allowing Hizashi to squeeze in behind you.

“Welcome to the main event of the Heroes Gala.” He says, closing the door. “The Anonymous Auction.”

“The Anonymous Auction?” You parrot back quizzically, turning around to face the blonde.

“You’re aware that most of the Commission's funding comes from public taxes, yeah?” He asks, waiting for your nod before continuing. “Well taxpayer dollars can only go so far. Especially when hero and villain activity has only gone up over time. Rebuildin’ a city you just smashed like an old record ain't cheap you know.”

He pauses to jerk one thumb behind him.

“That’s why they started holdin’ auctions– this whole gala, really– in the first place. It’s all just a fancy way to supplement the Commission’s budget. And due to the popularity of the auctions, they started offering some more… exclusive items in recent years.”

“What do you mean by exclusive?”

Hizashi gives you another playful smirk, looking at you over the rim of his sunglasses.

“You’re a smart girl. What do you think it means?”

He steps a little closer to you and places his hands on your waist for emphasis, thumbing small circles at the swell of your hips. You unconsciously lean into his touch and your eyes flutter closed for a moment before snapping open once more, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.

“You mean like sex stuff!?” You squeak bluntly, earning a laugh from the Voice Hero.

“Well not all of it! But there have been some bizarre and kinda risqué items up for sale in the past.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I know for a fact that Nemuri donates a part of her “collection” to the auction every year.” Hizashi states, putting air quotes around the term. “And rumor has it that last year All Might auctioned off a pair of his underwear. I don’t know about that one, but if that’s true, then it explains how UA paid for it’s new training grounds and why the staff got a nice Christmas bonus.”

You can’t help but giggle at the thought of some snobby billionaire drooling over a pair of All Might’s underwear. Maybe they’d had them framed, mounted on the wall like a hunting trophy. You’re too caught up in your ridiculous daydreaming to realize Hizashi has stepped even closer to you, not until you can feel his hands sliding a little further down your sides and a little farther behind you. You’re now chest to chest, breathing in tandem as he leans down to speak directly into your ear.

“So now that we’re in here… what do you say we play a little game?”

His voice is low and smooth, audial honey dripping into your brain. Your breath unconsciously catches in your throat as your body moves of its own accord to press closer to him. The energy between you is shifting palpably, from friendly strangers to something much more intimate and heavy. The room feels like it’s heating up and your dress suddenly feels much too snug.

“What kind of game?” You murmur back, a delicious shiver running down your spine when he hums in response.

“How ‘bout the quiet game?” He says, his bristly mustache tickling your cheek when he speaks. “But we’ll make it a little more interesting.”

You can feel him begin to gently push against you, forcing you to walk backwards until you feel the top of your tailbone bump into the low shelf. Hizashi’s hands never leave your body, roaming lower to finally settle on the plush curve of your ass. If anybody else was doing this, you’d have kneed them in the jewels and run for the nearest exit by now. But for some reason, you trust Hizashi. You want Hizashi. And if the steady throbbing in your core is any indication, you need Hizashi.

“Here’s the deal, babygirl.” He says, lifting his head to rest his forehead against your own. You can’t help the way your thighs tense at the pet name, something that definitely doesn't go unnoticed by the Voice Hero. “You’re going to try and stay as quiet as possible. And every time you get too noisy, you’re going to press that little button.”

His eyes flit over to the device in question before locking back on yours.

“That button raises your bid on whatever item is currently up for grabs. So the less noise you make, the less bids you make. And you wouldn’t want to end up winning something distasteful, yeah?”

You subtly shake your head and crack a small smile at his joke, bringing your hands up to rest on his clothed pecs. You’re surprised to feel powerful muscles rippling underneath his rented dress shirt, along with the heat rolling off of his body and the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Clearly that rented tux is doing nothing for his figure.

“Well what are you going to do?” You tease, running your hands up the plane of his chest and underneath the jacket to grip his broad shoulders. “Seems like I’m the only one playing this game of yours.”

One of his hands leaves your ass to hook a finger under your chin, forcing your head to tilt upwards. He gives you a sinfully wicked grin. 

“Oh but that’s the best part, baby. I’m going to try and make you scream.”

Suddenly his lips are crashing into yours, sloppily at first but soon smoothing out into a steady push and pull. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently before letting it spring back into place. You sigh into his mouth, a sound eagerly returned by the hero. Your nails dig into his shoulders, bunching the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss. There’s tenderness in the kiss to be sure, but also a fierce dominance that has you fighting against the moans rising in your throat. Hizashi uses the shelf behind you to force and arch into your back before kissing his way down the sensitive column of your throat. He licks and sucks at your pulse point, not hard enough to leave marks but enough to remind you that he’s in control. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, even going so far as to clap a hand over your mouth when he gives a particularly sharp nip. He clicks his tongue against your skin, bringing up his free hand to pull yours away.

“Ah ah ah. No cheating, baby.” He says, moving farther down your chest until his chin rests between the supple swell of your breasts. “If you try to put yourself on mute again you’ll have to press that button regardless. Ya dig?”

You nod and he releases your hand, allowing you to curl your arm around and place it at the base of his neck. Pleased with your compliance, Hizashi hooks his thumbs under the straps of your dress and gently shrugs them off. The top half of your gown falls away, pooling around your waist as your breasts are fully exposed to the open air. They pebble and peak instantly, despite the perceived heat in the room, and you feel Hizashi’s hum of appreciation rumble through your sternum. His hands come up to cup them, indulging in their full weight and supple give as he squeezes them lightly. His head dips down to kiss your right breast, ghosting over the pert bud of your nipple as he places featherlight kisses around the areola. It’s maddening, far too light and teasing for your liking. The hand on the back of his neck suddenly fists in his hair and you pull him closer to you, squishing his nose against the pliant flesh.

“Damn baby. Feelin’ needy already, huh?” He chuckles against you, pulling away slightly to look up at you through half-lidded, golden lashes. You whine softly, still pulling his head closer to your body. Hizashi resumes fondling your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth while using his thumb and forefinger to toy with the other. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nub, every deft twirl and brush mirrored by his fingers. It’s a blissful sensation, heating licking across your nerves and shooting straight to your core. Suddenly, he gives a particularly hard suck and pinch, pulling an involuntary gasp from you. You can feel his smug grin before you even look at him, and he pulls off your nipple with a soft pop.

“Strike one, princess. You know what you have to do.”

“I thought you said no cheating.” You whine, feeling the fresh slick coating your panties and relishing the lingering sting emanating from your nipples.

“It’s not cheating, it’s part of the game. Your job is to stay quiet, my job is to break the silence. Now are you going to play by the rules or not?”

You look over at the seemingly innocent button and furrow your brow. It’s only just dawned on you now that you have no idea what you’d be bidding on and a bolt of panic shoots through you. What if it was a piece from Nemuri’s collection? Or something worse! Hizashi, seeming to sense your trepidation, briefly raises his head up to plant a soothing kiss to your temple.

“Hey, we can stop if you wanna.” He says, removing his hands from your breasts to cup your cheeks. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m not gonna push ya.”

Your eyes bounce between the little black button and Hizashi’s face, biting your lip in your moment of indecision. It was a gamble for sure, a gamble that could easily cost you your job should you end up winning. But then again… how much humiliation and strain had your nightmare of a boss put you through in the past year? The past month? The past 24 hours? Taking a deep breath, you tentatively press the button, the screen behind you flashing green to signal the successful placement of your bid. Hizashi smiles down at you, impressed with your boldness.

“Fuck it.” You breathe, stretching up to press a chaste kiss against his lips. “I’m all in.”

Hizashi returns the kiss with interest before fully sinking to his knees, running one hand up the slit of your dress to rest on your exposed thigh.

“Okay then, baby.” He purrs, “I need you to spread your legs a little more for me. Lemme see what we’re workin’ with down here, yeah?”

You willingly comply, widening your stance as Hizashi sweeps the bottom half of the dress out of the way and tucks it behind you. The black, lacy thong you’d picked out for the occasion is soaked through, your essence already starting to coat your inner thighs. Hizashi runs one finger up your barely clothed slit, whistling when he feels how damp they are.

“Damn baby.” He breathes, almost like he’s in awe. “These are fucking ruined.”

You resume biting your lip when you feel two of his fingers hook underneath the material and pull it to the side, fighting against the urge to close your legs.

“Such a pretty girl…” Hizashi coos against you, planting a soft kiss to your right thigh before resting his head against it. “Everything about you is pretty.”

You can’t stop the blush that rises to your cheeks at the whispered praise, nor help the way your cunt clenches around nothing. It certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde as he leans in closer, using his thumbs to gingerly pry your labia apart. He looks up at you hungrily, pupils blown wide with desire as he tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Hold on tight, baby.”

Hizashi uses the flat of his tongue to lick a hot stripe up your slit, letting out a low, filthy moan at the taste. You realize now why he gave you a warning. He’s using his quirk to amplify his moans tenfold, turning his mouth and tongue into the most attentive sex toy on Earth. The vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, clouding your senses with desire. Whatever restraint the hero possessed dissolves the moment he tastes you, as he latches on to your rapidly swelling clit and sucks roughly. You gasp at the new sensation, hips unconsciously bucking to force his face further into you. He hums and willingly obeys your body’s command, replacing his mouth with a heavy thumb and delving his tongue between your folds to lap at your quivering entrance. The increase in intensity causes your thighs squeeze together, caging in the hero’s head as he dutifully tongue-fucks you. You can already feel an orgasm mounting deep in your core, his earlier teasing and stimulation paying off in spades. But his tongue isn’t enough, even with his quirk.

“M-More!” You cry out, unable to quell your pleading voice. “I need more. Need to cum. Please let me cum!”

Hizashi pinches the back of your thigh, a silent reminder for you to follow through with the rules of the game. With a groan you bring your hand down on the button, ignoring the flashing screen as you grind your hips down onto his face. But just when you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls away from you, breathing heavily and his face coated in your sticky juices. You whimper at the loss of contact, but his hands keep your thighs spread apart to deny you the friction you seek.

“Good girl.” He pants, still swirling his thumb over your aching pearl. “So good for me, baby.”

“Then why’d you stop?” You softly moan, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’d been so close.

“Because,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “The only way I want you to cum is on my cock.”

Before you can fully register his words, he grabs you by the hips and flips you around, pulling your dress up and bunching it in one fist. Your panties are roughly yanked down around your ankles and you have to brace yourself against the shelf as you feel the hard bulge of Hizashi’s pants rub against your bared ass. A sharp smack to one cheek causes you to yelp, and a quick smack to the other forces you to bring your hand down on the button.

“Cheater.” You pant, earning a dark chuckle for the man behind you.

“Name-calling are we now, baby? Just for that, you don’t get to cum until I say so. Understood?”

You nod quickly, glancing behind you when you feel him start to fiddle with his belt and zipper. Your eyes widen when you see his painfully erect cock spring free: long, thick, and with a silver ring adorning the reddened tip. He gives the length a few short pumps, coaxing out a pearly bead of precum that quickly winds its way around the Prince Albert piercing.

“I think someone likes what she sees.” He says coyly, flicking one finger against the metal for emphasis. “Ever been with a pierced guy before?”

You shake your head and Mic smirks.

“Then trust me. You’re gonna love this, babygirl.”

He lines the head up with your entrance and starts to slowly push into you, the initial stretch causing you to hiss in pain. But the burn soon melts into pleasure as Hizashi buries himself to the hilt, bottoming out with a grunt of his own. You can feel the metal ring bumping against your cervix already, a low moan escaping when he gives a few shallow thrusts.

“Good girl. Takin’ me so well. So tight and perfect.” He mutters breathlessly, voice barely above a whisper. The praise makes you whimper and clamp down on his cock, earning a moan of pleasure from Hizashi. He starts to move in earnest, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. Each forward thrust pushes your face closer to the wall, your breasts brushing back and forth across the cool wooden shelf and stimulating your pebbled nipples.Your mind is floating in a haze of hedonistic bliss as the air around you fills with the sounds of slapping skin and the scent of sex. You can already feel your orgasm racing towards you at a breakneck speed, the coil in your belly tightening with each thrust. Hizashi suddenly sinks his teeth into your right shoulder with a an almost feral growl, blunted teeth nearly piercing the skin. You squeal at the brilliant pain, only to feel his tongue lave over the forming welts, soothing them. You automatically bring your hand down on the button and his pace quickens in response, rewarding you by maneuvering his hips until he finds the spot that makes your vision go white and your mind go blank. 

“Th-th-there!” You sputter out, smacking the button before instinctually backing into him. You don’t give a damn about your boss or the money anymore. All you can focus on right now is chasing your own mind-numbing pleasure. He gives a hum of acknowledgement and straightens up, angling his thrusts to hit that spot every time. He can feel the way your walls flutter and shiver, right on the edge of release.

“That’s it, babygirl.” He grunts, licking the pad of his fingers before reaching below your bodies to find your clit. Slender digits rubs tight circles on the swollen bead, the rough touch making you almost sob in relief. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock!”

It’s a demand, one that your body is more than ready to obey. With one final circle of his thumb, the pressure snaps and you cry out in toe-curling ecstasy. It feels like your entire body locks up from the intensity of your orgasm and Hizashi gives a cry of his own when he feels the way your pussy clamps down on him like a vise. He forgoes gentleness in favor of animalistic rutting, gripping your hips to set a brutal and unforgiving pace. His cockhead and piercing continually slam into your g-spot and cervix, lengthening your own orgasm to an almost unbearable extent.

“Shit.” He curses, pistoning into you like a rabbit while his balls slap against your clit. “I’m fuckin’ close. Where do you want it?”

“Cum in me!” You wail, the game forgotten as fireworks explode behind your eyes. “Please! Hizashi! I need it.”

Hearing you beg so sweetly for him snaps what little composure he had left. Hizashi lets loose a guttural howl and after a few harsh thrusts, his hips stutter to a halt. You can feel his cock pulsing deep within you, filling you up with rope after rope of thick, white seed. He stays inside you for a moment, breathing heavily and feeling the way your velvety walls throb around his length. Your body feels hot and heavy, head swimming as you gradually come down from the high. Eventually, Present Mic pulls his spent dick from your abused hole, pausing to admire the way his cum oozes out and drips onto the wood floor before pulling your panties back up. Your legs might as well be made of jelly for how useful they are right now, wobbling on your stilettos as you hold onto the shelf for dear life.

“That…” You pant, “That was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Hizashi says behind you, tucking himself back into his trousers before smoothing one hand up and down your exposed back. His gentle touch causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, your nerves still overly sensitive.

“Yeah.” You breathe, “I needed that.”

Hizashi smirks and leans down to pepper kisses along your shoulder blades, basking in the afterglow alongside you. You practically melt under his affections, never wanting this tender, warm feeling to end.

“Can you stand?” He asks after a few minutes and you weakly nod. Carefully, he helps you stand upright, brushing a few stray pieces of hair behind your ear while you fix your dress and cover your chest once more. Hizashi then moves to fix his own half-bun, smirking at the way you’re dreamily looking up at him.

“Hey space cadet.” He teases, tapping the tip of your nose with one finger. “Come back to Earth for me, will ya? We better get outta here before your nanny cow calls the cops. Or worse, Endeavor.”

You blink slowly and hum in agreement, lazily looking over at the button one last time. And then you freeze. A new message is scrolling across the screen:

Congratulations! You have won lot #114. Please collect your prize.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, feeling your blissful headspace drown under an icy wave of fear. “Oh my god, NO! What the fuck did I just do?”

“Hm?” Hizashi turns to the screen and it’s too-cheerful message. “Oh! Well wouldja look at that?”

“Why are you being so calm about this!?” You shriek, grabbing him by the lapels of the tuxedo and frantically shaking him. “My boss is going to kill me! I have no idea what I– what he just bought! It could be a dildo in the shape of All Might’s dick for all I know!”

“Hey, hey! Chill out, baby!” Hizashi says, placing both hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Just breathe for me, okay? Nice and slow. You didn’t buy anything like that, I promise.”

“How do you know?” You squeak, trying not to hyperventilate.

“Because I know exactly what they were auctioning off with that lot number.”

“Then spare me the dramatics and spit it out, Hizashi! What did I just win!?”

“... Me.”

The world seems to stop for a moment as you stare up at Hizashi’s sheepish face. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, your overloaded brain trying to find the right words to say. It settles on a neanderthalic, “Huh?”

“You won me.” He repeats, “Well not forever anyways. Just for 24 hours.”

“I don’t understand. Are you trying to be funny?”

“I’m dead serious, baby! The Anonymous Auction doesn’t just offer material stuff. People can bid on and win “dates” with Pro Heroes. The more popular the Pro, the more money comes in. I volunteered to do it this year since a couple of my buddies did it last year.”

You blink slowly, allowing your panicky brain to process this new information.

“So… is that why you brought me here? Because you knew it was time for the bidding to start on your date?”

“I swear, I had no idea.” Hizashi says, crossing an X over his heart for emphasis. “I just wanted a chance to talk to you more and get ya away from that creep of a partner you came with. It was honestly just a lucky coincidence.”

“And the quiet game?”

“I came up with that on the fly when I saw my lot number on the screen. But I didn’t expect you to actually win the auction. And if you don’t wanna go through with this because of your boss or me, then I totally get it. You can always defer to the second highest bidder. That kinda thing happens all the time.”

You step back from Hizashi and turn away, muttering a quick, “Give me a minute.” 

Looking past the insanity of the situation, you had to admit you were a little impressed, even grateful, for Hizashi’s scheme. He’d saved you from dealing with Buru, at least for a little while, and made sure you had a fun time doing it. And besides, it’s not like you weren’t attracted to the man. Sure he was loud and goofy, but he was also sweet and charismatic. Not to mention a damn good lay.

“... Okay.” You say after a few moments of thought, snapping your attention back to Hizashi. “Here’s what I want to do.”

You hold up one finger.

“First of all, I want to find a bathroom and get myself cleaned up. This is a nice dress and I don’t want it to get stained, if you catch my drift.”

Hizashi nods in understanding. You put up a second finger.

“Secondly, I’m absolutely starving. So I want to get some water and food. And maybe a glass of champagne.”

Hizashi cracks a smile at that, giving a chuckle of “You got it, baby.”

“And finally,” You say, stepping forward to grab Hizashi by the front of his jacket and pull him in for a kiss. “I want to collect my prize.”

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 14

Warnings: possible body dysmorphia, mentions of past trauma and abuse

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip​

Author’s Note: I have a serious case of extremely low self esteem (thanks anon hate!) and I can’t promise when the next chapter will be out. I’m hoping within the next few days. Fingers crossed!  So I’d post the one I was holding ‘hostage’. 

“I’m not too sure about this, Des,” Esme grumbles from behind a change room door in Bloomingdales.

It’s the last stop of the afternoon before a well deserved lunch; highly praised Thai food at a restaurant near Rockefeller that Desi had to book weeks in advance. It’s been years since she’d been THAT engrossed in a shopping trip; her feet aching and her cheeks hurting from laughing so much and dozens of bags in her possession. For twelve years she’s been caught up in her role as a mother; putting her own needs and wants on the back burner in favour of always making sure the kids never went without. Even with a ridiculous amount of money in the bank, she’d never concentrated on herself; perfectly content with her quiet and unassuming life in Australia, living rather simply and not needing much more than shorts, t-shirts, a small selection of bathing suits and a handful of jeans. It feels strange to be out in something other than her normal and preferred attire; used to choosing comfort over actual style and doing little more than throwing her hair up into a ponytail or messy bun. It had been nice to experience all of that again and had found herself most missing those younger days. When she’d pass the time with hours of window shopping and mindless browsing; daydreaming about all of the designer clothes and shoes and handbags she’d one day purchase if she ever won the lottery. But back then, it had been just that: daydreaming. And she can’t help but feel slightly guilty for splurging and buying things just for the sake of having them; outfits she may likely never wear and will hang in the closet with their original price tags still attached.

It’s hard to break free of that line of thinking; easily remembering the hard times when there’d been hardly any food in the cupboards and there’d been real worry about whether the utilities would be shut off or not. When Millie was still growing inside of her and she’d been trying to adjust to her new life in a new country; living with a man she barely knew but she already was already falling madly and crazily in love with. Materialistic things have never truly mattered; never heartbroken when she couldn’t afford brand new clothes or when their little apartment was filled with mismatched second hand furniture. Despite the financial concerns, they’d been truly happy. Engrossed in a ‘honeymoon stage’ of unbridled passion and lust; finding themselves thoroughly exploring and enjoying one another’s bodies while getting to know each other. It hadn’t been the most conventional of lifestyles; two broken people finding solace and healing in one another in Dhaka, an unplanned pregnancy, and quick and hasty cohabitation. And there’d been hard times; little quirks and hangs up the other had that annoyed them, heated arguments over stupid things, lingering trauma and plenty of nightmares thanks to their harrowing experience in Bangladesh. But somehow they’d made it work; a temperamental and moody Australian and a feisty and over emotional American. Falling in love despite their often enormous differences and making something so beautiful and lasting out of almost nothing.

“I don't know if this dress is my thing,” she frets, and smooths her hands down the side of the ridiculously expensive dress. It’s far more than she’d ever imagined paying for a single piece of clothing; immediately checking the price tag and having a small coronary when Desi had shoved the garment in her direction. Money is of no concern; in a thousand lifetimes the personal bank account will never run dry, nor will there never be a steady flow of impressive income coming in. But it just isn’t who she is; a woman with her wardrobe filled with designer apparel, far more comfortable in sweats from Target and one of her husband’s ratty t-shirts. “I’m just not too sure about it.”

“What is there NOT to be sure about?” Her friend’s voice filters in from the waiting area. “It’s Herve Leger. One of his best pieces yet. And it’s fabulous and it will look even more fabulous on you.”

“It’s too short,” she laments, and tries in vain to pull the hem down closer to her knees. “I don’t have the legs for this.”

“You don’t need legs for days to slay in that dress. And Big E, I’ve seen you in shorts. I know you’ve got killer stems. You can definitely pull this off. You’re worrying over nothing.”

“But it’s too tight. Way too tight.”

Desi sighs in exasperation. “It’s supposed to be tight. It’s a bandage dress.”

“It shows my rolls.”

“Excuse you? WHAT roles? Like you have rolls. Bitch, please.”

“I’ve had seven kids. Believe me, I have rolls. I’m twenty pounds heavier than when I first met Tyler. Twenty-two, actually.”

“And does he give a shit? No. I bet he likes the curves. I don’t see him complaining. Or looking at other women. He only has eyes for you.”

“Most biased man on earth,” she mutters, and studies her form from all sides. Easily remembering what her body had looked like almost thirteen years ago; thin and toned and extremely fit. A far cry from the ‘softness’ she possesses now; dips and valleys and curves where none had ever existed before.

“Isn’t his opinion the only one that really matters? Doesn’t he find you a straight up hottie?”

“That is not the point. He could be just trying to spare my feelings, you know.”

Desi gives a derisive snort. “Isn’t he still tripping over himself trying to get into her pants every available chance he gets? Quit your bitching. You’ve got a beautiful man that worships at the temple of YOU. Now get out here and let me see you.”

“Rolls, Desi. I have rolls.”

“Bullshit. And even if you did, that dress is like a corset. All the different bands built in? They hold everything. And I doubt you have anything to hold in the first place. Don’t make me break down the door and drag you out here. I am not above creating a scene. You should know this by now.”

“Don’t you dare go full queen diva on me.”

“Oh, I will. I will kick that door in and drag your tiny ass on out here for the world to see. Desmond Brownell does not play games. He’s on a mission. And his mission is to see you in that Herve Leger. Don’t make me pull a mommy move. Don’t make me count to three.”

“I tend to go with five, but…”

“Five then. Don’t make me go that direction. Because it will not end well for you. Or me. There’ll be tears. And not on my part. And most likely security guards tossing us both out on our asses. So we do this either the easy way or the hard way. And believe me, you don’t want the hard way.”

Sighing heavily, she smooths down the back and sides of the dress and once more tries to pull the bottom closer to her knees. To no avail. It is so far out of her comfort zone; a woman that insists on always covering her bathing suit with a t-shirt and refuses to remove it. “I am going to sneak into your house at night and kill you in your sleep,” she declares, as she undoes the hook latch on the door and swings it open. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into this. Keep your eyes closed. Until I tell you to open them.”

“I can’t believe YOU don’t realize that you’re a bonafide MILF. Even if it’s not for you, how bad could it be?”

“Ever seen a sausage when you try and stuff too much into the casing?”

“Have you ever talked to a shrink? You do not look the way you think you look. What DO you see when you look in the damn mirror?”

“I see gray hair, wrinkles, and stretch marks. I see frumpy and plain and boring and just…” sighing, she steps into the middle of the waiting area and frowns at her reflection being cast in several different mirrors. “...old. I see old.”

“I think you’ve done lost your damn mind. Shred brains cell with every baby you had. Because you sure as hell don’t look old. Not even close. Can I look yet?”

“Do you want to be traumatized?”

“Do you WANT me to beat your ass? Tell on you? I’ll tell your hubby. Don’t underestimate me. Then both of us will get on your ass and then what?”

“He’s hardly a good judge. He’d tell me I look good in a garbage bag. He is proof that love IS blind.”

“He is proof that there’s good men out there. Good loyal, faithful men. That love every inch of their woman. Inside and out. You know how lucky you are? To have someone like that? Do you see anyone strong enough to drag him off? I’m sure he’s had plenty of opportunities.”

“If the thirsty housewives back home and the new neighbour had their way, he’d be getting all kinds of ass. All kinds of variety.”

“What new neighbour?”

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you over lunch. But yeah, he’s got a harem of women that would love for him to be tapping it.”

“But he loves tapping YOUR ass. And only your ass. Does he have a brother? Have I ever asked that? A gay brother by chance? Or a gay friend? Bi friend? Help me out here.”

“No brothers. No siblings at all. No gay friends. Not that I know of. But you know who WOULD have a gay friend? My sister in law.”

“I thought he didn’t have siblings?”

“Not Tyler. My sister’s wife. Shaena. She’d for sure have gay friends. And hot ones. You’ve met her.”

“Both her and your sister are fine as hell. I wouldn’t mind getting in the middle of THAT. Hook a brother up. Make it happen. I’ll be at your little Aussie Christmas. Score me a date for then. In the meantime, can I open my eyes now? Don’t leave a brother hanging.”

“As long as you promise you won’t laugh.”

“I am calling you a psychiatrist. You need help.”

“Fine,” she turns her back towards her friends, hands perched upon her hips. “ Look. But no smart ass comments and no laughing. My confidence can’t take it.”

“Your confidence needs a serious makeover. Now let me see.”

She watches through the mirror as his eyes flutter opening; slowly widening as far as they possibly can, followed by a dramatic collapse back into his seat and a hand placed over his heart.

“Fuck…” she grimaces. “...that bad?”

“That bad? That GOOD. Desmond Brownell approves. You look…” he gives two chef’s kisses. “...delicious. I’d bang you. And I have high standards.”

“I’ve seen some of your dates. Your standards are questionable at best.”

“You wound me, Big E. Mortally wound me. That…” he nods in her direction. “...was made for you. Your body is tighter and hotter than you obviously realize. Curves like a back road. And there ain’t nothing wrong with that.”

“You don’t think it’s too much? Or should I say, too little? I am forty-one.”

“Who gives a shit? You look amazing.”

“I’ve had seven kids.”

“Especially amazing for someone that’s popped out that many crotch goblins. Sold. The dress is sold. This isn’t up for debate.”

“I can’t buy something like this. It’s just...not me.”

“It damn well is YOU. I’ll buy it for you. A little extra Christmas gift.”

“A thousand dollar dress is hardly a little Christmas gift. And it’s a little pricey, don’t you think? For fabric?”

“Honey, you really need to get out of Target and up your shopping game. I know how much money you all have, I know you can afford it. I know you could probably afford this whole store. And then some.”

“It isn’t about money. It’s about me. And being out of my comfort zone. I don’t dress like this. I live on the beach. In Australia. We wear shorts and tanks and never wear shoes. Where the hell would I wear this?”

“Date night.”

“Like we have places I could wear this to. I mean, I guess we could go to Cairns. I’ve seen women in some pretty expensive clothes there. I could always talk him into a weekend away. It wouldn’t be hard. And we are going to Santorini in April.”

“That’d be perfect for Santorini. Hell, just wear it in the house. In the bedroom. Just to spice things up a bit. I’m sure he doesn’t see you dressed up very often.”

“Try like never,” Esme laughs. “Okay, maybe that’s a lie. I DO wear makeup when we go out. And cute little sundresses.”

“What about when you got married?”

“I wore something off the clearance rack at a bridal store in Sydney. Cost a hundred bucks. It was nothing fancy.”

“But you wore a little tiara and veil and all that, right?”

“It wasn’t that kind of wedding. I was five months pregnant with Millie. It was a little wedding chapel. We had six guests. It wasn’t fancy.”

“E, you’ve been robbed. You need that bride moment. What about the first time?”

“Las Vegas. Even more casual. Zero out of five stars. Would not recommend.”

“Oh no, honey. No. That’s wrong. So wrong. You deserve so much better. You deserve a big day. You deserve to be a bride. A REAL bride. Poofy white dress, little bling in your hair, fancy little shoes…”

“Seven kids and I’m going to wear white? I think not.”

“I’m having a serious talk with that man of yours. Vow renewals are a thing you know.”

“He’s brought it up. A couple of times. Which is weird, because I never thought he’d ever think of something like that. This is Tyler we’re talking about. This is a man that can kill people with his bare hands. Who has his own brand of romance. Which I love, by the way. But it’s very odd he’d bring up something like that. Getting married again.”

“Maybe he wants to see you all done up. Looking like a bride.”

“Trust me, Des. Tyler doesn’t care about that stuff. That isn’t him.”

“Maybe he’s come to care about that stuff. Maybe he’s getting a softer side to him. Or, his soft side is getting even more soft.”

“Don’t ever tell him that. He’d kill YOU with his bare hands. Do you really think I should get this dress?”

“I think you’d be stupid not to. And you, are NOT a stupid woman. Treat yourself. You deserve it.”

“You know what? I do. I DO deserve it. And I think he’ll really like it. Maybe I’ll even give him a little sneak peek later. You know, to judge his reaction to it.”

“Oh I think I know what his reaction is going to be. Don’t wear any underwear. Just let him yank the dress up and have his way with you.”

“Maybe you know him better than I realize,” Esme laughs. “Fine. I’ll buy it. But if he hates it, I am totally throwing you under the bus.”

“Alright...alright…” Desi holds his hands up in surrender. “...I’ll take one for the team. Now get your little ass in there and get changed. This big man needs to eat.”

*****

“So this neighbour you mentioned,” Desi says, as he nods his appreciation at the hostess who seats them at their table, then gallantly pulls Esme’s chair out and waits for her to sit. “What’s that about?”

She rolls her eyes. “Natalie. She just moved in a few doors down. Her and her little girl.”

“Are you talking about the blond that has the goddamn gall to wear real fur?” Desi slides into the seat across from her. “The one that needs a chisel to take off her makeup at the end of the night?”

“That’s her. The one who looks like Sephora threw up on her face. Too bad you can’t apply makeup on the inside to make something more attractive. Because she is a real peach.”

“Bottle of your best house red,” Desi requests, and then flips open the leather bound menu placed in front of him. “How’d you meet her?”

“Well, it turns out she doesn’t just have the gall to wear real fur. She also has the gall to go after married men. And in this case, MY man.”

“Uh oh. Something tells me this didn’t end well.”

“I’m very protective of what’s mine. Maybe some people would call it possessive.”

“I definitely would call it that. Not that I blame you. I’d be the same way. Hell, I’d probably never let him leave the damn house.”

“I know what a good thing I have. I know how hot my husband is. I’ve seen him naked. Many times. What’s underneath? Even better than what’s on top. And what’s on top? That’s really damn good, know what I mean?”

“I know what you mean. And I’m just saying, I wouldn’t protest if you sent me nudes of him. Our little secret.”

“My husband IS hot. And he’s beautiful and he’s amazing and he’s this walking study in masculinity. But he’s just that. MY husband. I don’t share. With anyone.”

“Tell me about it. I’ve spent three years begging you just to let me cop a feel.”

“So I don’t appreciate some thirsty female from five doors down, honing in my territory. No one is pissing in my front yard. No one. And it’s not just that I’m possessive and there’s no way in hell I’m sharing great dick, but Tyler isn’t like that. He doesn’t do shit like that. He is a lot of things, but a cheater is not one of them. That is one thing I’ve never had to worry about. He is loyal. Fiercely loyal. And he’s had his chances. If he wanted to stray, he would have. Easily.”

“Never struck me as the type who would. He’s way too in love with you. Way too faithful. I see the way he looks at you. Stars and hearts in his eyes. He definitely thinks rainbows and butterflies fly out your ass. So this Natalie…”

“They met at the park. He took Tanner there; after their morning out. And this Natalie was there. Tyler made small talk. And small talk is even exaggerating. Tyler doesn’t do small talk. Any talk, for that matter.”

Desi nods in agreement. “Took me damn near a whole weekend just to get him to say two words. That voice though? Woody. Instant.”

“Well I guess Natalie took his small talk for something else entirely. Which I don’t get, because Tyler is civil, at best. He’s just not a people person. He tries. But you know what he’s like. How he comes across. He’s very rough around the edges and doesn’t take shit and doesn’t care for formalities. He’s a man of very few words. Whatever words he said, she read way too much into. She showed up at the house. Looking for him.”

Desi looks up from his menu, a scowl forming on his face. “She did not.”

“Oh, she very much did. And get this. She made him cookies.”

“What kind of cookies?”

Esme stares at him pointedly.

“I like details. I’m detail oriented. I can’t help it.”

“Oatmeal raisin.”

“The most traitorous cookie out of them all. For shame. I’m disappointed. If you want a man to climb in your bed, you don’t lead with oatmeal raisin. Please tell me your man don’t like that shit.”

“Rest assured, he hates them and your opinion and lust for him can stay intact. But you can believe that? She came calling on my husband. She brought him cookies. And I’m pretty sure if he’d been home, she would have offered him HER cookie.”

“Probably just as nasty as the ones she makes. Probably got cobwebs and dust bunnies and all that shit. Maybe even a barbed wire fence blocking the entrance. So what happened?”

“Well, she got the cold shoulder and snarkiness from Millie first.”

“That’s my girl.”

“And then I talked to her and she was bitchy and off hand and she’s lucky I didn’t throat punch her. She had all kinds of snarky things to say. About my name, about my appearance, about having so many kids. I let her know that I wasn’t having any of her shit. That I was onto her. I told her I didn’t know what kind of married men she was used to, but my husband isn’t one of them. That he wasn’t...and never would be...interested.”

“And?”

“And she left. We fed the cookies to the dogs. Or tried to. Even they didn’t like them. Man’s best friend, indeed.”

A waitress brings the wine; cheerfully introducing herself before taking their orders. Desi waits until she leaves before uncorking the bottle and filling both glasses. Offering a toast to a warm and safe Christmas holiday and the perks and perils of love and friendships. And they’re in the middle of sharing stories of his last trip to Australia -his encounters with the both the ‘friendly neighbourhood Aussies’ and the wildlife that so freely roams and enjoys their stretch of land- when her cell phone loudly vibrates within the confines of her purse. Had Tyler not been out with all of the children and it not been a common thing to often run into some kind of issues with handling so many bodies, she would have just ignored it. And she wishes she had; frowning at the number splashed across the screen and then dropping the phone back into her bag.

“Your mom again?”

Nodding, she takes a swallow of wine. “Third time already today. Only four or five more to go. Maybe she’ll even make it an even dozen before sundown.”

“Can she not read the signs? It’s quite obvious you don’t want to speak to her. What’s her issue?”

“It’s probably easier to ask ‘what isn’t her issue?’. There’s many. So very, very, VERY many.”

“I already know about what she was like you when were growing up. I’m surprised you turned out as normal and sane as you are. It’s more than that?”

“So much more, Des. Where do you want me to start?”

“Start with the biggest one. Or most recent.”

“She hates Tyler. With the passion of a thousand fiery suns. The seventh layer of hell? I don’t think that even burns as hot as her hate for him.”

“Why? He’s a good guy. Treats you right, loves his kids. Will fight like hell to protect what’s us. Die for it, even. What’s to hate?”

“So you know how Tyler and I met. The whole ‘pretend husband and wife’ thing.”

“Yeah, to find Ovi and save him. What about it?”

“Well you also know what happened. During those five days in Dhaka. Between Tyler and I. Believe me when I say that I’m not normally like that. Spend nearly a week banging a guy I barely know. Unprotected, at that. And at the risk of too much information, Tyler was only the third guy I’d ever been with. Sexually speaking. So what happened between us? Totally uncharacteristic for me. It was unconventional. How we met. But, it worked out. We wanted more. We wanted to get to know each other. See if we could make something out of nothing. And we did. We made a life. A beautiful life. And seven little human beings.”

“And she’s got a problem with that because…?”

“After what happened on the bridge, I decided to stay. At the hospital he was flown to in Mumbai. It was touch and go and he didn’t have anyone else and if he wasn’t going to make it, I didn’t want him to be alone. He deserved better than that. And a week later they brought him out of the medically induced coma and he was breathing on his own and he woke up and he was so happy to see me. You should have seen how he smiled at me, Des. He has a beautiful smile. But that? That smile he gave when he realized I was real and I was actually sitting there? By his bed? I had never seen anything like that and I’ve never seen anything like it since. He was happy and relieved and he wanted me there. He even said he was scared to close his eyes at night because he was afraid I wouldn’t be there when he woke up.”

“He was already head over heels for ya. Guess that was his way of telling you.”

“When the hospital said they were shipping him to another back in Australia, he asked if I would go with him. By then I was already invested. I mean, it was three weeks later and I’d already spent time helping him feed himself and getting him on his feet and to the bathroom and taking him to in-patient physio and all of that. I was already in love with him. Of course I was going to Australia. It was never in doubt.”

“And let me guess, it ruffled your mother’s feathers.”

Nodding, Esme takes a long sip of wine. “She wasn’t in control. Of me. And she couldn’t stand it. Neither she or my brothers no longer had in any say in how I was going to live my life. The Esme they knew? She died on that bridge. Or maybe she was left behind. I had a chance. To make a new life for myself. And I took it. I went to Australia and I decided that was where I wanted to be. I wanted to be with HIM. So I took what money we had and I got us an apartment and he put me in charge of handling everything; medical decisions, financial stuff. And then, I found out I was having Millie. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a huge surprise because what do you expect when you spend five days having totally unprotected sex? And I told Tyler and I gave him a choice. If he didn’t want me or the baby, I’d walk away and I’d go home and I’d never contact him again. I told him I didn’t expect anything from him. And I didn’t want him feeling obligated to me or the baby.”

“That must have went over well.”

“Well, needless to say, he wanted the baby. And me. So I stuck around. I was by his side through his whole hospital stay and through all the therapy and his stint in rehab and then we settled down in our new life. And we got married and had Millie. My family? They couldn’t stand it. They couldn’t accept it. They couldn’t accept HIM.”

“All because you decided to make a new life for yourself?”

“That was it. Tyler became public enemy number one. My mom convinced everyone that he stole me away. That he was manipulative and abusive and that I was scared to leave him.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“Right? Tyler is so far from manipulative or abusive. He lived that life. He was on the receiving end of that. And he’s tried his hardest not to walk in his father’s footsteps. And believe me, he’s nothing like his old man. Not in the slightest. But no matter how much or how hard I argue, she doesn’t listen to me. She sees him as this horrible person. That took her baby girl away. And when he had the nerve to stick up for me? Against her and my brothers? That made things worse! You think they would have been happy. I found this amazing man who’s totally in love with me; who sees past all my bullshit and my ugly parts. That should have been enough for them. A guy that’s made me the centre of his universe. Who makes me happy and who I love more than I ever thought I COULD love someone. Who helped me make seven incredible little human beings. Why isn’t any of that enough?”

“I don’t know,” Desi says. “I wish I did. I wish I had the answers. ALL the answers.”

“Yet they practically idolize Mark. It makes no sense. They knew what he was like. They knew he was abusive. And they enabled him. They gaslighted me just as much as he did. And I would have left a thousand times over had they not constantly pressured me into giving him another chance. Had they not convinced me that everything was my fault. My mom stayed friends with him. Right up until he died. What kind of sick person does that? Stays friends with their own kid’s abuser?”

“You hit the nail on the head. A sick one.”

“Constantly kissing his ass and making him out to be some kind of white knight yet having all this shit to say about Tyler. They hate him because he refuses to be like them. Because he stands up to them. Because for once, someone loves me enough to have my back. That’s it. That’s why they hate him. And the things they’ve said? Especially since finding out he’s a mercenary? Constantly wishing death on him? Saying him dying would be the best thing to happen to me and the kids? Who says things like that? I almost lost Addie because of her. I came back from Ireland because I found out I was pregnant and my mom got on her bullshit and I almost lost my baby. Tyler came all the way back just to make sure I was okay. He wouldn’t have done it if he’s even a fraction as evil as they claim he is.”

“You realize it that isn’t really about him, right? That it’s all them. Because they don’t have that control. Over you.”

“I thought it would be all over and done with when we kicked my brother to the curb. I thought once he and Tyler had it out and Tyler kicked the shit out of him, that would be it. That we’d never hear from any of them again. You know how peaceful it’s been? Five years of no phone calls, no text messages, no emails. Five years of pure bliss. And now this…” she nods down at the purse sitting in her lap. “...her on my ass every day, multiple times a day. Isn’t it enough that I acknowledge that the kids received their Christmas gifts? That I showed appreciation and I said they’d send thank you cards? You think that would be enough. Our lives have been so good. Quiet and happy and peaceful. And it’s like she knows that. It’s like she knows how good things are and just has to screw it all up.”

“Normally I say just ignore them. Just wash toxic people out of your life and keep them out of your life. But if she’s as determined as she is, it’s only going to get worse. She won’t stop trying to get a hold of you. And as hard as it’ll be to talk to her, that might be the only way to get her to stop. Let her know. Say ‘thanks, but no thanks’.”

“I can not allow her back into my life. OUR lives. I can’t allow any of them back in. I will NOT have my kids surrounded by that ugliness. I will not have people around them that talk shit about their father. Because you know what? I know he’s not perfect. I know he has his issues. He’s the first one to admit it. But he is an amazing dad and he is totally devoted to those kids and they love him beyond all comprehension. And I won’t allow people to talk about him like that. I won’t allow them to break my kids’ hearts…” her voice cracks with emotion, and she takes a swallow of wine to clear away the lump sitting square in her throat. “....I won’t let anyone talk about Tyler like that. He’s not a perfect man, but he’s a good man. And he loves me and he loves his kids. He saved me, Des. In every way a person can be saved. And I won’t let anyone disrespect him like that.”

“Tell them that. Tell them EXACTLY that.”

“I have. I have said it until I was practically blue in the face. They don’t care. They say I’m ‘defending my abuser’. In what alternate universe is he considered an abuser? He has never...ever...raised a hand to me. He’s always said he’d kill himself before he ever let things get that out of control. That he’d never be able to live with himself if he even thought about hurting me like that. And maybe in a way, I DO understand some of the way they think. He’s lived a hard life. A violent life. First the military, then as a mercenary. Yes, he’s killed people. With his bare hands. But he’s never done it because he wanted to. Or because he enjoyed it. He did it because he HAD to. Because it was either him or them. He is not a monster. Regardless of what they think. Or even he thinks sometimes.”

“You’ve never been scared of him?”

“Never. And you know what? If he WANTED to, he could do some serious damage to me. He could kill me. No question about it. But that thought has never, ever crossed my mind. I’ve never been afraid of him. Not even at his worst. When he went back to drinking all the time and abusing the pain meds and we fought constantly. And yeah, there were times he DID lose it. Where he put a fist through the wall or grabbed me trying to stop me from walking away or trying to calm me down and talk some sense into me. But I’ve never been scared of him. Because even at his worst, I knew he loved me. I knew none of his issues were about me. That was him and his brain and not knowing how to cope. And they just don’t get it. They think he’s somehow frightened me into sticking around. That he’s been forcing me to have children. Because it somehow keeps me around.”

“Sounds more like they have the issues. Not you guys.” Desi reaches for the bottle of wine, refilling both their glasses.

“We’re not perfect. And Lord knows we have had some really shitty times. Where we didn’t think we were going to make it. But you know what? We did. We fixed our shit and we made things work. We both busted our asses to change. And he still busts his ass every day to make up for all the bad. We work at it, Des. Every day we work at it. Because we love each other and we both know what it's like to be from a broken home. And we won’t do that to our kids. We won’t let them grow up like that. So we work at it. And it hasn’t been easy. But there’s been more great times than bad times.”

“You two are strong. What you got is strong. No one can deny that. I’ve seen it. With my own two eyes.”

“I will not let my family ruin us. They tried. And in Colorado, they almost succeeded. But we got away. We moved back home. Our REAL home. And we never looked back. I won’t let them destroy things for us. Not when we’ve worked so hard to get where we are.”

“You’re going to have to deal with her, Esme. She isn’t going to go away. Not from what I’ve seen.”

“And I will. I WILL talk to her. After Christmas. I just want to get through the holiday. I just want things to be happy and peaceful. Especially for the kids. I don’t want anyone ruining Christmas for them. Once it’s over and things calm down, I WILL talk to her. But right now? I can’t do it. I just can’t.”

“It’s all going to be alright,” Desi assures her, and reaches across the table to give her hand a comforting squeeze. “Everything’s going to work out.”

“Tyler isn’t perfect. He’s the first one to admit that. In the same way I’m not. But you know what? We’re perfect for each other. And in the end, that’s all that matters.”

*****

When she arrives home she finds the three littlest fast asleep; tightly snuggled together on the area rug in front of the Christmas tree and covered by the knitted throw usually draped over the back of the sofa. Saju and Mac nap close by; curled up together in front of the front of the fireplace and merely blinking their eyes in a form of acknowledging her presence. She can hear Millie and Alannah upstairs; giggling and chattering, their feet stomping overhead as they play a dance game on the XBox. The three oldest boys are out in the backyard; laughter drifting inside as they hide behind ‘fortress’ walls and lob snowballs at one another. It's rare to see the three of them enjoying time together. Tanner normally not comfortable with the more raucous play and choosing quiet time; up in his room reading a book or writing stories or building intricate lego scenes in front of the fireplace.

She stands in the sunroom and watches them; smiling at how jovial and lighthearted they are. Their faces bright and happy; no cares in the world aside from the balls of snow and ice being tossed in their direction. Despite everything they’d been through, they’re spirits so brilliant and bubbly, continuing to love the world and everyone in it. Tanner and TJ (along with Millie) are able to remember the more difficult times in Colorado and being whisked to Mumbai under false pretenses; told they were going on a family vacation only to be sent back to Australia without either parent and then told their father very well might never come home. They still talk about it from time to time; how scary it had been to be away from both mom AND dad and how worried they’d been when they thought their daddy may never make it back to them. They’re able to vividly recall visiting him in the hospital; the scars and bruises on his face that had been in various stages of healing, the sling keeping his badly wounded and surgically repaired shoulder in place, the ‘cage’ that had encased his right thigh, the tremendous amount of weight and muscle he had lost. It HAD been traumatic; more than two months without their father under the same roof and seeing him so wounded and vulnerable.

They’d needed their own therapy; the trauma manifesting itself through moments of rage and aggression and troubles sleeping at night. A child psychologist recommended to them by Doctor Klein had done them all a world of good; disguising therapy with music and play and helping them express their emotions and their fears. And within six months they were back to their old selves; grades climbing and their social skills improving, the rage and aggression diminishing. It still haunts them from time to time; a fear that returns whenever daddy has to leave home for work. But for the most part they’ve healed exceptionally well; full of energy and light and humour and possessing enormous amounts of compassion and empathy.

She finds Tyler in the main floor office; a central area of the main floor that had been the previous owner’s sewing and craft room. It’s close enough to keep an ear out for the kids; able to hear them both inside and out. And a security system enables him to keep an eye on any area of the house; live images cast back to the flat screen television mounted on the wall above the desk. Five years years ago she would have called him paranoid for insisting on such measures. Overprotective, even. But that was until someone had gotten close enough to Addie to steal a stuffed animal right out of her crib. Had the culprit wanted her, she would have been long gone in the middle of the night. And they most likely never would have seen her again. The terror of that night is still very real; the thought of someone reaching across her tiny body to take something so simple in the course of sending a very clear message.

After that, Esme had vowed to never call him paranoid or overprotective again. Evil had gotten too close. WAY too close. And she now understands his fierce and rabid determination to do whatever it takes to keep his family safe.

She watches him from the doorway; intently working at the computer. Admiring the glasses perched upon his face and the lines of his profile; the strong, stubbled jaw and the curve of his lips and the bump in the bridge of his nose. The scars that had long ago become part of him. Marring the left side of his forehead and by his left eye; old wounds that he’d possessed when they’d first met. A handful of others have been added since then. The edge of a metal shovel cutting wide and deep; the scar travelling from the very corner of his right eye and up his forehead and snaking up into his hairline. And the ones left behind from Nathan. The one above his eyebrow thin and faint, the one below his eye much wider and jagged and stretching all the way to his temple. That one had been the worst; deep enough for the knife blade to hit bone and cause irreparable damage to nerves and muscle. And while most would see them as blemishes and flaws, she sees it as adding to his beauty; souvenirs of not only a hard and dangerous life, but of survival.

“Hey,” she greets as she wanders into the room. “What’cha doing, handsome?”

“Just some shit that came up. I would have ignored it, but…”

She stands at the back of his chair. Fingers and thumbs rubbing at tense shoulder muscles before wrapping both arms around his neck; leaning over him and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, followed by his temple. “Everything alright?”

“Koen ran into some issues. On the job he took. Not going as smooth as we’d hoped it would. Just had to send him some extra cash. And put him in contact with someone who could get him some extra gear.”

“He’s alright though? He’s not in any trouble?”

“He’s fine. Nothing he can’t handle. I know I said I wouldn’t bother with work stuff until we go back home, but…”

“Sometimes it can’t be helped. It’s the nature of the beast. It isn't the most predictable of careers. I’m glad to see you survived your day out with the spawn. Is your sanity still intact?”

“What was left of it. I don’t know how much I had to begin with.”

“I also noticed all seven AND Alannah made it back. Success.”

“They were good. No trouble. They all behaved themselves. Shockingly.”

“Your feral offspring all behaving at once? Hell must have frozen over.”

He gives a small chuckle, then turns his face into her and presses a chaste kiss to her lips. A frown tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pulls back to look at her.

“What’s that look for?”

“Why do you still have your hat on? It’s fucking boiling in here.”

“It’s part of my surprise. I have something to show you.”

“Yeah?” A slow grin begins to spread across his face. “I’ve already seen you naked. Many times. Not that it’s not awesome each time it happens. I’m not complaining.”

“As much as I’d love to just drop my clothes right here and rock your world, it’s something else. I did something. While I was out.”

“New ink?”

“Nope.”

“You got something pierced, didn’t you. Something naughty. Something very naughty.”

“You wish. Those days are long behind me. But it is a surprise. And I want you to promise you won’t freak out. When you see it.”

“How bad is it? Usually when you tell me not to freak out, it’s pretty fucking bad.”

“It’s not bad. It’s just...surprising. You ready?”

“Is it a good thing I’m already sitting down?”

“It’s probably for the best. Turn your chair towards me and close your eyes.”

“Esme…”

“Tyler…”

“What the hell have you done?”

“Just do it. Humour me. Please.”

“Fine.” Turning his back towards the computer, he closes his eyes. “This isn’t where you tell me you want to try pegging is it? Because I thought I’ve already made it perfectly clear that there is no fucking chance of that happening. EVER.”

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it’s nothing sexual. Get your mind out the gutter, sheesh.”

“I’m sorry, have we met? It permanently lives in the gutter.”

“Never mind viagra. Maybe they can give you something to calm your dick down.”

“You’d miss it. Don’t deny it. It would hurt you just as much as it would hurt me. Are we going to do this surprise sometime today or…?”

Removing the knit beanie from her head, she tosses it out the desk and then runs her fingers through her hair. She feels naked and exposed; the dark tresses that had once reached the middle of her back now shorn and styled into a side parted, sleek bob that skims her earlobes. “Promise you won’t freak out.”

“I promise I won’t lose my shit.”

“Okay...open them...but remember, no freaking out.”

“I don’t know what the big deal is. If it’s nothing dirty or kinky or piercing of some kind…” His eyes flutter open, then slowly widen as the reality of what’s before him sets in.

“You hate it don’t you.”

“I don’t hate it. I just...wow...that’s...NOT what I was expecting.”

“You do, don’t you. Hate it. I knew you would. You always hate when I do something with my hair. Like when I decided to get bangs.”

“In all fairness, I didn’t hate them. I just wasn’t a fan.”

“But you HATE this? This haircut. You hate it being so short, don’t you.”

“Actually…” he slides the chair closer to her and lays his hands on her hips. “...I love it.”

“Yeah?” A smile replaces the nervous frown. “Really?”

“Really. I wouldn’t lie to you, Me. That’s not who I am. Not anymore, anyway.”

“You sure you like it? You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?”

“I think you look beautiful. It suits you. You got this cute, tiny little face. Your hair shows it off. I really do love it. You look amazing.”

Placing her hands on the sides of his face, she leans down to kiss him. “It was time for a change. Something different. Something I didn’t have to spend hours on when we go out. You’re sure? One hundred percent? You really do love it?”

“I do. You look beautiful.” Laying a palm on the back of her head, he pulls her down into a kiss. And she laughs into his mouth when his free hand latches onto her hip and she loses her balance and topples into him. “You’re beautiful, Me. Always.”

“I really was worried you wouldn’t like it,” she says, as she settles herself sideways on his thighs. “So you’ve made my day. My year, actually.”

“It suits you. You look amazing, baby. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Speaking of making my year, I’m about to make yours.”

“We’re talking about butt stuff, aren’t we.”

“No!” she laughs, and playfully tousles his hair. “I mean, maybe later. When the kids are out.”

“Where are they going? You banishing them to the backyard?”

“Desi offered to take them.”

“All of them?”

“Every last one. Even Alannah. He’s going to take them out for dinner and to Central Park. To see Santa and the reindeer. Maybe do some skating. And then, he’s going to take them to his place. They’re going to have a camp out. In the living room.”

“So we get the house to ourselves? All night?”

“All night,” she confirms. “And well into the morning. You know what that means?”

“Butt stuff.”

She sighs in exasperation. “I means you don’t have to wait until New Years Eve for wild and crazy AND noisy sex with your wife.”

“We might have to tone down the noise. The kids will be right next door. They could still hear us.”

“That’s a fair point. So noisy is out. But wild and crazy are definitely in.”

Tyler grins. “I can do wild and crazy.”

“Oh, I know you can. You’re a master at it. A master at anything sexual, now that I think about it. Man, did I ever luck out. Landing you.”

“I don’t know, I think I’m the lucky one. Girl like you putting up with my shit? You’re one in a million, babe. No doubt about it.”

“I love you,” she says, pressing a kiss to his ear and then nuzzling his temple with the tip of her nose. “More than you could ever know. And thank you. For being you. And for loving me the way you do.”

Smiling, he turns his face into hers and places his lips to her brow; a hand coming up to comb through her hair, palm settling on the nape of her neck. “You’ve made it pretty damn easy.”

[samsoleil]

9 and 10?

ask game

V I am sending the most fond vibes in your direction I hope they make it there okay!!

10. Your favourite season and why.

Honestly? Either S2 or S11.

Season 2: Sam has psychic powers and Dean is terrified that his brother might actually be bad, but is still ride or die for him. This is where we can see their relationship flourish without the search for John hanging over their heads. But y'know what does hang over their heads? John telling Dean he'll either have to save Sam or kill him, and Sam who is desperate to be saved and willing to be killed. And then!! when Sam dies!!! Dean saves him in the worst possible way!!!! Also, it's visually gorgeous. You've got the high contrast vibes from S1 but slightly less desaturated and you've still got the grainy film texture. An excellent time.

Season 11: Listen. I still think it should have been Chuck sending Sam visions. And I don't particularly care for the B plot. But Sam and Dean peak in this season for the first time since pre-s4 and it was amazing. It's the immediate aftermath of Sam literally unleashing  "a force on the world that could destroy it" to save Dean. Codependency at its peak. And in two mid-season episodes they absolutely nail the S2 energy. I mean, establishing beyond any doubt that Dean loves Sam? And then making him think Sam is dead in the very next episode? Where Sam is also the dictionary definition of BAMF? Not to mention, Sam is just. so understanding of Dean and his messy feelings about Amara. Love that for them.

9. What episodes best encapsulates the brother’s relationship? Does this change throughout the series? Doesn’t have to be the best episode btw.

To answer the second question, the brother’s relationship very obviously changes throughout the show. It’s obviously very codependent from the get go (especially from Sam’s perspective! Literally unendurable), and it varies in toxicity. Some seasons they are very soft! Some seasons I want to shout at Sam to run for the hills and never return. And then there are some episodes in seasons where their relationship is literally awful that are wonderfully tender (like 08x21 when Dean says “You gotta let me take care of you, man”). 

Imo, S1-3 are peak brothers. S4/5 are excellent to watch but not the most tender. S6 is on thin fucking ice. S7-10 are, generally speaking, when I would absolutely be willing to kill a man (Dean), but are still SO compelling because these crazy kids are devoted and have no moral boundaries when it comes to the other. S11 is a return to the good stuff! I haven’t seen the seasons after that but from what I have seen, Sam becomes a Dean apologist and Dean just gets worse. But they’re still codependent, so that’s fine. “You were gonna leave and you weren’t even going to tell me?” and “What about me? Would you trade me?” are baller lines. Sam is a grown man but he’s out here saving the world by being Dean’s baby brother. Iconic of them.

OKAY so. First question. I originally had several episodes per season but I have to limit it to 2, this is going to be too long otherwise. Also, as you well know, I've only watched up to 12x06, so I won't include S12 here. 

Episodes (and explanations) under the cut!

Obviously, both 01x01 Pilot and 15x20 Carry On. Literally the perfect bookends for this show. I don’t need to elaborate.

01x05 Bloody Mary - Has the moment where Dean actually has an emotional conversation with his brother, because he’s switched on to Sam’s emotional needs. He was willing to let Sam blame him for Jess’ death so that Sam didn’t blame himself! And near the end it has the iconic line "You're my brother and I'd die for you." Dean, right? No! It was Sam!! Anyone with any sort of reservations about whether Sam cared about Dean in early S1 can refer to this episode. It’s episode 5!! of the whole show!! and it has that line!!

01x11 Faith - Sam has absolutely no regrets about someone dying to save Dean's life. In retrospect, this episode says a lot about how much Sam loves Dean.

02x01 In My Time of Dying - Sam can sense that Dean is there, either through psychic powers or because they are soulmates. Both are good. Also, Dean is told that he may have to kill Sam, which influences their dynamic for the rest of the show <33

02x21 All Hell Breaks Loose Part 1 - Dean, on his knees in the mud, telling Sam's corpse that it'll be okay and screaming his name. That is all. Also, after thoroughly chewing out a victim earlier in the season for selling his soul to save a loved one, Dean sells his soul to save a loved one. 

03x08 A Very Supernatural Christmas - Sam decorated a Christmas tree with pine air fresheners to give Dean a Christmas. Obsessed.

03x11 Mystery Spot - Dean dies repeatedly, then dies for good for about 6 months, and Sam becomes a ruthless hunter in order to bring him back. Dean spends longer dead in this episode than he actually does at the end of S4.

04x14 Sex and Violence - Dean's siren is literally just a version of Sam that is devoted to Dean and would do anything he says. 

04x22 Lucifer Rising - Bobby coming for Dean's life. The VOICEMAIL!! Dean acting as though them being family is a cure-all and saying he'll beat Sam up, but also apologising. I'll take it. And then, of course, the voicemail Sam hears, which is more or less what Dean said in 04x04, and that being what tips him over the edge. The edge, of course, being killing Lilith to avenge Dean’s death, which has been his quest since the end of S3. Excellent.

05x16 Dark Side of the Moon - Ohoho. This episode. You know why this episode is here.

05x22 Swan Song - Same as the above! Dean who doesn't have a plan, just doesn't want his little brother to die alone. Sam, who fights off the devil himself and (essentially) kills himself to save his brother and the car they call their home. That memory sequence, for me, gave Sam the power not to save the world, but to save his brother. The world was just a bonus.

06x11 Appointment in Samara - "Dean doesn't care about me, he just cares about his little brother, Sammy, burning in hell. He'll kill me to get that other guy back." Dean's anger at himself for screwing up and forfeiting Sam's soul was. a lot. Also, Sam begging for his life and Dean just continuing anyway? Horrific. But very testament to their relationship at this point. Dean wants Sammy back and he WILL kill this other guy to do it.

06x22 The Man Who Knew Too Much - Sam being right about the consequences of having his soul put back in. And "You know me. You know why. I'm not leaving my brother alone out there."

07x03 The Girl Next Door - I was tossing up between this and 07x02 but. this has some flashbacks to past Sam!! Unfortunately, it also has Dean punching Sam for using the Impala, the car they both rely on to get around. And Dean murdering Sam's childhood friend for killing rapists. This isn’t an episode that makes you think “Awh, they’re codependent!”, it’s an episode that makes you send Sam vibes screaming at him to get out.

07x14 Plucky Pennywhistle's Magical Menagerie - Ever think that maybe Sam fears clowns because he associates them with being abandoned? Also, nostalgia vs reality.

08x09 Citizen Fang - The voicemail from S4 is still hanging over our heads. Dean asking “Does that sound like the Benny we know?” and Sam replying “I don’t know Benny.” Dean keeping Benny away from Sam because Sam is apparently the one who will kill monsters with no nuance or remorse. But this episode is on the list specifically because of how pivotal the line "Yes, I do – too well. In fact, every relationship I have ever had has gone to crap at some point. But the one thing I can say about Benny – he has never let me down." is in absolutely wrecking Sam's mental health down the road!

08x23 Sacrifice - For obvious reasons! “You know what I confessed in there? What my greatest sin was? It was how many times I let you down!” and then Dean’s speech of blatant lies. It sounded good, though. Dean really is that devoted, but unfortunately he has amnesia.

09x01 I Think I'm Gonna Like It Here - Autonomy violation. This is what advanced care directives are for. Dean being so dependent on Sam that he would violate his autonomy and trick him into consenting to possession. Dean will do anything to keep Sam alive, including destroy Sam.

09x16 Blade Runners - The parallels between Colette and Sam are unbearable. “Drop the blade.” Also, Dean becomes SO feral when Sam’s cheek gets cut.

10x19 Book of the Damned - Sam’s speech! “But I can’t do it without my brother. I don’t want to do it without my brother. And if he’s gone, then I don’t….”

10x24 Brother's Keeper - Ahahahahaaa. Sam kneeling down in front of Dean and letting him kill him, if he wants. Dean not doing so. Please do not emulate this relationship in your real human lives.

11x04 Baby - Obvious reasons. Also, the perfect example of how these two communicate. Dean clearly states his opinion so that Sam has something to base his arguments around, and then Sam provides his perspective. That meta about how Dean and Sam communicate and how Sam is the major decision maker opened my eyes. Impeccable takes.

11x16 Safe House - The thing Dean loves being Sam (and Sam being genuinely relieved that it was!!). Sam propping Dean’s sleeping body against the fridge while saying “I got you! Stay with me.” Him cradling Dean in his arms and patting his head and Dean being SO confused but not fighting it.

11x17 Red Meat - Okay, I lied about the 2 per season thing, I just needed all three of these episodes. They are too good to not include. Dean joking to hide how scared he is for Sam? Being willing to let all three of them die just because he thinks Sam is dead? Attempting/committing suicide to try to bring him back? Sam fighting through immense pain to get back to his brother? This episode is so good. They are absolute lunatics (affectionate).

[allycat-writes]

Enchanted (Doctor Strange x OC)

A/N: Do I think really anyone except Shay cares about my OCs? Absolutely not but!!! I love her so, not really worried about it. I had a lot of fun writing this actually! Pre-Doctor Strange movie. Sort of a prequel to my Juliet Taylor main-story that I still need to actually write oops. Very loosely based off of another Taylor Swift song (of the same name) because it’s me writing it so of course it has to be. As always, thanks to @unknownauthor​ for reading everything and letting me yell about how much I love both Juliet Taylor and Cassidy Cooper and encouraging me to make this an oc thing instead of a reader thing!

Warnings: Probably swearing, hints of adult content, casual mention of previous deaths/murder, also alcohol mention.

Word Count: 1,441

As usual, likes are alright but reblogs!!! Are!!! So unbelievably amazing!!!

(Not my GIFs)

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“Do you have to outshine me at every event you attend with me?” Juliet turned back to the reporter, a camera hanging around her neck.

“How else am I going to find a wealthy neurosurgeon to marry and buy me nice stuff?” Cassidy snorted, shaking her head.

“Ah, I see. What happened with that ex-Marine?”

“Oh, that’s a story for another time, my love. Not the most proper conversation for such a swanky event.” Cassidy laughed, lightly. “So why does the New York Bulletin care about…what the fuck even is this?”

“It’s a Neurological Society dinner, Jules, try and keep up. I don’t know, something about a ‘society’ page of something," Cassidy sighed with a shrug. She raised an eyebrow at something just over Juliet’s shoulder and Juliet turned to examine what her friend had caught sight of. She sighed when she spotted an older gentleman making a beeline for the pair, his cheeks flushed, probably from alcohol if Juliet’s suspicion was right. Cassidy slipped on a fake smile, brushing a curl behind her ear. Juliet wrapped her hands around the camera, hoping to hide her annoyance at this man she hadn’t even spoken to yet. Juliet examined the rotund man, his hair a wispy, thin, and graying tuft on his otherwise balding head.

“What a delight to have such lovely girls here tonight! Who do you two belong to?” the man bellowed, wrapping an arm around each woman. Cassidy laughed, the sound calm to anyone who didn’t know her as well as Juliet.

“Ourselves,” Juliet replied, her voice icy. Before the man could open his mouth to reply, a voice behind Juliet made him stop in his tracks.

“Doctor Morce, I hadn’t seen you yet. Come on, we’d best be getting to our seats before they start without us. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Juliet turned, her eyes locking on the newcomer’s eyes, his eyes stormy and gray. Juliet could detect just the slightest hint of tension in his smile as he feigned friendliness towards the older gentleman.

“Doctor Strange! What an honor to see you again, my boy! Where’s that lovely girl of yours, what’s her name again?” Juliet noticed Doctor Strange stiffen just slightly at the question.

“Doctor Palmer couldn’t make it tonight but she sends her sincerest regards, I assure you. Let’s be off now and leave these ladies to their work. They have a very busy night ahead of them, I’m sure.” Juliet relaxed as the man, his hair jet black except for the silver beginning at his temples, started ushering the portly Doctor Morce away.

The younger man, Doctor Strange, glanced back once they were a safe distance away and Juliet mouthed a quick “thank you.” Strange winked at her before taking his seat at the table, Morce moving farther down the table to his spot. Juliet wrapped an arm around Cassidy to try and still her best friend’s slight shaking. “You alright?” Cassidy seemed to snap out of it after a moment and gave Juliet a bright smile, tinged with regret. “Remind me to chew out Ellison when I see him next.” Cassidy sighed.

“I have to do shit like this to be able to write the things that actually matter. I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”

“Yeah, made that mistake before. So now I’m gonna spend my entire life worrying about you until Murdock gets his head out of his ass and comes crawling back to you.” Cassidy rolled her eyes, glancing back at the table.

“That doctor was very handsome.”

“Morce? Nah, not my type.”

“Why on earth would I be talking about him? I’m talking about the young one. Doctor Strange.”

“I don’t know, it feels like something’s missing. Maybe it’s facial hair?”

“What? You usually don’t care about that.”

“I know! But I think facial hair would look good on him. He sort of reminds me of…an otter, maybe?” Cassidy laughed, shaking her head.

“Regardless, it would seem he can’t take his eyes off of you,” Cassidy murmured, gently nudging Juliet’s shoulder. Juliet glanced over to find his eyes trained on her and she raised an eyebrow, smiling coyly.

“How old do you think he is?”

“Enough.”

“Maybe he’s just prematurely graying? Besides, the gray is kinda doing it for me. Like a silver fox.”

“I’m gonna say that’s just your daddy issues in play.”

“I mean, if anyone would have issues with father figures, or lack-thereof, it would probably be me. I think that’s a fair reason.”

“You mean your father getting far too drunk and killing your mother? Yeah, definitely valid.” The corner of Juliet’s lip turned up into a half-smile, her eyes still focused on Strange. He only broke eye contact when the man to his left leaned over to ask him a question.

“But did you see the way he reacted when Doctor Portly brought up his lady-friend? I’m gonna assume that’s a recent falling out and that’s way too messy for what I want.”

“You’re still enchanted by him. I know that look on your face. It’s actually the one you reserve solely for Chris Pine.”

“Ah, Chris Pine. Now that’s a fine man. And what if I am enchanted by some enigmatic stranger who saved us from dealing with some creepy old man with a little too much liquor in his system? That at least earns him a little gratitude.”

“I know exactly what kind of gratitude you would like to show him and I kindly ask that you do it on your own time. The only reason I invited you because I feel sorry for you. Like, really? ‘Woman finds Theodore Roosevelt on apple seed’? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You’re a good writer, Juliet. Why waste your time there?”

“Because not everyone has connections like you do, Cass. I have nothing, just a couple of probably, most likely dead parents who were nobodies and whatever money I can scrape by writing shitty articles like that. I want to get my place somewhere based on my writing, not based on the fact that my best friend is ‘an heiress with parents taken tragically too young, a former bright spot within the Manhattan socialite’s club.’ And so far, this is about as much as I can get.”

“Regardless, your talent means you deserve better. And you’re missing the main point of this. I don’t want to get kicked out and cause a scandal because you decided the best way to show that ‘enigmatic stranger’ your gratitude ends with you on your knees in some secluded hallway.” Juliet laughed.

“Do you really have so little faith in me, Cassidy? You think I’d actually get caught?”

“Juliet. I’m serious.”

“So am I. But if it makes you feel any better, cross my heart and hope to die. I promise I absolutely will not get caught on my knees at this swanky event for a bunch of egotistical neurosurgeons who believe they’re god or whatever.”

“I’m still not convinced that you won’t but if you ruin that new dress, I will never speak to you again.” Juliet snorted.

“Yeah, good luck with that. You’d be bored out of your mind without me.”

“Who are you here for?” Juliet turned back at the voice, the same low voice that saved them before.

“I’m Cassidy Cooper, reporting for the New York Bulletin. Doctor Strange, was it?” Cassidy stuck an arm out to shake his hand. Strange smiled, taking Cassidy’s hand in a light shake.

“Yes. I’m Doctor Stephen Strange. I'm a neurosurgeon at Metro-General.”

“Really? A neurosurgeon at a Neurosurgeon Society dinner? I thought you would be a podiatrist.” Cassidy elbowed Juliet and Juliet grinned. Stephen’s eyes flashed over to her and the faintest trace of a smirk appeared on his lips.

“Superb deduction, Sherlock.”

“Well obviously, Watson.” Stephen grinned and Juliet held out her hand. “Juliet Taylor.”

“Charmed, I’m sure,” Stephen replied, taking her hand. Stephen released her hand after a moment as a man came up behind him and clasped him on the shoulder.

“You’re on, Doctor Strange.” Stephen nodded, giving the man a smile.

“If you’ll excuse me, ladies. I hope you enjoy the remainder of your evening.”

“You, too, Doctor,” Cassidy replied with a soft smile. Juliet smiled, raising an eyebrow at Stephen as he glanced back at her.

“See you around. Doctor.” Stephen smirked slightly before nodding. He turned on his heel and Juliet grinned.

“You’re honestly ridiculous, you know that right?” Juliet shrugged, raising an eyebrow at her best friend.

“Doesn’t matter. It won’t be the last time I see him.”

———————————

Permanent Tag List:

@angeleyesmalek

@mezzomercury

[queen-scribbles]

A Likely Story

For @pillarspromptsweekly​ #13. Roll For It the Third. I got Edér, runaway, and attraction. Naturally, this means writing Tavi being a filthy scheming shipper re: him and Charity.

Patience had never been Tavi’s strong suit. This was responsible for a large percentage of the fights she’d gotten in in her life, several grudges she could’ve avoided, and also was why she was currently wandering around Dyrford rather than helping Edér with dinner. In her defense, he had kicked her out(sort of); it wasn’t as if she’d abandoned him or anything. And it was the nicest she’d ever been kicked out of anywhere; a heavily hinting ‘Maybe you’d have more fun if you went for a walk’. Recognizing that her overabundance of energy was testing even Edér‘s near-infinite patience, Tavi saw herself out and started a meandering path to catalog how much Dyrford village had changed since his election as mayor.

There were definitely more people.  Edér had wasted no time once he was mayor “borrowing” Raedric’s strategy of offering new settlers free land. Given that he was a much kinder leader than Raedric had been, it worked like a charm. And more people meant some of the more dilapidated buildings were repaired for use, business and trade picked up, and the economy was improving. Right now it was only incremental progress, but it showed promise of continuing for the foreseeable future.

“Hey, lady, look out!”

Tavi instinctively hugged the side of the building she was passing, just in time to get out of the way as two children--an orlan and a dwarf--barreled past in pursuit of a large, runaway wooden hoop. She watched them run, noting with amusement the hoop got further away with every second, the children’s short legs no match for gravity.

That’s not going to end well, she thought to herself. as she resumed meandering. But it was good to see children. There hadn’t been many on her first visit to the village.

As she passed the temple of Berath, Harbinger Beodmar waved a greeting from the front steps, and Tavi smiled as she waved back. This used to be considered the outskirts of Dyrford, but now that all the property was being settled and cultivated, the town’s western border extended another couple miles.

Charity’s land is out this way. The thought was a random one, but it made her grin, and Tavi’s meandering turned suddenly purposeful.

Charity was working in her garden, hair pulled up in a messy bun, and waved when she saw Tavi approaching. “Hey there, Watcher. You visiting our esteemed mayor again?”

“I was,” Tavi laughed. “Then I got bored and started bein’ a fuckin’ nuisance so he kicked me out.”

“Wow, you actually found the limits of his patience,” Charity said with a chuckle.  “Though I have to say, kicking someone out doesn’t sound like Edér.”

“It may have been more.... suggesting I burn off some energy by going for a walk,” Tavi conceded, leaning against the split-rail fence. “He’s makin’ something time-consumin’ but delicious smellin’ for dinner an’ I don’t have the patience to help.” She grinned. “Hey, you wanna join us? From the look of things, there was way more than he an’ I can eat, and I know he enjoys your company.”

Despite Tavi’s best effort to make the phrase sound innocent, it looked like Charity still blushed faintly, streaking dirt across her forehead as she swiped at loose dark red strands. “You sure? I feel like he’s probably seen enough of me recently.”

“Nah, he won’t mind,” Tavi promised. “It takes a lot for Edér to get tired of people. ‘Cept Durance, but we all got tired of him pretty quick. Hey, if I can pry a little,” she tucked her hair behind her ears, “how’d you an’ Edér actually meet? He didn’t give me a whole lot of details.”

“Oh, well, it was back when I first moved here.” Charity patted the earth around the last of the flowers she’d been tending and stood, dusting her hands on her pants. “There was a really big stump over there-” she pointed at a patch of ground now covered in sprouting vegetables- “that I couldn’t get out by myself. And believe me, I tried. When there was a tree attached, I probably wouldn’t have been able to get my arms around the bastard. I’m no weakling, but that stump was not moving for one person. Still gave it my best shot, ‘cause I can be awful stubborn when I want to be, then went to the tavern to try an’ drown my sore muscles and complain.” She chuckled. “He was sitting nearby, overheard me grousing, an’ offered to help.”

“Sounds like Edér,” Tavi nodded. “Figures he’d still wanna help everyone individually, even as mayor.”

“See, I didn’t know he was the mayor,” Charity said with a sheepish laugh, twirling a loose lock of hair between her fingers. “New to town an’ all. Wasn’t til we were halfway through choppin’ out the damn roots; someone walkin’ by said Mornin’ Mayor Teylecg an’ I almost dropped my mattock.  Edér waved it off, said he liked doing this kind of work and I was good company, that he wouldn’t have offered if he hadn’t meant it. It took us almost all day to get that damn stump out. In the course of talkin’ we realized we were both Eothasian, which led to more talkin’ and then to us building a little chapel on my land.”

“Yeah, that he mentioned on my last visit,” Tavi nodded, shifting position when a splinter dug into her arm. “Speakin’ of visitin’, I really am positive he won’t mind if you have dinner with us.”

Charity hesitated, clearly tempted. “When were you planning to eat? I’m something of a mess right now.” She gestured at her dirt- and sweat-streaked clothes.

“Oh, I’m sure there’s enough time for you to clean up,” Tavi said with a mischievous smile. “After all, Edér already hasta either come find me or wait ‘til I wander back. If I wander back with a guest, I doubt he’ll complain. ‘Specially if it’s you.”

This time, Charity definitely blushed; her olive complexion doing little to hide it even as she ducked her head. “Well, alright then. You can come in and make yourself at home while I make myself presentable.”

>O<

It wasn’t a long wait, but it did give Tavi enough time to notice the hints of who Charity was sprinkled through the front rooms. From the lighting via a single lantern in the center as a nod to her faith to the half-full bookshelves to the shield and flail mounted on the wall.

“Are you combat trained?” Tavi asked idly, raising her voice to ensure it carried. “I thought you were a farmer. And priest.”

“I am,” Charity replied, over the sound of splashing water. “I did a stint in my local militia just before I hit my twenties. Kept up the skillset, enough to take care of myself, anyway. When I... left, I did a bit of adventuring before I settled down here. Priests who can defend themselves are in high enough demand, most folk didn’t care if I worshipped a dead god. Long as I don’t get too preachy.”

“Nice for you,” Tavi said, studying the flail and shield. They were both good but standard quality, and the painted metal shield had plainly taken a beating. “What made you decide to leave?”

“Home didn’t want me anymore, so went lookin’ for a new one,” Charity said. She emerged from her bedroom clad in a clean shirt and trousers, face and arms clear of dirt streaks and hair tied in a ponytail rather than the earlier bun. “It’s a pretty common backstory for an adventurer.”

“Sorry for pryin’‘,” Tavi said, feeling just a tad sheepish for being so nosy. “My curiosity gets the best of me sometimes.”

“Happens to everyone, and I don’t mind,” Charity assured her. “Now, let’s get going. You’ve piqued my curiosity about this dinner.”

Tavi buried a smirk as she followed her out. Yeah, sure. Dinner’s what you’re interested in. She kept the thought to herself, however, and the women simply made small talk as they headed back toward the main part of town.

>O<

Tavi was right. When she walked in and announced she’d brought a guest and hoped that was alright, Edér spun around, grinned at Charity, and grabbed an extra plate.

“More the merrier,” he laughed. “Besides, there’s no way Tavi and I can eat all this food by ourselves. Hope you like boar.”

“Only thing better is a good venison stew,” Charity replied, a matching grin curving her lips.

“Woman after my own heart,” Edér nodded appreciatively. “That was the plan for tonight, but the deer must’ve been on to me; couldn’t find a damn one when I went huntin’ this mornin’.”

“I’m sure you’ll outsmart them eventually,” Charity joked. “But for now, boar’s fine. Tavi said you were preparing it some special way?”

“Yeah.” Edér vanished briefly into the kitchen for a carving knife. “There’s this glaze I learned about, honey and some other stuff, that I wanted to try. But you gotta put it on in thin coats, and watch it while it cooks slow to make sure it doesn’t burn.” He shot Tavi a teasing grin. “Watcher didn’t feel like helpin’ with that part.”

Tavi shrugged. “I have better things to do than watch fuckin’ meat cook, Teylecg.”

“Like kidnapping dinner quests?” he teased.

“I just asked,” Tavi defended, laughing. “There was no kidnapping involved!”

“That’s true, she did just offer,” Charity backed her up.

“Thank you,” Tavi said emphatically. “So, let’s see how well this takes-forever-to-cook boar of yours tastes.”

It tasted delicious. Not enough so that Tavi would ever cook it herself, but she did want the recipe for the cook at Caed Nua. But she had another question she was far more keen to get answered, one that had been bothering her for a while. “Anyone give either of you trouble for bein’ Eothasian?”

“It’s not like I go around blabbin’ about it, Tav,” Edér pointed out, swiping his thumb along the edge of his plate to collect glaze drippings and then sucking it clean.

“No, I know,” Tavi said. “But you don’t exactly go out of your way to hide it, either. So I’m just curious if Dyrford treats you any better than fuckin’ Gilded Vale.”

He shrugged. “Anywhere would be better than Gilded Vale. I’m sure there are rumors, some people less than happy about it, but most are willin’ to overlook it for free land.” He smiled sardonically. “No one’s said anything about hangin’ me yet, so that’s a good sign.”

Tavi laughed. “Sure is. I’d hate to hafta fight a whole fuckin’ town to save your ass.”

“Aw, you’d do that for me? That’s sweet.”

“Anything for a friend,” she said with a grin. “How ‘bout you, Charity? Anyone callin’ for your head?”

Charity smiled faintly, and shook her head. “The people next to me are from Aedyr, so they wouldn’t care. But most of the time when folk pry I just say I’m a former priest, which is true. I’m not actively serving as a priest; I’m a farmer, and militia volunteer, but not a priest. They don’t need to know I still worship Eothas, just privately.”

“But no one get suspicious of the amount of time of you two spend together? I mean, the rumored-Eothasian mayor and the “former” Eothasian priest?” Even as she spoke, an idea struck Tavi that made her fight to bury a grin. “For all the jokes out there about  farmers and such bein’ slow on the uptake, they ain’t stupid.”

“‘Preciate the vote of confidence,”  Edér drawled. “What’s your point?”

Tavi shrugged. “Didn’t have one, just idle curiosity. But I have an idea on how you two could avoid raising suspicions...”

“I’m all ears,” Charity said, pushing her plate away and picking idly at the handle of her tankard. “Not that I think there are suspicions, yet, but if we can avoid them altogether, that’s for the best.”

Tavi bit her lip to keep from smirking, her gaze flicking from Edér to Charity and back again. “You could court her.” Berath’s bony ass, she’d expected Charity to blush at the suggestion; the woman clearly had it bad. She hadn’t expected  Edér to turn the color of a ripe tomato as well. “Just pretend,” she added hastily before one of them spontaneously combusted from the heat radiating off their faces. “Y’know, just for show. If people think you’re romantically involved, they won’t give a second thought to you visitin’ each other s’much.” They were still both staring at her like she’d grown a second head, so she rolled on. “For fuck’s sake, I’m not sayin’ you hafta stick your tongues down each other’s throats in the town square. Just... hold hands in public occasionally.  Edér, bring flowers every so often when you visit her. Hel, I’ll help you pick good ones. You’re both nice people, who’re friends an’ already spend time together-” A lot of time together... -”It shouldn’t be that hard to pull off.” She grinned as their matching stunned expressions both turned thoughtful. “Someone give me some feedback, here.”

“It... could work,” Charity said slowly, after a healthy pause, playing with the end of her ponytail as she glanced at Edér. “But I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything...”

“I don’t,”  Edér assured her, running one hand through his hair. “It makes more sense’n anything I could come up with, that’s for sure.” He scratched his beard and grinned at her. “Long as you don’t feel pressured.” 

“No, no, it makes sense to me. And she’s right, we do get along and spend time together as it is. This ruse shouldn’t be too hard to keep up. I-If you wanted to try, I mean.”

Edér smiled-almost sheepishly-and cleared his throat. “Well, then. Charity, I would like to ask permission to pretend to seek your hand.”

“And I will grant you permission to permission to pretend to seek my hand,” Charity giggled, matching his smile.

They were both, Tavi couldn’t help but note, still blushing faintly. “Well,” she said, pushing back her chair and reaching for empty plates. “I’ll clean up while you two work out the details.” She as moving before either of them could protest.

It took a lot of willpower to wait until her back was turned to let out the smirk, but Tavi let it stay the entire time she was in the kitchen.

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

This is gonna be my first time writing fake dating, and it’s already fun. :3 There will be more. (also, I spent like ten minutes internally debating if there were tomatoes in the Dyrwood for Tavi to make that comparison, and then decided I don’t care :P)