shopiqat

[hockeyshmockey]

the grudge

summary: in which olivia verstappen can't get over the things her family put her through so easily. max verstappen x sibling!oc

warnings: angst, mentions of neglect and abusive behavior. this is F I C T I O N I just needed to write angst with this song, so forgive me and don't consider any of this fact!!!!!

Olivia Verstappen had been through more in life than many of her peers. Yes, some would say she lived an extravagant life with her father's former career as a driver. Most people saw the nicer houses, the way she and Max had nicer machines than some of the other kids.

What they didn't see was the constant tension in their home. The way their mother had given the two of them to their father for major custody after he yelled, holding in her flinches as she gave in. The times her and Max were punished after an unsatisfactory result in a race.

As a child, Olivia had idolized her big brother. She wanted to go to his races, her mother humoring her, and one day she ended up behind the wheel. When her father saw the way she could almost keep up with her brother, the dollar signs started flashing. And so for a few years, Olivia imagined a dream where she and her brother ended up in Formula 1 together, the first brother and sister racing line up.

It only took about five years until things fell apart. Max and Olivia were with Jos full time, and the mans behavior was getting worse and worse. There were times after a race when Max would win, and Olivia would come second (even racing up in the next age group), and their father would scream at Olivia as Max watched his sister in silence.

Olivia always contemplated calling her mother and asking her to come for her on those nights.

And I try to be tough, but I wanna scream How could anybody do the things you did so easily?

When she was 13, Olivia went to the race track to practice before the first kart race of her season. The owner of the track had seemed shocked to see her, saying he had no equipment ready for her as her father had never called to register her for the upcoming season. Olivia had pedaled her bike home (because Jos could not be bothered driving his daughter the two miles out of the city to the race track), trying to calm the rage in her veins.

Max and her father were watching a race in the living room when she came inside. "You didn't sign me up for my karting season?" Olivia asked with barley a quiver in her voice as the two males looked at her.

"You aren't good enough," Jos said with little care, shrugging as he turned back to the tv. "I'm not spending money on a kid who comes in second place. It's a waste. You're a waste."

Her father didn't see, but Max could clearly see the way Olivia's lip quivered. Tears gathered in her eyes, but the girl took a deep breath, straightened her spine and nodded. She turned on her heel, headed into the bedroom and packed a bag.

That night, she did call Sophie and ask to come home. That would be the last time she would see her father for 6 years, and the beginning of the demise of her relationship with her brother.

And I doubt you ever think about the damage that you did But I hold onto every detail like my life depends on it

"Mijn liefje," a knock came on Olivia's door in her and her mother's apartment while she was getting ready for her graduation from University.

Two years of hard work, and Olivia was graduating with a degree in mechanical engineering. She already had an internship lined up with the Williams' Racing team while she pursued her secondary degree in Engineering and Aeronautics at Oxford.

At her heart, racing was still one of Olivia's passions. And while her opportunity to pursue it as a driver had been ruined by Jos, her heart for the sport remained. And so she had taken the jump, applying with Williams' Engineering department using her mothers last name. Her father was notorious on his own, but with Max now at Red Bull, she wanted to feel as if she made this entrance into the world of F1 on her own merit.

"Ja?" she said as she opened the door to her mother's strained smile. "What's wrong?"

"Your sister just got here," Sophie explained. "But she's brought your brother."

After Olivia left Jos and went back to live with Sophie, she had tried so hard to keep her relationship with Max stable. Her brother was one of her favorite people in the world. But when he had come to see them for the first time after the move, the older boy hadn't been happy to listen to anything Olivia had to say about her choice to leave.

In Max's mind, Olivia had given up. Their father had given her a test, and she had failed. Never did he consider that as hard as Jos was on Max, it was a two fold on Olivia who could never live up to her prodigy brother.

And so over the past 5 and a half years, Olivia and Max hardly saw each other. And when they did, it was clear things were different. Max was resistant to hear Olivia out or try to see things from her side, and Olivia decided to stop trying and just wear a brave face.

"Oh, okay," Olivia shrugged. She didn't know why Vic had brought Max, but the women walked out into the living area to see the two blondes sitting. Victoria leaped up and wrapped her arms around her little sister.

One of the best things to come out of Olivia's return to Sophie's custody and home, was her newfound relationship with Victoria. Living together had brought the two girls closer than before, and Vic was there when Olivia's mental health had been in the toilet after having to talk with Jos over the years.

"Olivia," Max cleared his throat and nodded as Victoria and Olivia pulled apart.

"Max," Olivia half smiled, clasping her hands together to hold back from wrapping her arms around her brother. "I didn't expect you today."

"I didn't know you were graduating," Max said, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice.

"I sent an announcement to you and Dad," Olivia furrowed her eyes, Sophie nodding as she had helped the younger girl address the cards.

"I never got it," Max's lips thinned. "I didn't even know you were in school."

"Let's be honest, when have we talked in the last five years long enough for you to ask," Olivia scoffed as her mother put a hand on her shoulder.

"And you're working at Williams?" Max ran his hands through his hair. "Why are you working for them? They're not a winning team, you should-"

"I don't need to hear that Max," Olivia said calmly. "I don't need to hear about how what I'm doing isn't enough for you, or for our father. Don't worry, he reminds me enough every day for the whole fucking family."

"Olivia," Sophie said sharply as Max looked to her in shock.

"Dad said you two hadn't spoken in a few years," he said.

"No, he calls me about once a month to remind me what a failure he thinks I am," Olivia smiled weakly as Victoria looked at her with pity in her eyes. "It wasn't enough what he did to me those years ago, he's got to make sure he leaves a lasting impression, just in case I ever feel like I'm moving past it all."

I have nightmares each week 'bout that Friday in May One phone call from you and my entire world was changed

Two years pass. Job interviews are had, and it's with the last name Kumpen, that Olivia gets a job with Red Bull Racing after completing her Masters degree. She had spent a season working under the strong female presence of Hannah Schmitz and the legend Adrian Newey, learning more than she ever thought possible, and watching her brother fight and win his first championship.

After the season had ended, Max and Olivia had retreated to Monaco for a few weeks before Olivia would return to the factory for in person work. Jos had come to spend a weekend, and Olivia had put things aside to join him and Max for dinner.

"You know they only hired you because of Max," her father said after they had finished their salads and were waiting for their main course.

"Excuse me?" Olivia asked wide eyed. "They didn't know my last name was Verstappen until a month ago."

"You think they're that stupid?" Jos laughed as he sipped his drink and Max looked away, refusing to meet Olivia's eyes.

"Max?" she asked with dread in her heart.

"I'm sorry," Max shook his head as he watched his sister's heart shatter in front of his eyes. "I mentioned it to Christian. But I knew you would be such an asset. I wanted you on my team."

"More like he didn't think you could get hired somewhere else," Jos scoffed. "F1 isn't for losers. For complainers. You've never had-"

The man was cut off by Olivia standing up. "No," she said lowly. "You don't get to do this to me. You don't get to try to make me feel like this anymore. As far as I am concerned, I am not your daughter. Lose my number, forget me, I don't care. But I never want to see you again."

With that Olivia gathered her bag and walked out of the restaurant. She went to wave her arm for a taxi when she felt a hand encircle her wrist, yanking it free and whipping around to glare at her brother.

"Olivia please-" he began to plead.

"No," she shook her head. "No. I'm done. You knew. I really thought you finally understood how I felt. But then you do this. You take this accomplishment that I was so proud of. I was so proud to think I had finally proved myself. That little girl who was screamed at every time she wasn't good enough. Told she would never amount to anything, I finally felt like she was healed. And you just fucked that up for me."

"Livvy it wasn't like that," Max fell into the use of his old nickname for her. "Please. You did get this job on your own. I promise. Talk to Christian ok? Let him tell you-"

"No Max," Olivia sighed. "No. I can't do this anymore. I really thought this was what I needed to feel healed. To fight with you and win, to get a championship and know that was a way to fulfill my dreams. But being around him every day, being around him at all, thats not something I can do anymore. And as much as I know you see it more now, I don't think you'll ever be able to get out from his thumb and from the weight of his expectations. I love you, but that's not something I can put myself through any longer."

"Livvy what does that mean?" Max asked as she turned back to the street and hailed a cab. "Please. Will I see you in England in a week? Please."

Olivia looked back at him with a sad smile before climbing into the waiting car.

Yeah, I'm so tough when I'm alone, and I make you feel so guilty And I fantasize about a time you're a little fuckin' sorry

"Max, have a good off season?" the reigning world champion was asked in his first media day of the 2021 season.

"Yeah mate," the Dutchman smiled. "Got some good relaxation in. Spent some time in the sim. It was good, but I'm glad to be back." The interviewer asked a few more standard questions out of the way before he dropped the bomb.

"So, we got some information in during testing but things have unfolded since and we wanted to bring it up with you." At the interviewers lead in, Max got hesitant and his media officer creeped closer, ready to intervene.

"It's come to our attention, that your little sister was a Junior Strategist with Red Bull last season," the interviewer asked.

"Ah, yes," Max nodded. "That was her first season with us after she interned with Williams."

"Of course," the man nodded. "Quite impressive, getting to work with Hannah Schmitz and Adrian Newey. Interning with Williams, advanced degree from Oxford. That is some talent."

"It is," Max said proudly. "She's been a star, and I've been so thankful to have her with the team."

"So what do you think about her signing a contract to join Mercedes for the next three seasons to work with Lewis?"

But even after all this, you're still everything to me And I know you don't care, I guess that that's fine

It's 2024.

Things were reversed. In 2020, Olivia had watched wistfully as Max had stood on top of his car, pumping his arms as he won his first WDC. In Abu Dhabi 2024, Max was watching from the second step as Lewis held up his trophy that had won the man his eighth World Championship.

Max held his breath as he looked to the side of the stage as Mercedes sent up a representative to gather the trophy for the constructors. To his surprise it wasn't Toto heading onto the stage, but his baby sister.

His breath stalled in his chest as Lewis and George both hopped of their podiums to wrap their arms around Olivia. His sister had the biggest smile on her face as she accepted their embraces before turning to the officials, and shaking hands as she made her way to the fourth step and the trophy waiting for her.

Three years at Mercedes had turned Olivia into a rising star. She was the second seat on Lewis' pit wall, making several calls that season that had led to Lewis securing a strong lead in the WDC standings. Toto and the team always sang her praises, and Max knew Red Bull regretted the situation that lost her to their biggest rival.

As the British National Anthem began to play, Max caught his sister's eye and smiled, sending her a nod. The girl smiled with her eyes, but he knew things weren't the same.

She wasn't ready to forgive, and she wouldn't ever be able to forget.

It takes strength to forgive, but I'm not quite sure I'm there yet

[oliviablancmom]

"Pedriiii - Part II"

Pairing: Pedri Gonzalez x singlemom!Oc

Theme: fluff, angst

N/A: And here is part two, I hope it lives up to your expectations. I would like to thank each like, comment, reblog, and ask about this imagine. I'm happy that you liked it as much as I enjoyed writing it, and I love seeing your reactions. Again, this chapter turned out huge, but I needed every part to make sense. I hope you enjoy it and fall a little more in love with these three.

Warnings: Men being inconvenient in this chapter, people making a child cry.

Pedri was in a mood; he was training alone in the academy because Gavi did him a favor by opening up to the entire team about his meeting with the woman from the nightclub, who turns out to work for Barça. And now all of the guys were messing with him, especially after Gavi spilled about the ring that was shining on her finger. Seriously, Gavi needs to return playing ASAP because Pedri can't deal anymore with the boy gossip phase.

"Are you sad today?" The little boy asked the player, taking his attention from the movie he was watching on his iPad. "I can bring M&Ms for us; Mom put some packages in her purse, I think she's sad too," he says pouting.

"I'm fine, buddy, just focused. But why is your mother sad? Did something happen?" Pedri asked curiously. In one of the many conversations he had with the little boy, he discovered that the little boy's mother worked for the team, but Pedri hadn't had the opportunity to meet her yet.

"I don't know; Father is supposed to take me this week. Then he screams at her and then at me, and they fight." Pedri swallows the knot in his throat as he sees the little boy's eyes watering; something hurts inside him for seeing the little boy like that.

"You know, those M&M's we were craving for, we finally get to have them," he says in an attempt to cheer up the little boy.

"No way, for real??" He jumped excitedly, and Pedri smiled at him.

"I swear. I'm going with Gavi after the training to get them." Pedri fixed the cap on Axel's head.

"You guys aren't going to eat them without me, right?" He pointed the finger at Pedri, trying to make an angry face.

"What, of course not? I'll bring them for you tomorrow, and also, I wouldn't eat them with Gavi; I'm angry at him," Pedri says as he starts to get his things ready to leave the academy.

"Why?" Axel asks curiously.

"Because he has a big mouth," the boy gasped, looking at Pedri.

"So he would eat everything," Axel says, worried, and Pedri laughs at his reaction.

"Yeah, something like that, buddy."

*****************************************

"Axel, I swear, it's been days since the last time I gave you candy; you shouldn't be this energetic," Isa asked as she watched her child jump from one chair to another. The boy stops, with a little smile on his face, and then back to his jumping games. Isa looks suspiciously at her child.

"Axel..." She calls, getting close to the boy. "You didn't eat any candy, right?" She holds the boy, stopping him from jumping anymore. He looks at her, his head tilts to the side, and a mischievous smile emerges on his little face, the dimples in his cheeks showing up. "Axel Harver," she says unbelievably as she starts to tickle him, his laughs getting louder and louder.

"Mom, stop. Please stoooop, Moooommy." She lets him go, letting him catch his breath.

"Little boy, little boy. I already told your grandfather not to give you too many candies." She kisses his head.

"It was for my friend; I couldn't let him eat alone," the boy said simply, and she smiled at him. Sometimes she couldn't believe how smart he was for his young age.

"No, you couldn't," she smiles, looking at the time on her watch; it was time to go home.

"Get your things; it's time for us to go home." The little boy ran to get his bag.

"Can we stop by Pops?" He asked excitedly.

"Of course, it's been two days since the last time you saw him; you guys are probably getting sick already," she says ironically at the boy, who had his grandfather on his little finger.

"He says that I could start Barça school after my birthday, so I'll be a La Masia boy, mom." The boy says excitedly as they walk towards the parking lot. He and his grandfather had been planning that moment for over a year; the excitement of both was evident. Honestly, Isa was still insecure about the idea of him wanting to be a player; she was too jealous for that, and modestly aside, her son was adorable, he would definitely get some attention. "You think I could play with my friend?" She looks down at her son.

"Well, probably, he's going to Barça school too?" She asked, as she had heard more than once about this friend of his.

"No, in the first team," he says simply. She looks confused at him.

"Well, I think it would take time for you both to be there; maybe you even change your mind about being a player." Her boy made a disgusted face.

"Axel, you are having so much attitude lately."

"But he's already there," he ignores what she is saying. She stops, looking at him.

"Wait, in the first team? Your friend?" The boy nodded happily. "The friend you spend the day with?" He nodded again, as his little eyes focused on something behind her.

"Are you befriending the players?" She asks, but she doesn't get his attention, as he seems to focus on the thing behind her before she can turn to see what he's looking at. He snaps out of his trance.

"Pedriiii!" he screams, and he runs away from her. She was pretty sure that her eyes were going to pop out as she heard the name. She then turned to see where her boy was going, catching a glimpse of him jumping excitedly into the player's arms.

"You've got to be kidding me," she says to herself.

*****************************************

"That friend of Aurora's is really into you," Gavi says to Pedri, who rolls his eyes. "You should give her a chance."

"I'm not interested; she's not my type." Gavi smiled wide at his friend, ready to comment, but was cut off by the boy who jumped at Pedri.

"Hi Pedri, hi Gavi." The little boy high-fived the two players.

"Hey little guy, no Gavi shirts today?" Gavi asked, getting an eye roll from Pedri.

"No. My mother said I should wear other clothes from time to time," he says with a sad smile, receiving a laugh from both players. "Are you going to get my candy?"

"Yes, I will. Are you here alone?" Pedri asked worriedly. He was used to meeting the boy alone inside the training center or the stadium, but the thought of the little boy running alone by the parking lot gave him shivers.

"Nooo, with mommy, Silly," he says, laughing as if Pedri had told him the funniest joke. Before Pedri could look around to search for the child's mother, his senses were clouded by the familiar scent of perfume that had been stuck in his mind for the past few days.

"Axel, what have I told you about running away from me like that? You can't let go of my hand on the street," the woman said in a sweet yet reprimanding voice.

"I know, Mom, but I had to talk to my friend," the little boy says in an even sweeter voice as he hugs the woman's legs. Pedri was absorbed in their interaction, while the woman's eyes stared at him. He simply couldn't believe it.

"Hi, Isa. Cute kid you have; now I can see the similarities," Gavi was the one to break the silence.

"Thanks, Pablo; he is the cutest." Pedri saw her eyes shine proudly as she looked at the boy, and honestly, Pedri felt dizzy.

"Hey, Pedri. I need to take my mother home and take her to a place," Gavi calls for Pedri.

"Ok, Let's Go! Bye Axel," Pedri wave a quick good bye to the little one, ignoring his mother.

"NO! You can't come, it's personal," Gavi says almost desperately, getting an intrigued look from Pedri.

"Gavira, I spent months taking you to every place; you owe me," Pedri says feeling annoyed as he watches his teammate head to his car.

"Sorry, brother. Ask one of the boys."

"We can take you!" The little voice says behind him. "Right mom, right? We can take him, pleeeease, we can take him, riiiiight?" He says as he jumps, pushing his mother's blazer, whose face was getting red.

"I don't know, we are going to Pops, and he probably doesn't want it."

"Of course he wants," Gavi says almost screaming.

"Aren't you leaving?" The three ask at the same time to the youngest, who looks amused as he gets in his car, leaving the parking lot.

"So you're coming with us, right? Right, mommy?" The woman only nodded, taking the kid in her arms and heading to her car. Pedri follows right beside them; he watches as she puts the little boy in the car seat.

"Axel, stop moving," she murmurs at the chatty boy. Once she finishes fixing it, she takes a step back, expecting to close the door, but ends up bumping into Pedri, who was holding the door. With a push, he closes the door, trapping Isa between him and the car. He takes a breath watching her beautiful face, but then he remembers something that was bugging his mind.

"Is your husband coming with us?" He says in a hushed tone just for her to hear. She opens her mouth to reply but nothing comes out; she brushes past Pedri and gets into the car. Pedri runs his hands through his face; he would kill Gavira.

"Aren't you getting in? We are late," she says annoyingly after rolling down the car window. Pedri grumbles and heads for the passenger door.

*****************************************

There was so much tension inside the car, of course imperceptible to the little one who chatted incessantly in the back seat, telling things to his mother, asking questions to Pedri, and singing along to the songs playing on the radio. Despite the many conversations he had with the little one, Pedri hadn't realized how talkative he was; perhaps the presence of the other players made him feel shy. Pedri returned to his conversations with the boy, noticing the mannerisms he had and now could see how much he resembled his mother: the sweet way of speaking, the sweet and welcomed smile, the dimples on his cheeks when he smiled. Pedri was feeling something strange; the presence of the woman clouded his feelings.

"Pedriiiii," Axel's voice snapped his attention back. Pedri turned in his seat to face the younger one.

"Yes, buddy?"

"Mommy is talking to you." The child pointed to the woman driving. Pedri redirected his focus to her, who glanced at him briefly before returning her attention to the road.

"You didn't tell us your address," she said calmly, the velvety tone of her voice sending shivers down Pedri's spine.

"Um, actually, you can drop me off at this store downtown," he showed her the address. "My brother will pick me up there."

"We can drop you home."

"No, I don't want to cause you any trouble," he couldn't help the sharpness in his tone, and he saw the woman wince and just murmur a little and almost inaudible 'ok'.

After a few minutes, they arrived at the candy store.

"Wait here for a minute," he told the woman, hurrying out of the car as quickly as he could to retrieve his order from the store.

*****************************************

"Oh my God, he's really going to get them," Isa looked at the back seat, seeing her son looking outside where the player walked towards a store, a fascinated look on his face.

"What, Axel?" She asked curiously, not used to Axel admiring someone else like that; normally, he was a shy child around strangers.

"Our candies," he said excitedly. "The ones we wanted but couldn't find, with different flavors."

"Did you ask him?" She turned to look at him, trying not to sound like she was reprimanding him.

"No, he wanted them too. And since I'm his friend, he's going to share them with me, because he likes me, Mom, he really likes me." Isa felt her throat tighten, and her eyes filled with tears. Words could hurt, especially when said to a child. She didn't know what to say to him, but the little boy's excitement comforted her heart.

"Here, buddy, we finally got them," the player gets into the car, snapping Isa out of her thoughts; she silently watches their interaction and how happy her son is. "Are you taking them to practice tomorrow?" Pedri asked as he stroked the child's cheek.

"YEEEEES!" Axel shouted excitedly.

"Alright, see you tomorrow then!" He said smiling at the little boy and then turned to the woman beside him. "Thanks for the ride."

"Thank you for this," she said honestly. "You have no idea what this means." The player furrowed his brows in confusion and then exited the car.

*****************************************

The feeling of returning to training with the rest of the team was a great relief, especially when there was the possibility of returning to play soon. Pedri felt ready; the medical department had already cleared him to drive, but they still wanted to postpone his return to the fields. And as eager as he was, he wanted to follow the guidance of the professionals. But still, knowing that he could return to playing soon gave him extra motivation in his recovery.

Pedri was eager to share the news with his little friend, who longed for his return even more than he did himself, but it had been almost a week since the last time he saw the boy. He wouldn't admit it out loud, but he missed the boy running to meet him after training. He thought about asking about him to the boy's mother, but every time he saw her, the ring gleamed on her finger. Pedri didn't want to make a big deal out of it; after all, it was a one-night stand, but he couldn't deny that he was affected. The remnants of that night were vivid in his mind, and knowing that the woman was committed spoiled the images for him.

"You know, for someone who wants to seem indifferent, you're terrible at hiding it," Gavi whispers beside him as they watch the woman approaching with the film crew.

"Hello, boys," she says with a sweet smile.

"Hello, Isa," Gavi greets excitedly and nudges his friend to do the same, but Pedri just nods slightly, which seems to frustrate the woman. She kept her gaze on the player's face, reading every detail as if searching for an opening to say something.

"Here are your lines," she says after a few minutes of silence, handing over the cue cards with the ready-made phrases they needed to record for the Barça One promotion. "It'll be quick," she says, moving behind the man handling the camera, and soon the rest of the crew went to prepare the players.

Gavi was the first to record, while Pedri amused himself watching. Gavi hated these kinds of activities, so something that could normally be quick ended up taking longer because of him. Pedri's attention is stolen when his eyes fall on the woman, who is watching the recordings while making some notes in a notebook and speaking to the cameraman. As if sensing Pedri's eyes, she turns to face him and then walks slowly towards him, stopping by his side.

"You said you didn't know who I was that night," the player says quietly so only the woman can hear him. She looked back at him, her confidence in facing him as if challenging him bringing back memories.

"Are you talking to me now?" She asks in an ironic tone. "And I never said I didn't know who you were, I just said I didn't care," she says convincingly, and there it was, the sharp tongue and tone from that night, the player thought.

"That's not how it seemed, just like the part about being married," Pedri smiles proudly having retorted in the same tone, but the woman's furious look makes the smile disappear.

"It's not like that, and if you didn't keep avoiding me every time I show up, you'd know," she turns her attention back to Gavi's recording.

"You just had to say 'Hey, I have a husband,' it's not that hard," he says as he moves away from her."

*****************************************

Isa didn't want to go out that night, in weeks like that she gets in a terrible mood, there were right and wrong days, and that was a wrong one. But her work friends were eager for a night out , and they kept saying how good it would be for her since she was an ocean of anxiety. So there she was, sitting in the bar watching her friends dancing excitedly, she didn't want to go dance, not yet at least, she still wasn't feeling at her best to enjoy the night like that.

"Hey doll, can I buy you a drink?" A man comes to her side, she looks at him uninterested.

"No, thanks," she says simply, backing at watching her friends.

"C'mon, it's just a drink." He holds her arm getting close to her face.

"I don't want it." she says firmly.

"Oh, don't play hard to get," he touched her hair. "you are too pretty to be here alone." He insisted with a flirtatious smile.

"She's not here alone." The familiar voice cut before she could answer the man. "Take your hands out of my girlfriend" he says in a warning tone, making the woman gasp, Isa looks around to see if there are eyes on them, but for their luck, no one is paying attention.

"You? Her boyfriend? No way." The man laughs looking at Isa. "Aren't him like one of the Barça kids?" Isa saw Pedri's face turning red, and before he could answer she took him by the waist, getting him away from the inconvenient man.

****************************************

The moment he saw the woman enter the bar, he just knew that he shouldn't have accepted Ferran's invitation to the nightclub. Because from that moment, his attention were on her, just like the first night. He tried his best to try to look uninterested, he even tried to speak and dance with a girl who was in their VIP area. But his eyes kept stealing glances at the woman, and the moment he saw a man on her side, he made his choice, going right into her.

He didn't have the time to answer the man who called him a kid, he had an answer for that, a good one that Isa herself could confirm, but her hand putting him away was distracting, the power she had over him was driving him crazy.

"Barça would end us, especially me, if I let the image of one of their golden boys get messed up because of some nightclub confusion" Pedri looked at the woman's face, her big brown eyes were soft and just like always, were mapping all his face.

The people around them didn't seem to notice who he was especially how they weren't dancing to the rhythm of the music playing. Pedri's hand was over her waist going up and down, she passed her manicured hand by her hair and the action made the smell of her perfume travel to his nose, automatically he bent down to her neck, smelling her inebriated perfume, like someone addicted. The woman was blinding his senses. He thought that the remaining images of their night, which kept playing as a movie in his mind were just the carnal feeling of a good night, but now he was afraid that it was something more, since the fact that only the idea of watching her gets all his attention, and we're everything about her, literally everything.

"Let's get out of here" she murmurs in his ears.

He didn't answer, he only took her by the hand to get out of the club.

That's how they ended up in the hotel room again, they didn't talk, the actions of the desire were speaking for them, Pedri was tasting every piece of her, like a starving man, like it was the last thing he would do. And deep down he thought that maybe it was the last thing, cause a noise kept ringing in his mind, remember him about the ring on her finger. And that makes him snapped at realization, he took the woman's hand who was holding his hair as if she depended on it, and there was no signal of the commitment. He kisses her hand then her mouth, and then all over her breast. She kept murmuring and saying things he couldn't understand, her face was all messed up because of her red lipstick, and he was sure he had the vestiges in his face too.

"You remember what you said to me that night?" He asked her, her eyes looking at him with such intensity that he felt at his chest. She smiles, her cheeks getting more red.

"That you should stop flirting with me 'cause i was hard to forget." She said with a lazy smile as she kissed his face.

"Well you were right"

"I am always right, I said that too, when you call me an arrogant, knowing-all b*tch."

As Pedri was to answer, the woman's phone rang, she picked it up from the bedside table, and the name "Henry" showed on screen, making Pedri rudely distance himself from her. She rolls her eyes as she answers the call, and soon her face turns pale, Pedri watches her with worry.

"What happened? Baby..." She gets up from the bad, "Do not cry, please, don't cry. Mommy it's going to pick you up, my Axel." Her choked voice and the mention of the name make Pedri stand up and approach the woman, who was trembling nervously.

"Let me talk to someone," she says, Pedri stops in front of her. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH HIM? HE IS JUST A CHILD!" she screamed sterically, her voice full of pain, making Pedri holding her arms, and try to calm her down. "That always happens, every time, he's just a baby, and every time you guys do this to him." She goes silent for a moment, Pedri felt his heart beating so hard that he could hear the thuds echoing in his ears. "I'll go get him" she says firmly, " I don't care how late it is. I'm not leaving my son like this." She ends the call and then throws the phone on the bed, her hands covering her face as she collapses and cries uncontrollably. Pedri embraces her, his chest full of concern for the woman and the little boy.

"Isa, what happened? Is Axel hurt?" he asks.

"I need to go," she says, stepping away from the player.

"I'm coming with you" She pushed Pedri away.

"No, you're not, you don't need to." She says coldly.

"I'm not letting you go anywhere alone, not in this state," he says firmly as he gathers their things around the room. Isa looks at him with apprehension and suspicion. Pedri couldn't understand her action. He holds the door, waiting for her to leave the room, and then she huffs in frustration and follows him outside.

Once in the car, Pedri gives her his hoodie that was in the backseat of his car, as thanks to him, the woman's dress was ruined. He drives to the address she had given him, the journey in complete silence except for the sound of the woman typing incessantly on her phone. As they arrive at the destination, Isa takes a deep breath and then looks at the player.

"Pedri, please, promise me, no matter what you see or hear, you don't leave the car, understood? Or you'll make things difficult for me." The desperation in the woman's voice made Pedri's stomach sick; not knowing what was happening was making him desperate. "You'll make things difficult for Axel," she says before he could say anything. And, reluctantly, Pedri agrees with the woman, as he would never do anything to harm the child.

He watches as the woman gets out of the car and rushes into the yard of a house, calling out for Axel. A blond woman emerges from the house and points a finger at Isa. They engage in a heated discussion, but he cannot hear their words. Then he sees Isa push the woman and hastily enter the house. Everything falls silent for a few minutes, and his heart races so fast that he wonders how he hasn't had a heart attack yet. After a few minutes, he sees Isa emerging from the house, holding Axel in her arms. She walks briskly towards the car, with the blond woman following her, screaming insults. Isa quickly jumps into the car with Axel, and the back door closes behind them.

"You can go now," she says, and Pedri turns around to look at her. Her face is red from crying. Pedri starts the car and drives away, not knowing exactly where to go, but deciding to wait before asking as Isa is talking to Axel. "It's okay, love. You're okay now." She says in a calm voice, trying to calm down the little boy.

"I don't want to come back, I don't want to stay with them, they're all mean to me," he cried so hard that Pedri stopped the car, deeply concerned for the kid, as he had never seen him cry like that before.

"You don't have to, Mommy promises you won't go back there, at least if it's something you want." Pedri turns to look at them, observing the woman wiping the tears from the little one's face and giving him a tight hug. Their eyes meet, and Pedri sees so much pain in hers.

"What's going on? This is tearing me apart," he says as he gestures towards them.

"Pedriiii?" Axel spun so quickly to look at the player that Pedri feared he had snapped his neck. He leaped from Isa's arms to the front seat and hugged Pedri tightly. Pedri simply held him back, while Isa looked on in complete awe at her son's rapid change of mood.

"I'll finally be able to eat my candies," the little boy says with a sweet excited voice.

"Axel!!" Isa says laughing at the boy's innocence.

*********************************************

N/A: SOOOOOO, what did you guys think? Writing the last part, breaks my heart, because I know their situation, me being mean for not telling you guys 😏

So, the next chapter will be the penultimate one, and then there will be the final one, and then the bonus. As mentioned in the previous chapter. Of course, it all depends on how much the characters are talking to me as well...

[dadsbongos]

I love the way you write kabru, could you write some of the general headcanons for him?

super all over the place. i got maybe a bit too into the nsfw headcanons cuz i need to destroy him ~~~ general headcanons:

The type to imagine oc battle amvs in his head to their medieval music but pretends he’s just smoldering chill cool guy

Outside of general note-taking or journaling, I fully believe he’s had dreams of being a novelist as a kid

Probably avoids interacting one-on-one with Falin without Marcille or Laios as buffers because of her stubbornly remaining monster traits, as well as like… “hey girl you killed me!!”

But as time goes on n he gets used to her, he probably ends up just seeing her as a cutie pie like everyone else does

Would thrive coming up with criminal punishments, maybe not watching some of them because excessive gore icks him out but theorizing is always fun to him

Would similarly thrive in a court setting, and would jump at the opportunity to be the angel and devil on laios’ shoulders through the whole thing

I think he’s the type of man to bare a heavy conscious about things he considers immoral or rude, like having a hard time forgiving himself for mistakes or even just generally “bad” things in his past

Likes the idea of being a family man but gets scared shitless at the actual effort it would take to raise children and maintain a marriage

Would be a total reality TV junkie and anime lameoid in modern era - he loves the melodrama

if/when Mickbell ever gave him permission to refer to him by “mick” (or just any half-foots say he can call them by first name alone) he’d squeal and kick his feet for dayssss knowing what it means in a cultural context for half-foots

Tries not to be That Guy, but feels a little complimented when people tease at what a smooth talker he is. Loves getting to have his redditor “heh… just my natural charisma…” moment

Strikes me specifically as bisexual btw i dunno why but its just jumping at me

Not in love with Rin, but likes her? But doesn’t? But doesn’t NOT like her? He’s trying to maintain distance because sometimes he feels a spark, but then goes back to thinking of her as just a childhood friend. Feels very guilty and selfish if he thinks about her feelings for him for too long, especially since he’s kind of a known charmer. Earnestly hopes she moves on from him no matter the state of his feelings though

Nsfw headcanons:

Likes foreplay wayyyy more than sex because he gets off seeing how crazy he can drive his partners before they just start begging with zero shame

Would enjoy group sex or two-party affairs, his only iffy stance is being watched by someone else. Unless he knows the voyeur VERY well it just feels uncomfortable to be the one getting observed. Down to be the voyeur though hehe

Has a stupid lil whispy laugh he does when he’s getting teased im gonna get feral

Could never play a brat, you tell him shut up and he salutes you with sweaty hands

Could do hate sex! If he realllllllly doesn’t fuck with your vibe, but he’d have to know you personally. Hate sex feels weirdly more intimate to him because he has to expose real feelings he has, so in a way his ass doesn’t even hate you he’s just annoyed you keep bickering with him

If he’s supposed to be submissive, I think he’d like to get a couple light slaps. Maybe choke him a wee bit.

Can’t take humiliation unless its in a sandwich where the degradation is hidden between 2+ praises

Idk if its because its me or if this is real, but I can see him blurting out a “mommy” if he’s super delirious with pleasure

Circling back to the voyeur thing, I think his other hardcore no is somnophilia. Either way, he just can’t get into it. But he’s not the type to shame people for their goons

[axigailxo]

Pretty Like You | PJM (2)

part two: parties and pilates

series summary. where jimin is jealous of the beauty that is you, writes about it, and falls apart when you accidentally read it.

pairing. feminine!jimin x reader

rating. M | 18+ |

genre. enemies to lovers, feminine!jimin, self hatred au, slight identity crisis, self love journey, smut, sub! jimin, angst, fluff, heartfelt

w.c. 4.8k

warnings. heavy descriptions of self hate and self abuse later into the story, please be advised. mention of “unaliving” in this chapter.

ch summary. where oc convinces jimin to go to a frat party in an attempt to break him out of his shell

**this is part 2 of my series pretty like you, not a stand-alone

series masterlist | <-previous | next ->

“And then despite it all, she asked if I wanted to talk, can you believe it?”

It’s been a couple of days since the incident at the art room, and Jimin can’t stop ranting about it like it’s new news. He still hasn’t texted you, and it’s not like he could since he doesn’t even have your number. He could get it from you in class, but thats a little hard when he’s on a streak of skipping.

After you suggested to help him embark on a self love journey, Jimin has been so damn confused. He doesn’t know whether to jump at the opportunity, rot away in embarrassment that you read his journal, or be slightly offended that you’d suggest help when he thinks he’s just fine. Kind of.

All options are tempting, nonetheless.

Daisy, Jimin’s cat that is currently victim to listening about what happened for the hundredth time, lifts up off her soft body and saunters out of his room. What? She’s fed up.

Jimin, who is suffering from her rude and sudden exit, huffs as he debates whether he should follow up about that whole thing with you. Because despite all his options, he’s leaning more towards just avoiding you at all costs and pretending that situation never even happened.

Except he’ll remember. It’ll haunt him and his thoughts every night until he finally just addresses it.

And so that’s why he should go to class today. Maybe. Jimin squints his eyes as he contemplates and considers, ultimately deciding that coffee is the first step that should be taken. Especially since it’s way too early to have a crisis, that can wait for later. Per usual.

Making his way to his Keurig, he pops a peppermint mocha flavored pod into the top compartment followed by a little water in another compartment until he’s clicking a button to brew it.

“So now you like me,” Jimin scoffs as Daisy rubs against his ankle, excited for Jimin to give her breakfast.

Commanding to the manipulation of the feline, Jimin grabs a can of cat food out of a cupboard, internally scolding himself for being nice and buying her the expensive kind again.

Although, Jimin can’t blame Daisy for being fed up with all his predicaments. He would be too. However spilling to Daisy is much more acceptable than telling it all to his human best friend, Taehyung.

Jimin has already thought about the fact that if he spends time with you, whether it be for a self love journey or not, that’d be breaking some sort of bro code with Tae.

You’re Taehyung’s crush, and Jimin respects that. Plus it’s not like Taehyung has to worry, you’re out of Jimin’s league anyway.

However that hard on be got the other night still baffles him. He’s narrowed it down to being that you’re just attractive and he’s just a gross horny man. But not even that sounds right.

Jimin has thought about inviting Taehyung to every outing you may have together, but he can’t. How in hell would he explain to his best friend that the whole reason he’s seeing you is so that he can learn to accept himself and flaunt that feminine side of him? Let alone explain to him that you read his journal full of how much he envies and adores you at the same time. He can’t. More specifically, he won’t. Taehyung doesn’t need to meet that side of him, Jimin thinks. It’s for the better.

Jimin ponders for a second, and he hates himself for pouring his coffee into a travel cup and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He figures since he’s already keeping a secret from Tae, one more shouldn’t hurt. Plus he can’t avoid you forever. There’s really only one thing to do now.

“Eat up Daisy, I’ll be back after class.”

“Jimin? Hey!”

Standing in line at the campus’s cafe, Jimin washes over in a cold sweat as the loud call of his name attracts the attention of almost everyone near. He came here to get an additional caffeine boost before class and more importantly stall from talking to you, but it’s just his luck that you’d be here too.

“Hi,” he mutters awkwardly, eyes on the ground the second you get closer.

He’s never seen you so up-close before. He wonders if your skin has always looked so smooth.

He wishes his skin were as smooth.

“I was gonna call to ask about your no shows in class but I completely forgot to give you my number the last time we talked.”

Jimin finds this incredibly new and odd. Just a few days ago he hated you without knowing you and now you’re talking to him like a friend. It’s definitely going to take some getting used to.

“Here,” you say as you hand him your phone, a new contact page open and ready for him to fill out. “That way we can talk out of school, plus I found multiple super-helpful self esteem websites that you might li—“

“Y/N,” Jimin halts your enthusiasm. Again, way too early in the morning for this. “Can we not talk about it in such a public place?”

His tone is hushed and embarrassed, trying not to let the several eyes on them to hear that he’s struggling with self esteem. God this is so much more depressing than Jimin initially thought it’d be.

“Of course, yeah no my bad.” You rush your words, retracting your hand down before Jimin grabs the phone from you, typing his number.

“I dont expect you to waste time on me. Just text when you have absolutely nothing else to do. This isn’t important enough to occupy your schedule.”

Immediately, you frown at his words. Sure this is important. And contrary to his request, you already cleared something off of your schedule for him.

“First off, this is important. I won’t have you taking down on yourself anymore.”

Jimin so badly wants to ask why, but he won’t because that’s rude and you don’t deserve anymore rudeness from him. Not after what you read in the art room.

“Secondly, I already cancelled pilates for you. I have something else fun planned for us.”

Jimin can’t help his sudden snicker.

“What?” You ask, slightly offended.

“Nothing, it’s just funny you take pilates. Of course you do.”

You wanted to carry on with being offended, but you felt a pang of accomplishment upon getting him to laugh. Progress, you think.

“Yeah yeah,” you dismiss as you tuck your phone into your back pocket, trailing back out of the cafe. “Laugh all you want but just know that this ass didn’t grow itself!”

You: u, me, frat party tonight at 9.

Sat on the hard seats of the lecture hall, Jimin’s eyes go wide as he reads your reply to his text.

The second you sauntered out of the cafe, you were quick to text Jimin in hopes to break the tension between you two— which technically isn’t tension at all given Jimin is the only one who finds your new friendship odd. Well him and the rest of the students who saw you two talking together.

Jimin had asked what you had planned, and when you replied with frat party, he felt physically ill.

Jimin: absolutely not. sorry.

You: hear me out, it’s not even a big party

You: it’s very discreet and there’s only gonna be a couple people

Jimin locks eyes with you from across the room and mouths “no” with an adamant shake of his head. You roll your eyes before your thumbs get back to texting him.

You: we can pregame before we go so u can loosen up

You: if you’re with me, there’s nothing to worry about

Jimin wants to be offended. He most definitely does not need you at his rescue. The intent however was a little sweet. God Jimin is reminded exactly why he despised you— you’re perfect.

Jimin: i’ll think about it. that’s not a yes.

He pretends he doesn’t notice the little happy dance you do in your seat, nor the squeal of excitement you let out even though he didn’t give a definite answer.

Jimin starts to smile, but when he looks to his left he sees someone else who’s smiling at you and it vanishes. Taehyung. Completely gawking at you, Jimin fights that weird feeling that suddenly engulfs him. Maybe it’s the fact he’s hiding his new friendship with you from Tae.

Either that or somewhere in his subconscious, he doesn’t like how Tae is smiling at you.

“God dude, isn’t she so cute.” Tae whispers, completely oblivious to why you’re dancing in you’re seat.

Jimin trails his gaze to his lap as a bitter mood takes hold of him.

“Yeah… definitely.”

Jimin is in a rut.

Even though he’s still not certain about going to that party, finding a potential outfit never hurt anyone. Moments after he got home he was already sucked into his closet by the magnetic pull of all the great clothes he has— even though he knows himself well enough to understand he will end up changing into his “boy clothes” no matter what he ends up choosing.

He slips on a black, oversized distressed sweater. The seams are ripped in just the right places, leaving a fraction of his chest, his belly, and a dash of his waist to be visible beneath the shredded fabric. The back showcases a fair amount of skin as well.

This one, Jimin thinks to himself, isn’t so feminine. It’s doable. Maybe.

He wants to pair it with a skirt but that would only be a waste of time because if he can’t even leave his apartment in a skirt to check the mailbox, he sure as hell will not be wearing it to a frat party of all places.

He grabs a pair of black chinos that he thrifted not so long ago, letting it rest low on his waist. He pulls the look together with black combat boots and a dainty necklace that he tucks beneath the sweater. It makes him feel pretty despite the fact he’s the only one aware it’s on him.

He steps back to absorb the outfit in the mirror, and he feels good. It’s a combination of both masculine and feminine and it’s definitely testing the waters but Jimin knows his night won’t be enjoyable in the least if he wears a baggy hoodie or tee. He likes what he has on, even if the frat boys will give him shit for it. Which they definitely will.

He hears Daisy meow across the room, and upon directed his gaze to her his eyes settle on the makeup bag tucked into the far back corner of his desk.

He’s tempted, he is. But he can’t. He’s not ready yet.

Just as he begins to walk towards his desk, only enticing himself further, a knock on his door is heard and he takes that as a sign from god herself that he should skip the makeup.

With a sigh, he heads to the door.

“Knock… Knock… Knock!”

“Just a minute! For fuck’s sake.”

Irritated at the swat team-like announcement, Jimin swings the door open to reveal none other than Jessica Rabbit?

“You didn’t tell me it was a costume party!” Jimin complains as he steps aside, gesturing you to come in.

Both hands holding a bottle of E&J, you let yourself in and place the bottle on his countertop.

“Oh yeah, it’s a costume party.”

“It’s not even halloween,” Jimin states the obvious as he instinctively heads for two glasses out of his cupboard.

“It’s to make up for last year. There was a big game the day of halloween so none of the guys were in a party mentality.”

Party Mentality?

Jimin can’t believe he’s hearing about frat news from you, who is in his apartment dressed like Jessica Rabbit and is downing a shot straight from the bottle. What has his life come to.

You notice him staring so you apologize as you offer him the bottle to pour.

“Figured we’d pregame like I said. Also we gotta figure out a costume for you. Ooh what about a slutty artist or something.”

Jimin swears you make him lose brain cells. Sliding a now-filled glass toward you, he takes a large gulp of his own.

“Slutty artist?” He thinks out loud. “I’m fine with what I have on.”

Jimin counts down the seconds until you praise his bold sweater choice, but he can feel the alcohol rise back up when you say the opposite.

“In all honestly I thought that was a sleep shirt. We’re putting you in something else.”

You navigate yourself straight to what you assume is him bedroom, and Jimin nearly falls flat on his face chasing after you.

This may be a bit embarrassing for Jimin to admit to himself, but he’s never had a girl in his room before. It’s intimate, he thinks. Having someone inside a room that has witnessed every one of his breakdowns, outfit changes, alone time moments, etcetera. Jimin cringes as memories from the other night come back to him.

“Cute room,” you tell him as you look around, admiring the fairy lights and album covers displayed. Jimin was always big on music. Maybe posters were too far given his age, but he didn’t care. He never thought someone else would ever see them.

Although, Tae has been to Jimin’s place before. He knows about the posters and fairy lights. Though he never once questioned it or even talked about it. Only when he called that one poster of Ariana Grande hot. That’s what Jimin likes about Tae, he never questions him. But it’s not like Jimin gives him much to wonder about. He’s completely masked to the eyes of his best friend.

“This,” you start, dramatic tone and all, “this is gorg.” You hold out his favorite black skirt, and it’s lightening quick how fast he snatches it from you.

“No.” He tells you, cheeks getting hot. He’s embarrassed to say the least. He knows you know about his self esteem issues, but you have yet to discover his fondness for feminine clothing. But you have now.

“What? You’re embarrassed I found a skirt? If it’s socially acceptable for women to wear sweats, then it should be acceptable for men to wear skirts.”

Someone who gets it, Jimin thinks. This is the first time he’s ever felt understood when it comes to this, and he doesn’t quite know what to say.

“But skirt or no skirt, I think it’s important that you feel sexy tonight.”

“And why is that?” Jimin plays along. He takes a seat on the edge of his bed as you continue to look through his wardrobe.

“Because halloween parties exist solely for people to feel sexy all night.”

“It’s not halloween,” Jimin argues again, earning a shirt thrown at his face. Giggling, he holds it out in front of him.

You stand in front of his closet with a look of excitement on your face. His reaction disappoints you, however.

“Y/N, no. I can’t wear this out.”

“Just try it on.”

He knew this was part of your plan to get him to gain a little confidence and even convince him to leave the house in something he feels good in, but Jimin is adamant. He cannot wear this.

It’s a fitted baseball tee, extremely cropped and a shade of pale pink. Jimin cannot leave the house like this, despite how good it makes him feel deep down.

Reluctant and a tad shy, Jimin removes his sweatshirt from his body as he replaces it with what you threw at him. In the short moment he was bare, you might’ve stole a glance at his figure. His body is perfect, you think. Slim waist with faint yet toned abs and a noticeable amount of muscle on his arms. You take another sip of the drink that has yet to leave your hand.

“I look stupid.”

“You look sexy.”

The compliment was unexpected and was more than enough to have Jimin’s eyes widen. He breaks eye contact because how could he not, and he self consciously wraps an arm around his stomach.

More so his lap.

“I don’t know,” he says faintly, mumbling over his speech. “I think it’s a bit much.”

“Change to grey sweats. You can tell people you’re a 60’s athlete, they dressed like this back in the day you know.”

Yeah right, tell a bunch of actual scary frat boy athletes that’s he’s mocking their style from the 60’s.

His brows furrow when you step closer to him, reclining down and reaching for the skirt he had snatched from you. You grab one of his wrists, placing the bunched up material into his hand. His cheeks are on fire, his heartbeat picking up.

“Try it on,” you whisper. “For me.”

And fuck. Jimin is fully erect. He physically cannot bring himself to stand let alone change in front of you. He pushes your hand away, never wanting to disappear so badly.

“Another time. You already got me to wear this tee, baby steps.”

Disappointed, you think he’s right. You can’t beg him to gain confidence to wear an entire outfit like this on the first day of his journey. It takes time, and luck for Jimin you’re very patient.

“Another time,” you repeat softly.

Jimin has been to a function with very little people before. He knows what a small little get together looks like. This party— it isn’t that.

“You said a couple people!” He shouts over the blairing music as you pull him through the front hall and to the packed kitchen.

He has no clue who’s house this is and he hasn’t seen a single normal person. Everyone is either drunk, high, or the worst: a frat. He shivers in discomfort before you bring a shot glass to his lips.

“Guess word spread and more people came, no biggie.”

He downs the shot of what turns out to be tequila, wincing as he coughs out a reply.

“Huge biggie.” He looks around the crowded house after a bystander drunkenly bumps into him and slurs an incoherent apology.

This was a mistake.

“Y/N, what is the point of me being here? This isn’t making me feel good about myself in the least, this isn’t my environment.”

You take another shot before quickly grabbing a lime and placing it between Jimin’s plump lips, and before he can register what you’re doing, your lips are already on his as you suck from the lime. Nipping the fruit with your teeth you pull it out and drop it into the sink, grin wide as Jimin turns fire hydrant red.

That shouldn’t count as a kiss, but you just sort-of-kissed Jimin. His mouth is dry, heartbeat in his stomach, and he is hyper alert on the way his knees are subtly shaking.

“Ease up Jimin, it’s gonna be a long night.”

He didn’t know it then but that’s the last time he’d be seeing you until the end of the party. He sauntered off to a random couch that was unoccupied for the most part, only some random (and gross) couple having a full blown make out session on the opposite side.

He made sure to keep his cup filled the whole night as that’s the only thing keeping him from walking straight out the door and back into the comfort of anything that’s not this party.

He’s spotted Tae a few times, who is dressed as Jack from the titanic, but Tae hasn’t noticed him yet which is probably because his rather different fashion approach and the fact he’s at a frat party. If anything that should be a reason Tae spots him since he’s the odd one out, Jimin thinks. Then again it is a costume party and no one look normal per-say. Nor is Tae the sharpest tool in the shed.

He also thanks the universe for not letting Tae notice you and Jimin arrive together.

He’s been glancing at you for a while now, the way you sway your hips to the rap song playing on the surround sound speakers. The way your skin is glowing even under the dim, groggy lights of the house. He watches the way smoke exits your mouth as Tae places a blunt between your perfect lips. He looks away when Tae also places a hand on your waist, dancing with you so intimately that it pains Jimin to see.

He knows he’ll be hearing all about this from Tae. You’re his favorite person, he’s probably over the moon about dancing with you right now.

“Jimin?” Speaking of the devil.

Jimin waves awkwardly as Tae whispers something to you and proceeds to walk towards his direction. You go off to dance with a frat guy who’s been waiting all night to have your attention. Jimin finds him pathetic.

“What are you doing here? You never come to these kinds of things.”

The music is loud but that’s nothing compared to how deep and confident Tae’s voice is. Despite Jimin’s desire to be more feminine, there are some masculine traits he wishes to have. A deeper voice is one of them. Not Tae’s level of deep, but deeper than what his currently is.

“A friend forced me to,” he admits, not naming names because how could he.

“Oh you have friends?” The younger man teases, earning a grumpy eye roll from Jimin. He takes another swig out of his cup.

Jimin remembers what he’s wearing and wonders why his best friend hasn’t said anything about it yet. He almost wants to point it out so it doesn’t awkwardly go unsaid and leaves Tae to catch on to his secret need for femininity.

“Like my costume?” Jimin asks, masking the fact that this is actually just a random shirt he’s had in his wardrobe and not a costume.

Tae gives him a quick once over, not lingering his eyes on the top for long.

“Oh what are you supposed to be?”

He definitely thought that wasn’t a costume and instead a normal outfit. Jimin cringes, hating you right now more than ever for making him show up in this. But he also loves you for providing him with the save he’s about to use on Tae.

“I’m a 60’s athlete. They used to dress like this you know.”

Taehyung hums, genuinely convinced.

“Wah that’s clever. I thought that was yours for a sec.”

Jimin hates himself for what he’s about to say.

“Why on earth would I own a pink crop top, that’s ridiculous.”

They laugh it off, and Jimin feels a gut wrenching pang in his stomach. That sentence wasn’t made for him, and it made him a liar and a hypocrite to his own desire.

He needs to go now before he says even more self damaging nonsense.

“Hey Tae, do you think you can get me a blunt?” Jimin asks in hopes to excuse his friend and, well, get high.

“Is this coming from the same person that said smoking isn’t good for you?”

Jimin remembers when he said that but he’s far too drained to be defensive or right. He shrugs as he admits to his hypocrisy.

“Yeah well so are frat parties but here I am. Cough one up, I know you have some.”

Tae stands up to reach in his front pocket, pulling out a steep tin that reveals 3 joints. He hands one to Jimin, telling him a brief “I’ll be back” before vanishing to find you again.

Something told Jimin to stay at the party despite how badly he wanted to go. He thought about how it may make you sad if he were to just leave, then he ridded that idea because why on earth would that make you sad. Nevertheless, he glanced outside to see if the crowd was acceptable to join. It wasn’t.

Deciding to not smoke with a bunch of frat guys, he goes the alternative route and heads for the hallway to secure an empty room. When he succeeds, he closes the door behind him and props the window open as he lights the tip of his joint.

He doesn’t smoke often, barely at all, but he needed this. As the smoke entered into his mouth he inhaled it eagerly, head rolling back as he slowly blows it all back out. This feels good, he thinks. The atmosphere on the other hand still could be better.

Jimin laughs to himself. Smoking weed at a frat party you invited him to. The world is funny that way, he nods to himself. Almost as funny as how you’re all he can think about right now.

He doesn’t know what it is. It’s not hate. For sure not love. He’s just thinking about you. Perhaps he misses your company? Or the way your skirts never reveal too much but just enough to drive him crazy.

The way your pouty lips move when you talk.

Your soft skin.

Your silky voice.

The way you look in that Jessica Rabbit costume you wore tonight.

Jimin is painfully erect, and without even noticing his hand has been palming himself desperately this entire time, blunt being delicately held in the other hand, occasionally being brought up for more puffs to fuel what he’s doing right now.

“Fuck Y/N, yes.”

He unties his sweats. One more rough drag and he kills the blunt on the rim of the windowsill, both hands focusing on himself now. One hand tugging his waistband down, the other guiding himself out. And all he can think about is how sexy you are.

He gets carried away, going so fast on himself that he doesn’t hear or see the door open. He’s high beyond belief, god only knows what Taehyung had laced in that blunt, and so when he sees you he swears his imagination is just very vivid.

Until his conscience registers and he almost squeals as he lunges back in shock of the situation.

Quickly you run up to him just in time to pull his entire body back and preventing him from falling out the window. You’re breathing heavy, half because of what you saw moments before and partially because you just saved his life.

“Fuck Jimin, be careful.”

And how fucking peculiar it is that you’re not addressing his cock that is out in the open between the two of you.

Jimin can’t speak. He almost literally died from being caught jerking himself to you while being high out his mind.

What a fucking legacy he’d have left.

After catching his breath he frantically goes to put himself away but his hand is stopped by yours.

“You know people sneak into rooms at parties to have sex with each other, not to do themselves.”

His cheeks flush red.

“Only freaks do that.”

Jimin has wanted to before, but he officially wants to unalive himself. How pathetic he is, he thinks.

“I’m sorry, I… I’m really high right now and I thought I locked the—“

He cuts himself off when you guide his hand back onto himself.

“You’re not gonna ask me why I came in here?”

Jimin takes a deep breath.

“Why?”

You pull your bottom lip into your mouth, very slowly putting his own hand into motion against himself.

“Because I’m a freak too.”

Your words came out in a faint whisper but Jimin’s senses are heightened and he hears it like a megaphone in his ears. Your tits are practically spilling out your tiny red tube dress as you lean to help him stroke himself. A shiver cascades down his whole body, an unintentional yet hesitant whimper rumbling off his throat.

You giggle, then abruptly you stand. You lean down and peck him on his frozen, plump lips.

“Have a good night Jimin, I’ll be in contact for our next power move.” You walk towards the door. “Masturbating is a good way to show yourself love, kudos to you kid.”

Jimin’s hand is glued to his stiff cock, frozenly just keeping it there as he stares at you with his mouth agape.

“I’ll lock this on my way out, by all means finish and do not fall out any windows.”

And just like that you open the door only a couple inches and squeeze out to give him privacy. He’s left in the same spot, still in absolute shock.

You’re perfect.

You’re beautiful, and apparently so fucking sexy in sexual situations. It takes only one more stroke and one more thought of you for Jimin to reach the finish line, cum dropping down his hand and shaft as he fucks into his fist.

He breathes jaggedly until he’s drained of all energy and collapses on the bed.

To his shock, he’s not freaking out. He’s actually smiling. Then again that could easily be the weed talking. What did taehyung put in that anyway?

Jimin’s smile dissipates as an ugly thought sends a cold chill throughout him.

You’re his best friend’s crush. You’re Taehyung's. And he just betrayed him. Jimin hates how the universe works sometimes. When one thing goes well, the whole world goes to shit.

The world is funny that way.

ply pt 2???? im sorry for how long it took luvies, last year was so intense. i hope you all are still here to read😿 run this uppppp cuties!! til next time luvs🤭❤️

🏷️: @exactlygreatcoffee @sweetieguk @ctrlsht @blessrious @someusername133 @dreamer-pjm @zadkielr @dearsullix @lailaaxd @osakis-gf @jnghs @seltansworld @bxnqtxnie @moon-kid39 @mawwnsterr @zadkielr @iamjimintrash @chansbaybygirl @canarystwin @dearsullix @polyparkj @mannymalfoy @jmincore @kyglover @coralmusicblaze @midnightangel13 @jm-jkfics @lovelyflower02 @xcherrywaltz

soooo many of u guys who asked to be in the taglist changed your usernames so unfortunately i couldn't tag u☹️hopefully this found u!🫶🏻

(for anyone else who'd like to be in the taglist pls reply to this post <3)

[comphy-and-cozy]

love it if we made it - mat barzal

Pairing: Mat Barzal x OC (f)

Summary: Aurora Foster and Mat Barzal are friends. Sometimes with benefits, sometimes with unspoken feelings, but always with a little something extra. When they have the opportunity to close the cross-country gap between them, will they be able to overcome the skinny love and take their relationship to the next level?

Word Count: 9.2K

Author's Note: My first ever Barzal fic written for @thewintersoldierdisaster for @wyattjohnston's Winter Fic Exchange! You are such a talented writer and I really wanted to make this a good one - I hope I managed to get the Garden City details covered correctly. 😉 It was a blast to write for someone new even though I am still reluctantly slowly joining the Barzy train. Enjoy, my dear! Thank you to @smileysvech, @pyotrkochetkov, @jostystyles, and @Demi for all of your help in brainstorming, editing, sending inspirational Barzy pics, and the usual general insanity. Couldn’t do it without y’all. Also, just for the record, Mat has hair in this entire fic. No bald Barzy allowed.

Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, alcohol use (characters get drunk), Mat being a bit of a fuckboy. Smut (18+ ONLY); unprotected sex, general sexual tension/sexual themes. Masterlist

July 2013 - Vancouver, British Columbia

The crackling of the fire melds with the gentle splash of waves on the shoreline, crickets chirping happily amid the cool summer breeze. Smoke billows up, wafting to a deep sky sparkling with stars, not a cloud in sight. 

Aurora Foster watches the flames, absorbing the warmth on her legs. There’s a blue koozie on the armrest of her Adirondack chair, holding a Diet Coke. She allows herself to sink into the warm, worn cotton of her Burnaby Winter Club sweatshirt, sighing contentedly. 

“Anyone want more pizza? I’ve gotta rock a piss.”

Rolling her eyes, Aurora scoffs as the rest of the group murmurs no’s. “Charming, Fabbs.”

The next voice that rings out is clear. “Anyone wanna go for a late night dip?”

“Yeah, I’ll go.” This time of night is Aurora’s favorite time for a swim, when the lake is all but glass and the water feels like a lukewarm bath; not warm, but certainly not cold after spending a day baking under a bright British Columbia sun. 

There are no other takers, so she looks expectantly across the fire. His dark hair is shaggy, unkempt, air-dried after a day in the lake. His brown eyes lock with hers, and he jerks his head toward the dock with a grin. “Race you.”

Mat Barzal. 

A name that holds the burden of promise. He’s going to be drafted in a few years, to the Show—and he’s going to be good. Not I’m just saying that because he’s my friend and I’m supposed to say that—no, he’s going to be good, potentially even great.

Here, though, he’s just Mat. He feels weird about the weight his name is starting to hold, not really knowing what to do with the slight level of fame. He’s made a vow to himself that whatever happens, he won’t let it get to him, won’t let it change the fabric of who he is—this guy, right here, feeling the warm breeze through his hair as sprints down the wooden dock, two smaller feet pattering rapidly behind him.

“You first,” he grins, gesturing toward the ladder.

“What if there’s a big monster waiting right there and it eats me?”

“I’ll jump in and save you,” he says, like there’s no hesitation. He glances down to double check that there is no actual sign of danger. Aurora doesn’t notice, her eyes also on the dark water, illuminated only slightly by the brightness of the moon.

“You promise?”

“I promise.” The way he says it is so sure that it actually comforts her for a split second, enough time for her confidence to reach the appropriate level to jump in with a splash. 

Her body is immersed in cold for the briefest of seconds before she’s enveloped in warmth. The splash next to her tells her that Mat has joined her beneath the water. He rises to the surface a few moments later, letting out a scoff as he shakes out his hair.

“Shit. You like this?” he asks, swimming out toward the trampoline floating a few meters away. 

“It’s nice!” she says, following him. “Refreshing.”

“It’s cold.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be a big macho hockey player?” 

He ignores her with a roll of his eyes, rising back out of the water to climb the ladder to the trampoline. Aurora opts to swim around a while longer, feeling the weight of the water gliding over her skin. It’s nice, heavenly even, how the water makes her weightless.

When she approaches the trampoline, the blast of cool air against her wet skin makes her shiver, goosebumps instantly covering her body. Mat glances at her, sees the way her arms have wrapped around herself in an attempt to warm herself. He extends an arm, his own skin almost dry. “C’mere.”

His arm curls around her frame, warmth of him already heating her skin. He’s not sure if it’s his heart or hers that he can feel beating—maybe it’s both, beating in a steady, sure rhythm next to one another. 

Aurora’s toes nudge his, the gesture comfortable and affectionate; a silent thank you.

June 2018 – Vancouver, British Columbia

By all accounts, it’s a normal Thursday evening in June; Aurora’s housemates are getting ready to go out to the bar—there are plugged-in curling irons, loose cans of hairspray, scattered makeup brushes all over the counter alongside an assortment of cups in varying stages of empty. A half-full fifth of Smirnoff is there too, the cap misplaced somewhere.

On any other occasion, Aurora would be right there with them, blasting Taylor Swift and chattering about if Brad will finally make a move on Carley. Tonight, though, she’s opted out in favor of spending the night on the couch in her favorite sweatpants. Just not feeling a bar tonight, she’d said.

The silence when the door finally closes behind her friends is almost deafening; she hadn’t realized how loud it was in the chaos of the pre-night-out ritual. With a contented sigh, Aurora plops down on the couch and tugs a blanket over her legs, opening Netflix and starting an episode of New Girl. 

She's part way through her second episode and her first glass of wine when she gets the text.

[Mat:] what’s the play tn

Mat. Of course. He’s home for the summer now, back after his first year in Long Island, and recently returned from winning the Calder trophy. Aurora still had a hard time connecting that this Mat, the one that she’s known since they were 12, the one who she grew up hearing make stupid dick jokes with his friends, is the same one that just won Rookie of the Year in the National Hockey League. 

Instead of typing out a message, Aurora snaps a photo of the wine glass in her hand and blanket in her lap with the TV in the background. It doesn’t take long for the response bubble to pop back up, and soon enough the whoosh of an incoming text sounds.

[Mat:] want some company?

Aurora’s heart freezes in her chest. She hasn’t spent any time alone with him since that sorority formal her sophomore year, the one she bribed him to attend with her so she wasn’t the only girl without a date. It was platonic—that didn’t even need to be discussed—and it had been nice to have a familiar figure by her side; it didn’t hurt that he was starting to make a name for himself in the hockey world as a top draft pick headed for the NHL.

What started as a simple, friendly night ended with her leg wrapped around his waist, leaning against the bathroom door of the venue, moaning his name. She didn’t know how they ended up there, but what she did know was that it was passionate, mind-boggling, life-altering sex. 

At least, to her it was. He’d never mentioned it since. 

At first, it lingered on the tip of her tongue every time he was around, waiting to be blurted out when the sinking confusion became too much to bear. But one month, two months, three months passed, with no recognition or acknowledgement that anything happened between them. 

For a while, she began to believe that she’d dreamt it; that her mind conjured the hottest, dizziest, most viscerally real dream possible. But then she’d see his eyes flick to hers during the sex scene in a movie and feel the spark of electricity when his hand would brush hers. Just briefly, but enough for her to confirm that no, she didn’t imagine it all. 

Needless to say, Aurora can’t help the rising suspicion at the seemingly random text. Surely, he couldn’t be thinking about one night years ago when he had the pick of any girl he wanted at his fingertips.

Before she can stop herself, she's typing ‘bring chocolate’ and soon, she hears her front door open. There’s a shuffle, the sound of shoes being shrugged off, before that handsome face is rounding the corner. His eyes land on her in an instant, a predatory gaze simmering behind an unassuming smile. In his hand is a plastic bag from which he fishes out a pack of peanut M&M’s, tossing them at her.

Aurora squeals, eagerly tearing open the packet and immediately tossing three into her mouth. After an expectant eyebrow raise from him, she heaves herself off the couch with a dramatic sigh and runs the short distance to him before launching into his arms. 

“Thank you, Matty,” she says, voice muffled by the black Acme sweatshirt he’s wearing. He’s warm. And big—bigger than he was before he left for New York. “And congratulations.”

He hums a response, following her as she resumes her spot, this time making room for him beside her. “You didn’t want to go out tonight? Celebrate that enormous trophy?” 

Mat shrugs, placing her feet in his lap and securing the blanket over both. “Could take it or leave it. Can’t leave you to be home alone and bored.”

She rolls her eyes and nudges his leg with her foot. “Shut up. You didn’t have to come over.”

“Honestly, I need a break after that media circus,” he confesses. “So much press, so many questions, so many pictures. It’s exhausting.”

Aurora nods understandingly, though she can only imagine being put on public display the way he is day in and day out, the attention only heightened now that he’s won the Calder. She’s seen the pictures, the articles, all of the buzz, feeling a slight tinge of jealousy—not of him, but that she has to share him with the rest of the world now.

Mat settles in, and casual conversation filters in amidst the episode, pausing at moments to hear the dialogue before another one of them is adding commentary or snorting at someone’s Instagram story. It’s so casual, so normal, his place beside her on the couch; like finally finding that one pivotal puzzle piece she’s been looking for for hours. He’s calm, relaxed, and once again she begins to wonder if she’s been creating something out of nothing this entire time. If the flood of nerves in her chest is an overreaction.

“You still seeing that frat guy? Tim, or whatever his name is?” 

The question comes out of nowhere. Aurora can’t help but wonder if she detects a hint of jealousy.

“Was never really seeing him,” she replies, leaving a heavy pause, enough time for him to fill in the blanks. It’s true, but maybe she chose her words intentionally, curious to see if that lilt in his tone really was jealousy. 

He doesn’t react much outside of a nod and an over-engineered nice, but she sees the very slight tick in his jaw. She resists the urge to roll her eyes, instead supplying, “You really gonna give me shit, Mr. Hot-Shot-NHL rookie?”

“Listen,” he grins, “it’s not my fault there’s a million single girls in New York.”

This time, Aurora does roll her eyes, if only to hide the sting she feels deep in her chest. She wouldn’t say she has feelings for Mat Barzal, but—well, it’s complicated. It’s always been there, buried deep beneath the surface, veiled as fond affection for a friend who’s grown by her side since they were 12. 

“But none of them are as pretty as you.”

Aurora has to laugh, can’t help but laugh, rather than feel the discomfort that sinks in when she processes what he said. He’s always like this—these seemingly harmless, flirty comments—but those are the ones that keep his hooks latched into her, keeping her coming back for more, dangling by a single thread of hope.

“Don’t be a dick.”

“M’not. You’re so pretty it hurts.”

She moves to kick him—playfully, mostly—but his hand catches her foot in an instant. Before she has a chance to protest, barely processing the evil grin that hatches on his face, he’s tickling her arch. Aurora shrieks, legs flailing in protest, doing her best to scramble out of his grasp. Mat’s laugh is mirthful as his strong arms easily overpower her, hands moving to her hips to pin her to the couch.

“You’re gonna—” he pauses to wrestle her down, “—hurt yourself.”

“Fuck off,” she shouts playfully, hands shoving wildly at his hands in a weak attempt to stop him from tickling at her sides. “I—I hate you!”

In a flash, Aurora finds her arms pinned above her head, large hands pressed into her wrists. She shrieks again, but the laughter dies in her throat when she realizes he’s paused, hovering over her. Her legs stop their thrashing, breath caught in her throat while her heart thumps in her chest. She isn’t sure how long they sit like that, frozen in time, staring at one another; she wonders if he’s thinking the same thing she is, flashing back to the night spent inside the dimly lit bar bathroom.

And then he’s kissing her, desperate, his open mouth pressed against hers. It consumes her, the feeling of his lips, in a way that makes her wonder how she’s survived the last two years without his touch. The thought of stopping is unthinkable, unfathomable, unbearable. 

Mat’s hand slides down her arm to cup her jaw, thumb brushing against her cheekbone while his tongue finds hers. With her now free hand, Aurora instinctively moves to run her fingers through his hair, soft and smooth. It’s long, long enough that she can wrap the locks around her knuckles, offering a firm hold that has him exhaling lowly against her mouth.

With just the simplest, subtlest move, Aurora’s flipped the switch inside of Mat that transforms him from doting, passionate lover to desperate and unrestrained. His lips pivot to nip at the base of her jaw, offering a subtle bite on his way down to her neck. 

She can hear his heavy breath, feels it hot against her skin. His palm draws warmth up her side, rucking up her t-shirt to expose her bare stomach before his hand dives beneath the hem of the cotton to press flat against her ribcage. It’s shameful how quickly Mat can render her little more than a lolling, whimpering mess, back arched eagerly to chase his touch; she wants to kick herself for giving in so easily.

His hands move in tandem with his mouth, caressing, kneading, aiding her slow descent into madness. When he tugs the cotton over her head, grateful there’s no bra impeding his view, Mat swoops down to her breasts like a starving man getting his first taste of food; with a groan, his tongue swipes over a pebbled nipple. 

Aurora’s afraid to say his name, afraid that if she calls attention to the moment, he’ll snap out of it and stop. 

And she can’t have that. 

Hands roam, chased by hot breath and wet kisses, until she’s all but naked on her living room couch, as if she lives alone and doesn’t have roommates that could come home at any given moment. 

He doesn’t even bother to take her panties off, instead ripping them to the side and wetting his tip with her slick, teasing her folds for just a moment.

Mat pauses at her entrance, breath heavy in his chest. His eyes trail up to hers, and Aurora’s heartbeat ticks, afraid he’s going to change his mind right now, when she needs him more than she’s ever needed anything in her life.

And then his eyes slink over her body with a smirk, admiring her breasts, her curves, the way her legs have wrapped around his hips—when did that happen? Mat’s dick twitches when he realizes he has nowhere to go but inside the dripping wet cunt in front of him, perfect and tempting and waiting to be filled up. He lets the low groan rumble in his chest while his lips return to the spot he sucked into her neck.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” he murmurs against her skin. “Always think of you like this.”

Mat waits for only a moment, so brief that it flits by almost unnoticed, before he’s pushing in with a low groan. Aurora gasps at the sensation, infinitely better than everything her imagination conjures when her fingers slip between her thighs at night. Nothing replicates the feeling of him buried to the hilt inside her wet heat.

“How long you been thinkin’ ‘bout this, sweetheart?” he rasps once he grows accustomed to the way she squeezes him. “Been thinkin’ ‘bout you for a long time.”

Aurora’s fingers settle into the dip of his shoulders, breasts pressed into his chest. She tries to answer, but all that comes out is a moan. How can he expect her to speak when his hips are punching into her like they’re getting paid for it?

He’s smug at the way he’s rendered her speechless, entranced by the way she feels. Sensing he might not make it long, Mat focuses on his rhythm, finding the one that has her nails scratching down his back so he’ll have a perfect reminder of her wrapped around his dick.

When her moans escalate, he brings a hand between their bodies, watching the way her eyes flutter shut when he rubs at her clit. “Bein’ so good and so pretty for me, ‘Ror. Wanna feel you squeezin’ me while you come.”

She likes when he talks, judging by the way her breath hitches and her cunt tightens, so he keeps talking, muttering pretty, filthy somethings in her ear while he circles her clit. Before long, his whispers are covered by the sound of her crying out his name—she sounds the same as she did two years ago, sweeter this time now that he knows what she feels like when she comes. 

Later, when he slips out into the night, Aurora presses her fingers against the hickey on her neck, memorizing the feeling of his lips against her skin.

July 2019 - Vancouver, British Columbia  

Aurora takes a seat in the chiavari chair beside Gina, offering Dante a wave. A string quartet plays softly, ushering in wedding guests taking their seats before the ceremony. She’s there more out of obligation to the Fabbros, the bride a cousin of theirs that she’d grown up with, too.

Mat sidles in far too close to the start of the ceremony, plopping himself into the seat next to Aurora. He bumps shoulders with her, offering a grin when she mouths “hi” as the precessional begins.

The ceremony is sweet, the food is excellent, and Aurora can’t help but tear up at the best man’s speech during dinner. Afterwards, everyone is on the dance floor, moving and grooving to a Bruno Mars mashup. 

Everyone except two people.

Outside of the tent, Mat and Aurora are sitting on a bench, watching the sunset. Not feeling this song, Mat had murmured to her before jerking his head toward the tent opening, and who was she to say no to accompanying her friend to take in a Vancouver sunset?

“You think you’ll do all this?” The question is abrupt but curious, like his mind had been wandering and he blurted it out as soon as it appeared in his head.

“What? A wedding?”

He nods, gesturing around. “Yeah. You know, the flowers, the fuckin’… doilies, and shit.”

Aurora’s eyebrow raises as she hides a smile. “Do you even know what a doily is?”

“No, but it feels like something that would be here,” he says with a shrug. Dante’s loud laughter echoes from inside, piercing the quiet reprieve from the music. 

A few moments pass, the silence comfortable. “Yeah, I think I’d like to get married someday. Do the whole thing. No doilies, though.”

Mat snorts, nudging her knee with his. “Wonder what the guy's gonna be like.”

Aurora considers for a moment. In the few minutes they’ve been outside, the sun has slipped beneath the horizon, its dim, fading light still splaying out from behind the trees. Dusk looks good on him, she thinks. “He’s gonna get me flowers. And take care of me when I’m drunk. And he’s gonna be really, really good looking.”

Mat hums, impressed. “Damn. Sounds like a catch.”

“Duh. I’m a catch,” she says, to which Mat nods in agreement. “How about you?”

“She’s gonna have a great rack,” he replies, grinning so wide he almost ruins the delivery of the joke before he’s doubling over. Aurora snorts but joins him in laughter with a playful smack to the shoulder.

Inside the tent, the DJ makes some announcement that Aurora only half hears—something about grabbing a loved one. Mat extends a hand, smiles wide, and she ignores the thump of her chest as she slips her fingers against his palm. 

The anticipation pangs in her chest as he leads her to the dance floor. She feels a sliver of apprehension as he turns to face her, placing his hands respectfully on her waist. Instantly, there’s a flash of the night on the couch, of his lips against her skin; if he’s thinking about it, too, he doesn’t show any outward indication.

Any trace of discomfort dissipates once she gives in to his gravitational pull, hands lacing together behind his neck. He’s strong, sturdy, solid—the way he’s always been, ever-present and a constant in her life since she was 12. His eyes are warm, enveloping Aurora in his gaze until she forgets that there’s anyone else around. 

They sway through the remainder of the song, and when notes begin to slow, she finds herself wishing it would last longer. Fortunately, almost like the DJ is privy to her thoughts, the beat picks up, slow song melding into something more upbeat. Mat blinks, the bubble surrounding them popping unceremoniously. He can’t bring himself to let Aurora go, not when she feels so right in his arms.

With a dramatic pull, Mat spins her around, hand supporting her back as he dips her backwards. Aurora squeals, hand clutching onto his as her footing almost loses balance. Laughter bubbles out of her throat as Mat pulls her back upright, his eyes glowing with amusement. Suddenly, he’s looking to do anything to keep hearing that sound.

It takes a truly revolting love song for them to finally leave the dance floor, beelining toward the bar in search of liquid refreshment and a break. The rest of the evening is easy, full of elation and conviviality, the kind of night that makes your cup overflow and runneth over. 

That night, when Aurora slips into bed tipsy at 2AM with a contented sigh, she falls asleep dreaming of brown eyes and a crooked smile.

December 2022 – New York, New York

When Mat saw the text informing him that Aurora had a job interview for a Software Engineering Lead at TekStack in New York, he offered up his spare bedroom before she could even tell him the date. It would be a waste of money to stay at a hotel when he had an apartment he barely used, he said, and she could make a long weekend out of it and he’d show her around Long Island.

The grin on Mat’s face grows the instant he sees her, a gray coat draped over her arm as she wheels her carry-on behind her. He opens his arms and she falls into them, the way she has a hundred times. “Welcome to New York.”

“—it’s been waiting for you!” 

“Set you up for that on purpose,” he says, offering to take her bag. “You hungry?”

“Starving,” she replies. “But I really want to get the airplane off me first. Maybe takeout for tonight?”

Mat smiles. “Say no more. I know exactly the place.”

A few hours later, Aurora is seated at Mat’s counter, a spread of styrofoam across the quartz. Her suit is hanging in a garment bag on the back of the door to the guest bedroom, waiting to be pressed before her interview. It’s so familiar, the fondness, the sense of comfort, the shared laughter over a plate—or several—of food, but it’s no longer Dante’s family’s lakehouse or the Barzal family’s finished basement. This time, it’s Mat’s fancy apartment in Garden City, the rent alone more than what Aurora makes in a month.

But it’s still the same Mat sitting across from her. Same crooked smile, same easy laughter, same silly, unabashed personality. Admittedly, she was anxious wondering about how things would be; they’d hung out plenty over the summer, kept in touch via the group chat, but their one-on-one time had been limited the last few years.

Despite the apprehension, Aurora is surprised at how quickly they shake off the rust, barely needing any recoil time before it feels like old times. Of course, the camaraderie and pleasantries aren’t nearly enough to build up an immunity to his gray Lululemon sweatpants or the peek of his sculpted Adonis belt when he raises his arms in a lazy stretch. She wasn’t sure how she’d feel when she saw him, but she reluctantly accepts the steady beat of her heart in her chest that tells her her crush is, in fact, still holding strong.

They stay up chatting far longer than Mat anticipated, bedtime delayed even further when he offers to help her prepare for her interview, shrugging with a, I’m not tired anyway—anything to spend just a little more time with her. He Googles ‘Top Interview Questions’ and spends over an hour posing them to her, letting her work through how she’d answer each. Admittedly, he had never really had much practice in the way of a job interview outside of the pre-draft conversations he’d had with various NHL GM’s, but he had more than enough experience at preparing for an onslaught of questions—and how to shake off the nerves beforehand. 

“The thing I’ve learned most is to be concise,” he says, thinking back to when he first did NHL-mandated media training. “Don’t be afraid to take a few seconds after the question to think through what you want to say. That helps so you don’t ramble.”

“Don’t ramble. Got it.”

“And listen to some boss bitch music that hypes you up on your way in. It makes a difference. I promise.”

Aurora raises an eyebrow. “I’m gonna need to know what type of ‘boss bitch’ music you’re listening to pre-game, Barzal.”

“Megan Thee Stallion is my top preference,” he says with a grin, “but if you tell anyone that, I’ll deny it and say Drake.”

“Any last expert advice for me?”

“Get a good night’s sleep,” he says, then glances at his phone at the mention of the time. “Which means we’re about two hours behind schedule. Let’s get you to bed.”

Mat offers to carry her bag to the guest bedroom—decorated straight out of a West Elm catalog—and Aurora thanks him before bidding him good night. After changing into her pajamas, she quickly shakes off the urge to pad down the hallway and slip into Mat’s bed with him, reminding herself that that isn’t why she’s here. 

Instead, she settles into the soft sheets, feeling herself slipping right back into the old, familiar flutter in her chest. 

—

Serendipitously, the scheduling worked out perfectly: the interview was Friday at 1PM, and the Islanders hosted the Predators on Friday night at 7PM, which meant Dante would be in New York and around for post-game dinner, drinks, and a little mid-season reunion for the trio of friends. Aurora shook away the feeling that fate was somehow intervening.

Friday morning arrives, and Mat has morning skate, so he wishes her good luck with a tight hug before he shoves a protein bar in his mouth on his way out the door. For good measure, he sends a string of emojis (💪👩🏽‍💼✅💰) once he arrives at the rink, hoping they’ll give her an extra boost of confidence. 

Practice is relatively easy, more of the opportunity to move his body and run through some plays—nothing intense, preserving energy for the actual game. He’s thankful for a pretty painless practice as his mind continually floats to Aurora, wondering how her interview went. Mat isn’t quite sure why he feels so invested in her landing this role until he realizes that if she gets it, she’ll be moving to New York. 

“Barzy, you trying to go out after the game?” Oliver asks across the locker room. Mat’s tugging on a pair of sweatpants, fresh from his post-practice shower.

“He can’t,” Matt pipes in with a lopsided grin. “His girl is here.”

Mat groans, pressing a hand to his face as he points a middle finger in Marty’s direction. Next thing he knows, the chirps and wolf whistles fill the room and he feels Pierre aggressively nudge his shoulder.

“A girl?”

“Yeah, the hot brunette. Total smokeshow,” Casey fills in for him. 

“Woof woof, Barzy!”

“Get it, Matty B!”

“Fuck off,” Mat huffs, a dismissive hand directed at no one in particular. “She’s not my… girl.”

“She stayin’ at your place?” Dobson asks. “Gonna be at the game tonight?”

Mat nods, earning another chorus of whistles. He rolls his eyes as he tosses his gloves and practice jersey in the bin, ignoring the no pre-game sex jokes (“Can’t play 3 periods if you’ve already played one in the sheets”).

“If she’s not your girl, I’m definitely gonna make a move, then.”

“Fuck off, Dobber.”

—

Aurora arrives home from the interview to find a jersey folded on the bed, along with a handwritten note–thought you might want to have something to rep the home team. She sends back a text to Mat to thank him and respond to his inquiry about the interview before setting off to change and make her way to UBS.

The game is disappointing, if you’re an Islanders fan. But while Aurora is sporting the blue and orange jersey, she’s waiting excitedly for a Nashville Predator to meet her in the designated area Mat directed her to. 

When he rounds the corner, hair still wet from his shower, she runs up to him and leaps into his arms. Dante grins as he embraces her in a tight hug. “Feel stupid now for wearing the wrong colors tonight, huh?”

“I have to support my host,” she says with an eye roll. 

The host in question appears as if he’s been summoned, moving to hug his old friend, but not before his eyes drag over the 13 on Aurora’s arm. The three of them together just feels right, the dynamic shifted—but complete.

Once they’ve been seated at a high top in a bar in Rockville Centre, Dante turns to Aurora. “‘Ror, how was the interview?” 

“It went great,” she grins, accepting the fist bump Dante offers her. “I aced the coding exercise.”

“You’re such a badass. I picture you like one of those hackers in the movies.”

Aurora snorts, shaking her head. She thanks the waiter who places her drink in front of her. “It’s not really like that, but thanks.”

Conversation flows easily amongst the trio–only one comment from Dante razzing Mat for the 4-1 loss–and eventually the food arrives, along with another round of drinks. 

“So… you really gonna join us and become a Yank?” Dante probes over his meal. 

“To be honest, I don’t even know if I’d accept it,” she says quietly. Mat watches the way her lip disappears between her teeth as she contemplates; he doesn’t envy the gargantuan decision that lies ahead of her. “It’s a big move to make.”

As dense as he knows he can sometimes be, Mat recognizes this as a pivotal opportunity for him to share his own experience moving across the continent. He doesn’t have much in the way of advice, the distance something he just grew accustomed to in time, but he knows what it’s like; feeling the divide between him and the rest of his life like a bruise that won’t quite heal, the precious few-hour window where phone calls and texts make 5,000 kilometers feel like 10.

In so many words, he tells her so, aided by Dante’s supporting murmurs in a rare serious moment. Aurora absorbs it, if nothing else, comforted by the fact that they understand—kind of. It’s a little different moving cross-continent when you’re going to make millions of dollars, but money certainly doesn’t make the distance less of a burden to carry.

“FaceTime is your best friend,” Dante says, and Mat nods in agreement.

“Oh, is that why I get one FaceTime from you every two months?” she sticks her tongue out at Dante. Mat makes a mental note to FaceTime her more often. If she moves to New York, he won’t have to.

“No, that’s ‘cause you’re not my best friend,” Dante jokes, and Aurora scoffs playfully, eyes rolled in annoyance. 

Sensing the end of the semi-serious moment, Mat stands up. “Gotta rock a piss.”

“Charming, Barz.”

Dante watches Mat’s retreating figure, eyeing the brown locks until they disappear down the hallway toward the restrooms. His gaze moves to Aurora’s, lowering his head conspiratorially. “Is something happening?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You two. You seem… different.”

Aurora’s eyebrows raise. “Different how?”

“Just… different,” Dante shrugs, then takes another swig of his drink. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t know you’ve been in love with each other forever.”

Jaw dropping in shock, Aurora feels her face suddenly get very hot. “That’s not true!”

“Oh, I didn’t realize we were still in denial,” he says, feigning self-defense and fighting a smile. “My bad. I’ll go back to trying to ignore the way you googly eyes each other.”

“I do not make googly eyes at him!”

“Man, ‘Ror, that acceptance is really buried deep down in there, huh?” Dante grins, dodging the french fry she launches in his direction. Then, he’s back to serious—kind of. “I know it’s a big leap to take when you’ve been friends for so long, but you haven’t been subjected to seeing the way you look at each other. I wish you’d just make out already. It’s disgusting.”

Aurora doesn’t have the heart to tell him they’ve already done far more than make out—multiple times—and part of her is relieved that Mat never divulged that information to his best friend despite every opportunity to. This way, it’s their little secret, something for just the two of them to have. 

Mat’s return effectively ends the conversation. They pay their tabs—Aurora ignores Dante’s pointed look when Mat picks hers up without a word—and make their way to the next bar.

Several hours and far too many Palomas later, Mat unlocks the door to his apartment. He struggles slightly under the stumbling weight of Aurora, who’s latched onto him as she drunkenly giggles. He’s not much better off, but the Uber ride sobered him up enough to think to order DoorDash, conveniently arriving a few minutes after they get in the door.

Coaxing her to eat is a bit of a struggle, but he finally manages to get her into a barstool, munching contentedly on chicken tenders.

“C’mon, ‘Ror,” he murmurs once he sees she isn’t going to finish the third tender. He wraps an arm around her waist, helping her out of the seat to stand her up. “Let’s get you to bed, yeah?”

“Carry me!”

Without any additional warning, she’s leaping into his arms. Mat lets out an oof but manages to secure her in his arms as he carries her to the guest bedroom. When he places her on the mattress, her legs don’t untangle from his waist, and Mat feels the near instant pulse in his groin. Aurora’s eyes are closed, but her hips move, subtly, and he allows himself to revel in the feeling of her brushing against him. It doesn’t take long for his dick to become hard as steel, aided massively by the soft, sleepy whimpers that leave Aurora’s throat.

“Matty,” she whispers, hands seeking out the dips in his biceps.

Mat wants nothing more than to throw caution to the wind and devour her like he’s been aching to from the moment he saw a glimpse of her in a towel coming out of the shower this morning. He’s got just enough booze in his system to cloud his judgment, hand trailing up her side and savoring the warmth of her body against his palm. His dick twitches in his pants when he glides a hand over Aurora’s breast, yearning to tug the cups of that stupidly sexy corset down to repeat his fantasy.

But he doesn’t. 

Instead, he summons every single ounce of self-restraint left in his body and tears himself away from her tempting frame. Much to his chagrin, Aurora lets out the most devastating, disappointed mewl and Mat swears he can feel his heart (and dick) shatter at the sound.

“‘Ror,” he whispers. “We can’t.”

“Why not? S’not like we’ve never… done it before,” she slurs, reaching to run her hands across his pecs. He indulges in the feeling for just a brief moment, his resolve fleeting with every second.

“Not like this.”

“Y-you—” she hiccups, then frowns when he gently takes her hands off of him, “—you don’t… want me.”

“No,” Mat says quickly. He’s pretty sure she won’t remember in the morning, but if she does, he wants her to remember this. “I do. But I don’t want it to be like this.”

“Only wore this so you’d take it off,” she murmurs, and Mat groans, the devil on his shoulder whispering very strong reasons why he should give into temptation.

Ultimately, the good guy in him wins the battle, ignoring the throbbing of his dick when he helps Aurora to shimmy off her skintight leather pants. He does his best to avoid staring at the flimsy scrap of fabric between her thighs and pretends not to notice how little it covers. Her body is almost entirely dead weight as he tries to figure out how to remove her corset, eventually tugging it over her head; her breasts fall free, and he chokes on his own spit as he desperately looks around for something to cover her with. 

Dashing to his room, he grabs a t-shirt—only a little bit intentionally selecting an Islanders tee in order to see her wearing his colors again; on his way back, he pours a glass of water and grabs a bottle of Advil from the bathroom. When he returns, Aurora’s breathing is heavy and she’s lying in the same position he left her in, finally asleep. 

Mat places the water on the nightstand, then notices her phone and plugs it into the charger. Gently, he slides the t-shirt over her head and maneuvers her arms through the sleeves, then situates her and tucks her in before pulling the blanket up to her chin. With a kiss on her forehead, Mat quietly steps back to return to his room, ready to palm himself off, the image of her tiny panties and her tits seared into his brain.

Just before he shuts the door, he hears a quiet whisper of his name, a soft Matty in the darkness. He pauses, waiting for her to speak again.

“Stay.”

Something in her voice makes his heart ache. He stands, frozen in place, hesitant to return to her; afraid that he won’t have the willpower to resist her if she makes a move again. Like an unruly stepchild, his dick throbs as he adjusts himself.

“Please?”

Her voice is so sweet, he can’t help himself. His feet move of their own accord, back to the bed before he’s crawling under the covers beside her. Aurora’s arm immediately wraps around his stomach, snuggling into the crook of his shoulder. As he listens to her dozing off, Mat pretends it’s the alcohol that blankets his heart with warmth and not the girl sleeping soundly in his arms.

—

Bright light wakes her first. There’s a few, beautiful seconds of peace before the throbbing begins.

Aurora groans loudly, hand flying to shield her eyes. Timidly, she stretches her legs out slowly, to avoid the wave of searing pain through her skull. She has a memory of Mat’s hands touching her, dragging their way up her body, but she can’t decide if that was real or just a dream. Judging by the empty space next to her in bed, she assumes it was a dream.

She gropes for her phone on the bedside table—thankful that she had the foresight to plug in her phone in her inebriated state—and opens Instagram. Dante’s green Close Friends story bubble is one of the first she sees. The video that lies within makes her groan: it’s Aurora, illuminated by the dim, disco lights of the bar they ended up at in Rockville Centre, making an absolute fool of herself dancing. If you can even call it dancing. It’s more like a series of unhinged, discombobulated movements that barely follow the pulse of the music playing over the speakers.

But Mat Barzal is in the background, watching her like she put the stars in the sky. His eyes are warm, and the smile on his face is soft, relaxed; a look of adoration. Of love.

[Gina:] Are you going to tell me what’s going on with you and Mat? [Gina:] Dude is looking at you like you just birthed his firstborn on Dante’s story  [Gina:] Wait, he didn’t knock you up, did he?

Aurora snorts at the texts from her pseudo-sister. 

[Aurora:] Funny enough, your brother asked me the same thing [Aurora:] And no, he did not knock me up  [Gina:] Still waiting on the answer to my first question

Aurora is halfway through typing a message (“I’ll call you when I get home”) when she hears the front door open and close. A few seconds later, there’s a gentle knock at the door before a messy-haired Mat pokes his head in. “G’morning, sunshine.”

She groans, throwing the blanket over her head in an attempt to shield herself. “Can you stop yelling?”

He laughs, and though it’s lovely, the sound pierces her brain with a fiery stake. “So you don’t want me to tell you there’s bagels in the kitchen?”

Aurora peeks her head out from under the comforter. “Bagels, you say?”

“Bagel sandwiches,” he corrects. “Best on Long Island.”

Contemplating for a moment, Aurora glances at the glass of water on the nightstand, along with the two Advil sitting by it. He must have put them there this morning. She downs then, throws on a sweatshirt, and trudges into the kitchen behind Mat.

Aurora is convinced the bagel sandwiches have magic in them, reinvigorating her brain and hitting just the right spot. The two of them chew in silence for a while, Mat choosing to give her a few minutes to come back to life.

When he senses the medication might have kicked in, he speaks, slowly. He isn’t sure why he’s feeling so nervous. “Are you sure you have to go back today?”

She laughs and nods. “Sadly, I do have to get back to my actual job that I haven’t quit yet.”

“Just saying, you can come and be my roommate–free of charge. You just gotta do the dishes and help with a little laundry.”

Aurora’s eyebrow raises, taking a long sip of the hot mug of coffee he’d placed in front of her ten minutes ago. “So you want a live-in maid?”

“Well, when you say it like that…” Mat trails off with a laugh. “Really though. When are you supposed to hear back?”

“They just said in a couple weeks,” she shrugs. Only a few more weeks before life could change forever.

Something in their goodbye is different; a little bit timid, maybe even hesitant, but neither call it to attention. Mat gives her a squeeze in the departures lane, wishing her a safe flight, and Aurora promises to keep him updated on the job.

He watches her slip between the sliding doors, watching her figure retreat until he can’t see her anymore.

January 2023 — Vancouver, British Columbia 

Aurora huffs, blowing the hair out of her eyes as she concentrates on her phone in her hand. She types, deletes, then re-types her message. 

I got the job. 

Her finger hovers over the button to send, heart pounding. She doesn’t know why she’s nervous, not exactly, but she knows there’s a lot of weight behind those four words, knows that they have the potential to change everything. For her. For him. Everything.

[Mat:] Congratulations! Told you you’d kill it. 😊

The text is followed by a gif of Buddy the Elf, and Aurora almost snorts at the stupidity of it. She takes a breath, almost… disappointed? If nothing else, she was expecting a bit more excitement, more fanfare. 

Aurora presses down on the message and gives it a thumbs up.

Three hours later, she’s on the phone with Gina, gushing over the excitement of her job offer. She hasn’t even accepted it, but she’s still wistfully dreaming of how she might decorate her Manhattan apartment, anticipating the charm—among other things—of being in the greatest city in the world. 

Gina senses Aurora’s hesitation before she even says anything. “But…”

“…but if I go, I’m pretty sure I’m going to get my heart broken.” She can hear Gina contemplating on the other line, probably debating how to deliver her latest blow of hard-hitting advice.

Gina’s next sentence is quiet, but confident. “You just need to talk to him, ‘Ror.”

“I know.”

Aurora’s phone buzzes, but it isn’t until she gets off the phone with Gina a few minutes later that she sees the second text appear on her screen.

[Mat:] so, we gonna do this? [Aurora:] do what?

She watches the text bubbles appear, then disappear. The seconds feel like an eternity before a FaceTime call is popping up, a photo of 17-year-old Mat with upside down sunglasses on. Sliding to answer, she’s greeted by the sight of Mat, arm resting behind his head, silver chain peeking out of the hem of his white t-shirt. His hair is ruffled, and he’s looking at the camera with a knowing smirk.

“You and me,” he says simply. It takes Aurora a few moments to realize he’s responding to her text—and a few more before she realizes what he’s saying.

“You–are you—what?”

“You know, give it the old college try.” He offers a cheeky shrug of his shoulders, a flash of his charming smile.

“Mat, are you asking me out?”

“Were you expecting a grand proposal with roses and champagne?”

She ignores his snigger, too frenzied to acknowledge his sarcastic quip. Instead, she opts to get to the real question she has burning a hole in her chest. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I’ve been waiting for a chance with you since we were 15, ‘Rora. Jus’ never had one ‘til right now.”

Aurora’s jaw drops, words completely absent from her brain. This was everything she’d wanted to hear for the better part of a decade, and here he is, as casual as if he was asking her to pass the salt at the dinner table. 

Mat’s waiting for a response, so she shakes off the surprise and does her best to gather her composure. She isn’t sure what to feel: elated, irritated, and skeptical, and everything in between. “And you never thought to tell me you felt this way?”

He shrugs. “Jus’ did, didn’t I?”

Aurora resists the laugh at the simplicity of his Boy Brain. “Mathew Michael Paul Barzal, if you are fucking with me and this is some shit idea of a joke—”

“Why would I joke about something like that?” he says, then a glint takes over in his eyes. “I would like to be fucking you, though.”

An exasperated sigh leaves her throat, though she begrudgingly notes the way her stomach flips at his statement. “Can you not do—that—for five minutes, please? This is a lot of information to take in.”

Mat hums an apology, not really sorry. He watches the way she puts her phone down, his view now the slowly spinning ceiling fan in her apartment bedroom. He can hear the sigh, the sound of her feet padding slowly on the hardwood floor–pacing.

“I’m serious, Aurora.” He announces it out, loudly, maybe a little more formally than he expected. 

Her forehead peeks over the camera, frizzy, unstyled post-shower waves falling over her face. “Fuck, Mat.”

“You could come live with me in Garden City,” he says. “Take the subway in on the days you go into work. Could set up an office for you in the den.”

“Mat, I’m not fucking moving in with you when I don’t even know what this is,” she says, exasperated, ignoring the thought he’s clearly put into it all. She hears the words he’s saying, but after almost a decade of missed connections, crushed hopes, and mixed messages, she’s hesitant to really take them to heart. It’s a defense mechanism, not willing to trust him even though she’s pretty sure he’s serious. “Do you realize how insane you sound?”

“M’not,” he says, shakes his head for emphasis. “It’s always been you, Ror.”

At that, Aurora has to sit down, the weight of the words smacking her clean in the chest. She can feel the magic, the warmth, the fuzzies enveloping her heart, ready to soar into the clouds at what he’s saying. At the same time, she’s confused, uncertain, maybe a little angry. More frustrated than mad, really, but she knows she deserves an explanation all the same.

“Why haven’t you said anything this entire time? It’s been years, Mat. I’ve loved you since we were fifteen—waiting this whole time to hear you say this, to give me any fucking clue that maybe you felt the same way.”

He looks like a puppy who has been scolded for destroying a roll of toilet paper. Then, “You think I don’t want to be with you?”

“You never gave a sign. You never even acknowledged what happened between us.”

It’s the first sign of any remorse when Mat sighs, his eyes cast down from the camera. “I—I thought it was casual. We’ve lived so far apart I just thought—”

“—thought it wasn’t worth it?”

“No,” he says quickly, looking up to meet her gaze. “I thought you wouldn’t want to do it. The distance.”

“Thought you regretted it,” she admits. Her voice is so quiet Mat barely hears it.

“Regret sleeping with the girl I’ve been in love with since I was in high school? Yeah, okay,” he snorts. “My only regret is that we haven’t been doing it all this time.”

Aurora hums, overwhelmed by his confession—if you can call it that—and the influx of feelings that have inundated her chest. What he’s saying makes sense, in a twisted, boy-math kind of way.

“What does being—” she swallows the word girlfriend like a disgusting cough syrup. “—together look like?”

“Whatever you want it to look like.”

“What do you want it to look like?”

Mat hums. He thinks, envisions what calling Aurora his girl—for real, not just when he’s getting razzed by his teammates–would look like. A picture of waking up with her in his arms, sleepy and smiling. Eating takeout on the couch, her feet in his lap, sporting one of his t-shirts while they catch up on Succession. Seeing her in the stands at UBS, wearing his number on her back. Laughter, comfort, happiness. Home. 

In other words, the entire weekend he spent with her.

“Don’t say something stupid like, ‘unlimited sex’,” she adds, the dreamy smile on his face alerting her to the idea that some of his thoughts may, perhaps, be unsavory.

“Wasn’t gonna,” he replies, “but now that you mention it…”

“I’m going to hang up.”

“I’m just joking, ‘Ror. I mean, don’t get me wrong, that would be top of my list. But you gotta know that you’re way more to me than just great tits and a fat ass.”

“Mat!”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he says, holding a hand up as if to defend himself from her scathing tone. Aurora’s eyes roll and she scoffs, though Mat swears he sees the corner of her lip turn up just slightly. “I’d… want it to look exactly like this.”

Aurora blinks, not expecting such a simple answer—not that she had any idea of what to expect out of his mouth, ever. The concept that they’re already there, minus the labels, is… overwhelming. A little bit unnerving, because everything that flicks through her mind just feels like more and more evidence that he’s right. Dante, Gina, everyone else saw it—she’d just been blind to it the whole time.

“So,” he says slowly, afraid to pop her thought bubble. “What d’you say?”

“Wish you were here and not on FaceTime,” she mumbles, embarrassed at the vulnerability that slips out.

“I’ll get a flight to Vancouver right now, if it helps.”

Aurora smiles melancholy, and it tastes bittersweet. She knows he’s serious, would be by her side as soon as humanly possible, if she asked. But she also knows his influence will only sway her in one direction, and she needs to make sure she’s making an unbiased decision.

“Ror?”

“I–I need some space, okay?”

“I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

—

The next week is a blur, a mess of emotions and running through the same scenarios in her head over and over again. Aurora sits at the countertop on FaceTime with Gina, dissecting the options for what feels like the thousandth time. 

“I don’t know what he doesn’t understand about space but this sure isn’t it,” she says, glancing at the bouquet of flowers sitting in a pretty—and expensive—glass vase.

“I think it’s sweet,” Gina insists. “Besides, we all know he isn’t the smartest.”

“It feels like he’s pressuring me, Gin,” Aurora says.

Gina rolls her eyes. “So he wants to show you he cares after years of burying his feelings. Sue the guy, why don’t you?”

Dusting a crumb off of the kitchen counter, scrolling through the relocation document TekStack had sent her along with her offer, Aurora sighs. Gina’s right; other than the flowers, he’d cooled it on everything else, and she missed it—the stupid memes, the goofy texts, the random (and gross) Snapchat series of him peeing in different cities. Missed him.

“Can’t wait to visit you. Keep the sex to a minimum while I’m in the guest bedroom, ‘kay?”

“Shut up!”

February 2023 — New York, New York

Mat fidgets, wiping his hands on his sides before glancing at his watch for the 16th time in five minutes. 3:17pm. Any minute now.

When he sees her coming down the catwalk, he doesn’t think twice; his strides quicken, along with the tick of his heart, and his fingers itch in anticipation. When he reaches her, he ignores the look of surprise on her face, hands cupping her jaw and pulling her mouth to his in a kiss that takes her breath away.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly when she pulls away, an expression of pure shock on her face. “Should’ve been telling you that for years. Please, please, please be mine. For real.”

The corners of Aurora’s lips twitch before they curl into a smile, and Mat has to resist the urge to kiss her again before she can even answer.

“Thought you said you weren’t gonna do an elaborate proposal,” she says with a laugh. 

“Would, if that’s what it took,” he mumbles. He knows he’s being a simp, but he’s not missing this chance now that it’s right in front of him, so close he can taste it—literally. Her chapstick lingers on his lips, subtle but enough that he knows it’s all her.

“Lucky for you, Barzy, I think an airport love confession is the perfect amount of elaborate.”

SIMILAR CONTENT

The Mystery of Love* Third Time’s the Charm* Adore You

[inmyglenpowellera]

Bad Reputation Part 2 | Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Taylor Swift inspired!OC

Request: Requested by @akornsworld

Word Count: 9678 words

Summary: There's that saying for some people, “You can't go home again.” When you grow up and leave, that's it, you don't go back home. Presley Joann Benjamin (stage name Presley Jo) believed that was the case for her. Never did she think she would be right back where she started. But her Aunt insisted it was the best for her. She thought for sure her life and career were over until she meets a certain cocky aviator.

Warnings: Alcohol use, angst, maybe some cursing, fluff, crying, Jake being an absolute gentleman

A/N: SURPRISE, I'm not dead, life just sucks ass. Here's an extra-long chapter to make up for my sucking. Hope you like it, I promise the next chapter will have the sexuals. The tag list will be at the end of each chapter.

Chapter 1 Chapter 3

You’d think that after Hangman’s smug answer of still getting my number and buying me a drink, he would have immediately jumped at the opportunity to do so. But that wasn’t the case, much to my confusion. I continued showing up to The Hard Deck to help Penny with various tasks before opening, seeing the aviators there every time, minus Bradley who was apparently out of town packing his items in Virginia to send here. (The Dagger Squad has recently become a permanent fixation in Fightertown). However, despite the number of times I have seen the blonde aviator in the past week, he has yet to make another attempt at getting my phone number. Sure there was still the near-constant flirting, but otherwise nothing.

I was, once again, playing the piano in The Hard Deck, losing myself in the music, when the front door burst open and caught Penny and I’s attention.

“Now I know that beautiful piano playing can only come from my very own star student,” a voice yelled out as they walked into the bar.

I let out a squeal of glee at the sight of a Hawaiian shirt, mustache, and aviators walking further into the bar.

“Bradley,” I called out, running over to him and jumping into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“How you doin’ Queenie? I leave for a month to pack up my old place and you move back into town,” Bradley greeted me with an equal amount of excitement, holding me up by my thighs and spinning me around before releasing me.

“I’m great, Killer. Glad you’re back. It’s been boring here with Penny and Mav. The only amusement I have is Amelia,” I told the older male.

“Now I know that’s a lie,” Maverick said as he walked in the door behind us.

“You know I’m joking, Mav,” I called out to him as he walked past us towards Penny.

“That's not what he's talking about,” Penny smirked at me with a knowing look.

I widened my eyes and slightly shook my head.

“What are they talking about,” Bradley asked me, going into protective older brother mode.

“Nothing, ignore them,” I reassured him, shrugging the two older adults off.

Bradley nodded in acknowledgment before a look of concern took over his face. “Hey, do you want to talk about it?”

I didn’t have to have so many hints to know what he was referring to. “Not right now. You’re back and I’m happy. Let’s not bring down the mood.”

Bradley nodded at me in understanding before gripping my hand in his own.

“But you know what would make my mood even better,” I offered up.

“What,” Bradley asked me curiously.

“If you play our song,” I requested, leading him towards the piano.

“Oh, god. Please don’t make me,” Bradley groaned sarcastically, willingly following me towards the piano.

“Pleeeeease,” I begged him with a grin.

“Fine,” he agreed, sitting on the bench with me.

“Yay,” I cheered, wrapping my arms around him in a quick hug.

Bradley settled in and ran his fingers over the keys, lightly playing a few before settling his fingers on the correct keys.

“Do I really have to play it right now,” Bradley slightly whined.

“Yes, it's been so long since you played me the only song you helped me write,” I nudged him.

“You wrote it, I merely assisted with occasional input. You should be the one to play it,” he argued with me.

“Bradley Nicholas Bradshaw, just play the damn piano,” I said sternly, focusing a glare on him.

“Alright, alright,” he huffed out.

Bradley began playing the opening notes to my song “Ours.” He nudged me to try and get me to sing, but all I did was shake my head with a hesitant smile. He furrowed his brows, concern in his eyes for a brief moment before he looked back at the piano. I quietly watched him play and propped my head on his shoulder as he did. I could see Penny and Mav working and watching the two of us out of the corner of my eye, whispering to each other now and then. I rolled my eyes at the two of them and continued watching Bradley until the front door opened again. I tensed up and Bradley stopped playing, moving to wrap his arm around my shoulders and place a kiss on the top of my head.

“Hangman, you’re early,” Mav said to the blonde aviator in surprise.

“Yeah, well, nothing wrong with being ahead of schedule,” He explained to Mav with his classic Hollywood smile.

I rolled my eyes at his words and sighed, leaning further into Bradley.

“Well congratulations on being early, Hangman, why don’t you go ahead out to the beach and claim your spot for the day,” Bradley offered up, trying to get rid of him for me.

“I will, once I get a beer,” Jake told him, moving to stand in front of Penny. 

The woman nodded and started grabbing it for him, causing him to turn and lean against the bar, his stare burning into the side of my head, unrelenting. I removed myself from Bradley’s side and placed my hands on the keys, filling the silence of the space once again. Bradley placed his hand on my knee while I played and nudged me now and then in an attempt to mess me up. I would just laugh and nudge him back and continue playing until Jake spoke up.

“What, no good morning for me, Darling?”

I stopped playing and briefly glanced up at him with a blank face. “Good morning, Hangman.”

Jake’s face became a look of confusion at me calling him “Hangman” instead of “Jake” or “Mr. Eastwood.”

“So you two have met already,” Bradley realized, his hand on my knee tightening slightly. 

“Yep,” I said simply, continuing my playing.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” He asked me curiously.

“Because it was nothing worth discussing,” I informed him, ignoring the hurt look that briefly flashed on Jake’s face.

“I’m sure that’s not true sweetheart,” Jake tried arguing.

“It is. Considering you haven’t said much to me since then,” I argued with him, looking up at him with a blank face.

Jake remained silent, staring at me in deep thought. All I did was shrug at him and gesture my head towards the back door. 

“Looks like your beer is ready for you Hangman. Better go claim your spot on the beach before everybody else shows up.”

The five of us went silent after my words, Jake staring at me in shock. The silence remained for a few seconds before Mav cleared his throat.

“Presley, we left a few things in Bradley’s truck, you wanna help him grab them real quick and take them down to the beach?”

I silently nodded at him before standing from the piano bench. I gripped Bradley’s hand in my own and pulled him out the front door with me to the Bronco. What I missed when I was exiting was Jake glaring at our hands with disdain.

A few hours later, Dogfight football was over and the aviators were clearing out to go home and clean up before returning to the Hard Deck for Friday night drinks. Mav and Bradley returned inside to tell Penny and me they were leaving and would be back later. I smiled at the two men in acknowledgment and wrapped myself around Bradley like a koala bear once again, causing him to laugh and place his hands under my thighs. Our laughs were cut off by the back door of the bar opening and Hangman walking in, a small garbage bag in his hands. He looked between the two of us and glared, rolling his eyes before looking at Penny.

“Penny my dear,” He called out, causing Penny to turn to him. “Where do you want me to put this?”

“Oh, you can go ahead and take it out to the dumpster. Presley, can you show him where it is,” Penny called back to me. 

I sighed and nodded, Bradey releasing me back to the ground. I began walking towards the kitchen doors, through the kitchen, and to the side door that leads to the dumpster.

“You know, I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend. If I knew that I wouldn’t have tried to get your number,” Jake said to me as he walked past me and threw the trashbag in the dumpster.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” I told him, furrowing my brows in confusion. “And don’t use that as an excuse for how you have been the past week.”

“I’m not using it as an excuse, even though I have no idea what you mean. And I’m talking about how you have been acting today with Rooster,” Jake told me, placing his hands on his hips.

“Rooster,” I said in confusion.

“Yes, Rooster,” Jake nodded.

I stared at him for a second with confusion still on my face. “Who the fuck is Rooster?”

“Bradshaw,” He supplied for me.

Realization ran over me like a truck. “Bradley?” Jake nodded at me. “Bradley Bradshaw?”

“Yes,” Jake told me impatiently.

“Bradley’s not my boyfriend,” I told him with a shake of my head.

“He’s not,” He asked me in confusion.

“No. He’s not. He’s like my brother,” I explained to him.

“Oh…,” Jake said meekly.

“Jesus Christ,” I sighed out to myself, shaking my head and moving to go back inside.

“Well, can I get your number then,” Jake called after me.

I stopped in my tracks and looked back at him. “No,” I shouted at him in disbelief.

“Why not,” He asked me in an offensive tone.

“Why not? Did you seriously just ask me that,” I questioned him back in disbelief. “I can list off all of the reasons if you would like me to. Let’s start with the fact that you basically ignored me all week and just made a little flirtatious comment here and there.”

“I wouldn’t say I ignored you,” He argued with me.

“Really? Then what would you call it, Hangman,” I questioned him.

Jake went quiet as he looked up at the sky in thought, trying to decide what he was going to say.

“Exactly,” I scoffed.

“Okay, fine, I’ll admit that my actions the past week haven’t been the best. But please don’t let that affect the image you have of me. I’m just Jake, stop calling me Hangman,” Jake shrugged at me.

“Should I also add on the fact that you thought the guy who I grew up with was my boyfriend,” I offered up, causing him to wince.

I once again rolled my eyes and turned around, opening the door to go back inside. I made it halfway through the kitchen before Jake grabbed my arm and stopped me from walking any further. 

“Okay, Presley, I’ll admit it, I was a jackass. A complete Jerk. I’m sorry. Just, please give me a chance to show you the real me. Okay? Not Hangman, Jake. Let me get your number, let me take you on a date. Whether that is to just get drinks or an actual dinner,” Jake begged me.

“Why are you so desperate to go on a date with me, Hangman, huh,” I questioned him curiously, turning to look at him with a glare.

“First of all, I believe I told you to call me Jake,” he told me, raising a single finger in my face. “Second-”

He didn't get to continue when I cut him off by grabbing his finger and pulling his hand out of my face. “Don't put your finger in my face.” 

Jake let a small smirk come over his lips before throwing his hands up in surrender and stepping back from me. “Sorry, Darlin’.”

“Don't call me Darlin’ either,” I demanded, imitating his accent and crossing my arms over my chest.

“How about sweetheart instead,” Jake offered up, his smirk widening as he shoved his hands in his shorts pockets. My glare hardened at his words, causing him to shrug in acknowledgment. “Alright, I get it, nicknames are off the table.”

I scoffed and rolled my eyes, shaking my head at him. 

“What do you want from me? An autograph? Private show for you and your closest friends and family? The chance to say you went on a date with and stole “The Princess's” innocence? Because I can promise you, that ship sailed long ago,” I rattled off.

“Honestly,” Jake asked me, not taking his eyes full of clear amusement off of me.

“No, lie to me,” I sarcastically replied with an eye roll.

Jake let a chuckle of amusement escape before stepping close to me once again. “I want a chance.”

“A chance for what,” I huffed.

“A chance to be able to show you how you deserve to be treated. To stand on your doorstep holding flowers on our first date, tell you that you look absolutely beautiful before walking you to the car, where I will open the door for you and help you into your seat, which, FYI, won’t be the only time I open the door and help you into your seat that night. I want a chance to walk you back up to your door at the end of the night and tell you, for probably the thousandth time that night, how beautiful you look and tell you “No thank you, I don’t want to join you inside.” Because let’s be honest, you are going to be so impressed and obsessed with me by the end of the night you’ll want nothing more than to get me into bed with you, but you deserve more respect than that so I’ll just place a kiss on your cheek, tell you I’ll call you, watch you walk inside, and wait till I hear the lock click before leaving just to be sure that you got in safely.” He said softly with an equally soft smile, looking down at me with adoration in his eyes.

I shook my head at him with a small laugh of disbelief. “Is that all?”

“No. Finally, I want a chance to go home at the end of the night, and text you “Goodnight beautiful, sweet dreams”, you be the last thing on my mind before I go to sleep and the first when I wake up, and text you “good morning sweetheart” with a little winky face emoji despite how much I despise the use of them,” He finished, winking at me.

I stared at him in silence for a moment, taking him and his words in. Weighing the pros and cons in my head, the pros very obviously outweigh the cons in numbers but not in severity. I looked down at the floor, taking in my Converse and his sandals shoes before sighing and looking up at the aviator.

“My favorite flowers are white roses and blue baby’s breath, and I love Italian food,” I told him simply.

He held my stare, nodding in acknowledgment as he tried to hold back a smile. “Noted.”

I shook my head at him again and tried to force down my smile as well. “You can pick me up at 6. If you’re even a minute late, I’m changing into my PJs and watching rom-coms with Amelia.”

“Don’t plan on it, sweetheart,” He reassured me.

I shook my head at him in disbelief once again before turning to walk away from him. “See you tomorrow night.”

“I’m counting on it,” He called out to me as I walked away.

“Okay, what do you think,” I asked Amelia, turning around from my mirror for her and Theo to see the simple high-waisted skirt and tucked-in white button-up I was wearing.

I watched the teen and dog sitting on my bed tilt their heads as I spun around for them to see the whole outfit. I stopped when I was facing them again, watching them scrutinize me. They were silent for a moment before Theo released a small noise, causing Amelia to nod in agreement with him.

“Theo’s right, it’s not nice enough,” She hummed out.

I sighed in frustration and slapped my thighs. “Amelia, this is the third outfit I’ve tried on.”

“Well, keep trying stuff on because we haven’t found the right thing yet,” She told me, causing Theo to bark in what seemed like agreement.

I glared at the two of them before turning back towards my closet and going through my clothes again. I reached the section filled with dresses and began looking through them carefully when Amelia gasped.

“That’s the one! The little black dress, it’s a classic,” She squealed, hopping off my bed and grabbing it out of the closet.

I gasped at her before grabbing it. “Oh, no.”

“Why not,” She asked me in frustration, trying to grab it back.

“Because this dress is special. It’s a third date dress, at least,” I stressed to her, moving it out of her grip and hanging it back up.

“How is it a third date dress,” She argued with me.

I looked over the dress, taking in the straps that were just tied, meaning easy access. I cleared my throat before looking over at her and shrugging. “Reasons.” Amelia rolled her eyes and didn’t look like she was going to let her question go unanswered. “Look, you’re in high school, so you may or may not understand the concept, but when you start to get older you have certain clothing items that you deem third-date material.”

“Like…,” She trailed off.

I rolled my eyes before pointing at the dress. “Like a dress that you feel really… hot… in. Or a bra that shows off the goods.”

“A bra, really,” She asked in disbelief.

“Yes, I have a third date bra. Two actually,” I informed her, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Hm. Can I have a third date bra,” She asked me curiously, placing her hands on her hips.

I sat for a moment in silence, contemplating my answer. “I’ll get you one when you’re older,” I told her turning back to my closet.

I moved my black dress out of the way to look at the next dress, a hum escaping me at the light blue dress hanging in front of me. A simple mini dress with a tiered flowy bottom that ended about mid-thigh and instead of a zipper bringing together the back of the dress there were two bows to tie together.

“That’s it,” Amelia said from over my shoulder, Theo barking once again to seemingly voice his agreement.

I paired the dress with a pair of white stilettos and a white blazer. I lightly curled my light brown hair so it fell in waves and did a simple makeup look with my signature red lips. I decided to do a set of pearl earrings with a matching necklace and bracelet with my mom's rings resting on my right ring finger. I stepped back from my mirror and smoothed my dress down, turning around so I could see the back as well. I released a hum of appreciation for myself when I heard the doorbell ring at 6 o'clock on the dot. I listened to Theo barking and Amelia yelled out that she would get it. I widened my eyes and spun around to grab my clutch before booking it out of my room.

“No, Mia, I got it,” I yelled out to her, rushing through the hallway and down the stairs. 

When I reached the bottom, I looked over to see a teenage girl with a dog sitting by her heels interrogating a grown adult man.

“What exactly are your intentions with my cousin,” Amelia asked Jake.

Jake released a chuckle, clutching the flowers in his hands closer to his chest. “I intend to take her to a nice dinner and treat her with the utmost respect.”

“Are you going to hold the door open for her and help her into her seat,” she questioned him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“That was the plan. You can ask her yourself,” he said with a light smirk.

“And if you touch her…,” Amelia trailed off.

“Nothing more than respectful hand-holding and a kiss on the cheek… with her permission of course,” Jake reassured.

“Good, because I may be tiny, but I know people and I have a dog that's ready to defend when necessary,” Amelia threatened Jake, causing his face to contort in amusement.

I chose this time to walk over to the door and wrap my arm around the teenager.

“Okay, Amelia, thank you,” I said to her as I steered her away from the door.

Once she was no longer facing Jake she dropped her stern expression and looked at me with a big grin. “I like him, keep him,” she whispered to me.

“Well, it's hard for me to decide if I want to keep him if I don't go on a date with him,” I whispered back to her, sending her and Theo on their way.

I turned back to the door to see Jake staring at me in amazement. I blushed as he raked his gaze up and down my form before he met my eyes. I let a small smile grow on my face and clasped my clutch in front of me.

“Hi,” I said softly.

“Wow,” Jake released a breath and nodded at me. “You didn't hold back did you?”

I raised my eyebrows in question, causing his smile to widen at my oblivious expression. 

“You don't just look beautiful, Darlin’. You look angelic,” he told me.

“Angelic, huh,” I murmured, looking down at my feet before looking at him shyly from under my lashes.

The two of us stood in silence staring at each other for a few seconds before Amelia stepped forward once again.

“Are those for Presley,” she asked, gesturing to the flowers in Jake's hand.

The two of us broke our gaze, I whipped my head around to look at her briefly before looking quickly back at Jake. Jake briefly widened his eyes and looked down at the flowers before looking back up at the two of us. 

“Uh, yes, they are,” he said, holding them out to me.

I accepted them and a smirk formed on my lips. “White roses and baby's breath.”

“Yeah, I heard someone say they were your favorite,” he smirked back at me.

I shook my head in amusement at him as Amelia spoke up again.

“I can put them in a vase for you if you'd like?” 

I looked back at Amelia and nodded. “Yes, please, Amelia. I would appreciate that. Thank you.” 

Amelia nodded back at me and took the flowers from my hands. “I'll put them in your room for you. You have fun.”

“Thank you, Amelia, we will,” Jake told the teenager, reaching forward to grab my hand and therefore sending my attention back towards him.

I raised my eyebrow at him and allowed him to pull me closer to him. Jake smiled at me and pulled me out the door, closing it behind us, and led me to his car.

“Why am I not surprised that you own a pickup truck,” I questioned rhetorically.

Jake's smile widened as he led me to the passenger side. He opened the door and looked at me before shrugging.

“It's part of the cowboy starter pack, along with a hat, boots, a flannel, blue jeans, and a really big belt buckle,” Jake replied sarcastically.

I smirked and shook my head at him. “Is that all?”

“Nope, it also comes with a certain charm that makes it very hard for a woman to say no to me,” He added, a smirk growing on his face too.

“Oh, really,” I asked in a sarcastic tone.

“Mhm,” He hummed.

I rolled my eyes and moved closer so I was standing right in front of him. “I don’t think that’s true.”

“Well, we’re here aren’t we,” Jake said, referring to our date.

I scoffed and went to reply to him, but I cut myself off with a squeal as Jake bent down to pick me up, delicately placing me in his passenger seat. I looked at him with wide eyes as he pulled the seatbelt from where it was resting and reached over me to buckle me in.

“I can do it myself,” I reminded him.

“I know. This way, if you try and run off from me before our date even starts, I know it will take you longer to get out of my truck,” He told me with a wink before closing the door.

I watched him walk around the front of the truck before climbing in on his side and starting the car. He reached over and placed one hand on my seat and looked behind him as he backed out with one hand. I watched with rapt attention and felt myself blush at his actions. Jake glanced over at me when he finished and smirked at my reaction, causing me to roll my eyes and my blush to darken as he drove off toward our destination.

I felt my eyes widen in shock at the restaurant he pulled up to, one of the most expensive Italian restaurants in San Diego.

“Jake, we don’t have to eat here,” I reassured him, glancing over at him quickly.

“You said you wanted Italian. I'm taking you to get Italian,” he told me, getting out of the truck and handing his keys to the valet, jogging around the vehicle to get to my side and open the door for me.

“I would have been perfectly fine with a hole-in-the-wall diner,” I explained, accepting his hand to help me out of the truck.

“Absolutely not. I'm getting the best food for the best girl. You deserve nothing less,” Jake told me, gripping my hand tightly in his and leading me into the restaurant.

“I just want to be sure that you brought me here because you wanted to, not because you felt like you had to because of who I am,” I argued with him, watching him pull the door to the restaurant open and hold it for me.

“Presley, I can promise you that I am bringing you here of my own volition,” Jake reassured me as I walked past him. 

Jake held his arm out for me to wrap around before leading me up to the host stand.

“Reservation for Seresin,” Jake told the young woman.

The woman looked up with a bright smile which turned into shock when she saw me.

“Oh, my god. You're Presley Jo,” she gasped out.

“Yep,” I nodded at her looking around and hoping no one else said anything.

“I love your music. You are literally so amazing. I totally don't believe anything that's being said about you by the way. Especially not by that disgusting perv that is now your ex-manager,” she said quickly, causing me to become uncomfortable with the topic at hand.

“Okay,” I said awkwardly, tightening my grip on Jake's arm.

The young girl went to speak again but was cut off by who I'm assuming is the manager.

“Miss Benjamin, if we would have known you were going to be coming to our fine establishment we would have planned for your arrival a little better.”

“Oh, that's not necessary,” I reassured, leaning into Jake.

“Nonsense. I'll get the best table for you,” he told me, beginning to snap his fingers to get a worker's attention.

“That's not- whatever was originally set up for the Seresin reservation is just fine,” I reassured the man, but I was ignored as he walked away to get a table for us.

“So… is this what it's like every time you go out,” Jake asked me curiously after remaining silent the entire interaction.

I sighed and nodded, avoiding eye contact with him. “Sadly.”

We remained quiet for a second before I broke it.

“If you don't want to continue, I understand. You can take me home now and I won't say anything negative to Penny, Amelia, Maverick, or Rooster,” I reassured him, giving him an out if he wanted it.

“I'm not taking you home,” he argued with me.

“Jake, it's fine if you do,” I argued back.

“Presley Joanna Benjamin,” he said above me, causing me to go quiet and stare at him in shock, a slight heat pooling in my stomach at his tone of voice. “I am not taking you home. I said I was going to take you on a date and treat you how you deserve to be treated. Let me do that.”

“Fine,” I said reluctantly, blushing and looking at my feet.

“Thank you. Now enjoy yourself,” he told me, reaching down, grabbing my clutch out of my hand to hold in his own, and intertwining his empty hand with my own.

The manager returned and led Jake and me to our table, which was placed in the middle of the room for everybody to see. Everyone stared at the two of us as Jake pulled my chair out for me before going around the table to sit on his own. The waiter came and took our drink orders, wine for me, and whiskey for Jake. We were just beginning to look at the menus when a flash went off from next to me. I looked over to see a young girl with her family holding her phone up towards me.

“Oh, no. Please don't post that,” I begged the girl, beginning to push my seat back from the table.

Jake lifted his head and looked at me in confusion before following my gaze. He noticed the girl tapping on her screen and sighed.

“Presley,” Jake whispered to me, trying to get my attention.

“Seriously, please don't,” I begged her, ignoring him.

The girl looked up from her phone and smirked. “What, scared for everyone to find out you tricked another guy into dating you?”

I gulped at her words and fought back the tears.

“I never tricked anybody into dating me,” I told her quietly.

“Tell that to the paparazzi when they get here,” she said smugly before posting the photo.

I could feel the color drain from my face at her actions and continued staring at her phone in horror. I immediately grabbed my clutch off the table and stood from my seat.

“We have to go,” I announced to Jake.

“Presley, we just got here,” Jake argued with me.

“Yes, and believe it or not even though we live in San Diego, the paparazzi will be here in about 5 minutes, 10 if we're lucky. And considering I've been sneaking around and staying out of trouble, they're going to be even more desperate to get my picture,” I argued back with him, turning away from the table and beginning to walk to the exit.

“Presley, hold on, just wait,” Jake called after me, jumping from his seat and rushing after me.

I made it to the lobby of the restaurant before Jake grabbed my arm and stopped me in my tracks, pulling me towards him.

“Presley, let's just wait a second, okay,” he said calmly, soothingly rubbing my arms.

“I don't have time to just wait a second, Jake. What do you not understand about that," I told him, my frustration building.

“Pres, come on, just talk to me,” he begged me, leaning down to look into my eyes.

“I will be more than happy to talk to you in the car. Come on,” I told him, tilting my head towards the door.

“I'm not going to get the car, alright? Let's just sit down, have a drink, and-”

“I DON’T HAVE THE LUXURY TO JUST SIT DOWN IN PUBLIC AND HAVE A DRINK AND A NICE CONVERSATION, JAKE, OKAY,” I yelled, cutting him off. 

Jake went quiet and stared at me in shock, dropping his hands from my arms and down to his sides. He opened his mouth to speak again, but I continued before he could.

“You’re asking me to do something I haven't had the luxury of doing in a very long time because people are always on my ass just waiting for the second I screw up all so they can capture it on film and sell it to the highest bidder. And if you want a good example of that, well just look at what they're saying about me right now all because I refused to let some perv use me to his advantage,” I blurted out.

“Presley-,” he started again.

“No you just don't get it, Jake, okay,” I cut him off, tears building up in my eyes from my frustration.

“Then help me to understand,” he begged me.

I looked into his bright green eyes and took a deep breath.

“This isn't something that I can explain and you just magically understand, Jake. This has been my entire life for the past 10 years,” I snapped out.

Right as I finished my statement, a crowd began forming out in front of the restaurant, flashes going off as the cameras pointed at us. I looked over and stared at them for a moment, sighing in frustration before looking at Jake.

“And now it's going to be yours for the next 10 minutes. Enjoy,” I shrugged at him, gesturing towards the large crowd before walking towards the exit.

“Presley,” Jake called out, trying to get me to stop. “At least let me drive you home,” he called out to me.

“No, thank you,” I called back to him, pushing the front door open and beginning my trek through the paparazzi.

All of them began shouting questions at me as the valet began trying to help me shove through the group. Asking me questions like where I've been hiding, what are my plans for my career, and the dreaded when will I speak out on what has happened? I kept my head down and pushed my way through the crows of yelling and flashing lights. When I reached the curb, the valet assisted me in calling a cab, waving his arm around to grab the attention of the car. I sighed out a quick thank you and handed him some spare cash I had in my clutch before climbing in and shouting my address to the driver and telling him to step on it. The last thing I saw as I drove away was Jake standing in the doorway of the restaurant with a heartbroken look.

When I got home I immediately walked up to the front door, dug my house keys out of my clutch, and unlocked the door. I walked in threw my keys down in the bowl and slipped my heels off as Theo came running around the corner to greet me. I turned and locked the door before throwing my clutch on the cabinet in the entryway.

“Hey, buddy,” I sighed, rubbing his head before walking into the living room.

“Hey, that was quick,” Amelia said to me in shock, looking over the back of the couch at me.

“We didn’t even make it to the appetizers,” I said blandly after releasing a groan.

“That bad,” Amelia asked curiously.

I walked into the living room and collapsed on the couch with a sigh. Amelia adjusted her blanket so it was covering the two of us and Theo hopped on the couch between the two of us after her actions. He spun around a few times before settling, his head resting in my lap.

“Some girl there posted a picture of me, the place was swarming with the paparazzi within 5 minutes,” I explained to her.

“Oh, Lee, I’m so sorry,” Amelia told me, adjusting herself so her head was resting on my shoulder in comfort.

“It’s okay, kiddo. It's not like it was your fault. It’s my fault for thinking I could live a somewhat normal life,” I reassured her, running my hands through her hair.

“So, did Jake drop you off,” She asked me curiously.

“No, I got into an argument with him and got a cab home,” I answered.

“Oh,” she groaned in sympathy for me. “Do you think you’ll give him another chance?”

“It’s not me giving him another chance you should worry about. It’s whether or not he’ll give me another one,” I explained. Amelia lifted her head and went to respond but I cut her off. “Let’s stop talking about my total disaster of a first date and just enjoy the rest of the night together.”

“Okay, fine,” Amelia agreed reluctantly with a sigh.

“Great! Now what are we watching?”

“The Proposal.”

“I love it. I’ll get changed and get snacks,” I told her, moving to get up from the couch.

Amelia laughed as I walked out of the living room and towards the stairs, but I stopped when the doorbell rang.

“Amelia, are you expecting somebody,” I called out to the teenager.

“No,” She called back.

I walked up to the front door and flicked the lock, opening it to find Jake standing on the other side.

“Jake,” I said in shock, looking out behind him and up and down the street.

“None of them followed me if that’s what you’re checking for,” He reassured me.

I looked back at him and sighed. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to make sure you got home safely,” He explained, nervously looking down at his feet before looking me in the eye.

“Well, thank you,” I told him hesitantly. 

Jake nodded at me in acknowledgment as the silence between us began to hang. The first awkward silence to ever occur between the two of us.

“You can-” “I just want to-”

The two of us spoke at the same time, causing both of us to immediately pause and stare at each other. 

“What were you about to say,” Jake asked me, gesturing for me to go on.

“Oh, no. You can go first,” I reassured him.

“What I have to say can wait,” Jake told me.

“Jake, what I was going to say isn’t important. What were you going to say,” I asked him.

Jake stared at me silently, the furrow of his brow letting me know he was deep in thought, deciding what he was going to say.

“I just want to say, I'm sorry and you were right,” he released.

I stared at him in shock as he continued.

“I don't understand what you go through daily, or what you went through for the past 10 years. I don't understand how hard it must be for you to try and do anything normal because I've never experienced your life myself. Seeing what you were going through tonight, the good and the bad, made me realize how different we and the lives we live are,” he told me, causing dread to build in my stomach, knowing the next words to come out of his mouth are going to break me. 

“But that doesn’t change the fact that I would love nothing more than to get to know you and for you to talk to me. Help me understand what it is that you deal with in your life. Tell me what I can do to earn your trust and support you. Because, darlin’, I plan on being here for the long run.”

I widened my eyes in shock at his words and felt tears well up in my eyes as well. I have never had a guy step up and tell me such things. They’ve always been takers. People are more interested in my fame than in working to understand me for who I am. Who I can be when you take away that part of me. I took a deep breath and then released it, looking at my feet briefly before looking back at the blonde aviator.

“If you’ll have me, that is,” Jake added nervously, clearly concerned about my silence.

I gave him a soft smile. “I think that can be arranged.”

I could see Jake visibly relax at my words. It was almost as if he had 100 pounds of weight lifted off of his shoulders. His nervous look changed to one of glee, and he turned his charm back up.

“Thank goodness, because I didn’t know what I was going to do with this if you said no,” Jake said, reaching over to the side of the porch.

I watched him lift a plastic bag with a couple of styrofoam containers, a bottle of wine wrapped in a brown paper bag, and a large pizza box. I chuckled in amusement while shaking my head before looking at the man with a questioning look.

“I promised you Italian,” He said simply with a shrug.

“You are…,” I trailed off, not knowing the exact words I wanted to use for the man.

“Hopefully the words you are looking to end that with are all positive,” He said with a grin. “Can I come inside? We can talk everything over.”

I grinned and went to answer, but I was cut off by a voice whispering “Say yes” behind me. Jake and I shared a look of amusement and I released a small chuckle.

“You know, I was unsure about my answer at first, but I just have this small, nagging, annoying voice telling me I should let you in,” I told him with a smirk.

“Hey,” Amelia whined out at my insults.

Jake released a chuckle at the teenager as well and peeked slightly in the door to see the teenager hiding around the corner.

“Well, I think you should listen to the all-knowing and wise voice,” Jake directed at me while looking at Amelia and giving her a wink. “Especially because the pizza is getting colder as we speak.”

I shook my head at him in amusement before opening the door wider. “Would you like to join me upstairs?”

Jake’s smile widened before nodding. “I would love nothing more.”

Jake walked in the door and removed his shoes, placing them next to my own. I turned around to make my way to the kitchen to grab a wine opener and glasses, but I was shocked to find my teenage cousin standing in the doorway already holding the items out to me. I shook my head at her in amusement before stepping forward and accepting the items from her.

“Raincheck on The Proposal,” I asked her with a pout.

“Ryan Reynolds will just have to wait,” Amelia agreed with an exaggerated sigh.

The two of us laughed together before I turned and led Jake upstairs to my room. Jake followed me silently through the hallway until we reached my bedroom, taking in everything while I closed the door, leaving it open a few inches. Jake set everything on my desk while I grabbed my blanket off of the bed and laid it down on the floor, grabbing a few pillows and laying them down as well. Jake removed his leather bomber jacket with all of his navy patches and rested it over the back of my desk chair. I took a seat on the floor and he followed me soon after, placing the food on the floor before taking a seat.

“I have to say, I didn’t think this would be the first time I would be in your room,” Jake told me with a smirk as he grabbed the wine opener.

“Yeah, what was that you told me about saying no to coming upstairs on the first date,” I questioned him smugly, leaning back against my bed.

“Hey, now. This is different,” Jake defended with a smile of amusement, a brief chuckle escaping him as he pulled the cork out of the wine bottle.

“Mhm, sure,” I agreed sarcastically, holding my wine glass out towards him to fill.

“It is,” He argued with me as he filled my glass.

“How so,” I asked him curiously.

“Well, for starters, I said I would tell you no to coming inside at the end of our date, and it does not appear to be the end of our date yet,” Jake pointed out, gesturing to the spread of pizza and garlic bread laid out in front of us.

“Okay, you got me there,” I nodded at him as he filled his glass.

“And, I told you that you were going to be so impressed and obsessed with me that you will never want me to leave,” Jake finished off, setting the wine down and placing the cork back inside of it.

“Well what makes you think I’m not already impressed and obsessed with you,” I argued with him.

“I never said you weren’t,” Jake pointed out.

I rolled my eyes at him and chuckled. “Alright, fine. So I might be impressed already, but I don’t think I’ve quite reached the point of obsession yet.”

“Well, our night has only just begun,” Jake said smugly, winking at me with his Hollywood movie star smile.

“Well, then, here’s to my eventual obsession,” I said back just as smugly, holding my wine glass out towards him.

“To your eventual obsession,” Jake cheered with me, clinking his glass against my own.

The two of us drank our wine before digging into our food. Jake handed me a paper plate and napkin from the bag before opening the pizza box, the two of us letting out a groan at the sight of the pizza in front of us.

“Okay, just pick one,” He told me, moving the box closer to me.

“Oh, I get to pick first,” I asked him sarcastically.

“Yep, ladies first,” He told me with a bright grin.

“Are you sure? That’s quite the thing to bestow upon somebody,” I said sarcastically, leaning my head back against the bed.

“I’m positive. Go ahead darlin’,” He told me, nudging the box closer to me.

“Okay,” I told him, grabbing the slice I wanted and folding it so it was easier to eat. “Don’t judge how I eat my pizza. I roll it crust side out because I’m a lady.”

“Hey, no judgment here, honey,” Jake reassured me, grabbing a slice for himself and folding it as well.

I giggled at his actions and held it out to cheer him again before the two of us took a bite of our pizza, releasing groans of pleasure at the deliciousness.

“So, now that we have our date back on track, good food, good wine, and hopefully good company,” Jake listed off, looking over at me at his last words with a hopeful expression.

“Very good company,” I reassured him, taking a bite of my pizza.

“How about we get started on you helping understand everything about you,” Jake offered up.

I went quiet at his words and looked down at my lap. “Are you sure you want that?”

“Like I said Darlin’, I want to be in it for the long run,” He reassured me.

I sighed. “Like I said, this has been my life for 10 years…”

I told him everything. From being discovered to now. All the happy times, all the sad times. The joy of being recognized and winning awards. The sadness of rumors being spread and having my heart broken time and time again. The times when I was made the bad guy even though I did nothing wrong. Then I told him about what caused me to be sent back to San Diego in the first place.

“So what happened with your manager exactly,” Jake asked me curiously.

“Since the beginning, he always seemed a little off. It was almost like he was waiting for something to happen so he could slither his way in and take advantage of me. After my most recent breakup, I was receiving more hate than usual. He started putting in my head that I was losing everything and I was about to be a nobody. A washed-up pop singer who had it all one day then nothing the next. I started to believe him and I was thinking “What am I going to do?” Then I realized that he was lying to me. He was just trying to brainwash me and weaken me.”

“Why,” Jake asked me.

“Because he was a disgusting pig who wanted me for himself. I confronted him about everything, he forced himself on me and said that I would have nothing if it weren’t for him. He told me if I fired him he would tell everybody about what I did to him. Which was nothing. I was nothing but good to him. He told me if I didn’t sleep with him and do whatever he wanted me to do that I was finished. So I told him I would rather be finished than used and abused like a slave. So I fired him and here I am now. Lies being spread about me left and right.”

I went quiet at the end of my explanation, looking down at my lap as I had tears build up in my eyes. Jake remained quiet for a moment as my tears began to stream down my face. I listened to Jake release a sigh before he placed a hand on my knee. He began soothingly rubbing my knee before speaking.

“I am so sorry you had to go through that Presley. You didn’t deserve it. Believe me when I say that and believe me when I say not everybody believes what is being said about you,” Jake reassured me.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him.

He nodded and removed his hand from my knee, bringing it up to wipe my tears from my face. I brought my hand up and grabbed his own, pressing it closer to my face and turning my cheek into his palm. Jake rubbed his thumb against my cheekbone and I turned my head more to press a kiss against the inside of his palm. I gripped his hand in both of mine and brought it down to my lap, intertwining my fingers with his own before looking up at him and looking into his eyes. Jake’s eyes softened when we made eye contact and I could see him release a deep breath that he was holding in. He squeezed my hand before breaking eye contact, looking down at the floor and releasing my hand.

“It’s late, I think I better-”

I cut him off by placing my lips against his own, causing him to gasp in surprise. It was a chaste kiss, an innocent press of the lips against each other for a few moments before I pulled away from him. I opened my eyes and watched Jake do the same, the two of us staring into each other’s eyes once again. Jake’s surprise turned into a smirk not long after I pulled away, and he placed his hand back on my cheek.

“Where do you think you’re going Darlin’,” He said smugly before placing his lips back on my own.

I couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as he continued placing his lips against my own in a dance only we knew with each other. I brought my hands up to wrap around his neck, pulling myself closer to him until I was pressed against him, moving to straddle his hips to become closer to him. Jake’s hands remained respectfully on my hips as we kissed, rubbing his thumb across my hip bone occasionally. I released my hold on his neck to thread one of my hands into the hair at the back of his head and trailed my other hand down to one of his own on my hip, guiding it farther south to rest on my cheek. I allowed myself to grind down on him briefly, causing him to groan into the kiss and break away.

“Darlin’, remember what I said about wanting to treat you how you deserve to be treated and being respectful,” Jake rasped out to me, pressing his forehead against mine. I hummed in acknowledgment of his question. “Well, right now, you’re making it very hard on me to do so, and I think we should stop now and I should leave before we do something we shouldn’t and I’m not able to stop.”

“Who said I want you to stop,” I whispered to him before placing my lips back on his, and he returned the kiss eagerly.

However, our continuation was short-lived by a bark and slobbery kiss being placed on the side of my face.

“Theo,” I groaned out, moving off of Jake so the dog could climb on top of me.

“Well, look at that. Saved by the dog,” Jake said smugly, causing me to glare at him in annoyance. Jake smirked back at me before standing from the floor. “Why don’t you walk me out, Darlin’?”

I sighed before nodding and standing from the floor, lightly pushing Theo off of me in the process. I gripped his hand in my own and walked through the hallway and down the stairs. I looked over into the living room to see Amelia asleep on the couch, Jake following my gaze with a small smile. I shrugged at him before leading him over to the front door.

“Thank you for tonight. I had a really great time,” I told him shyly, gripping his hand in my own.

“Well, I’m glad you did,” He nodded at me, stopping with me in front of the door.

“Maybe we can do this again,” I offered up, playing with his fingers.

“We definitely will, Darlin’. But next time, you're coming to my place,” he smirked at me.

I smirked back. “Is that wise? After what Theo just interrupted.”

“Oh, I can control myself, sweetheart. The question is whether or not you can,” he said smugly, leaning down closer to me.

“I guess we'll just have to wait and see,” I whispered, leaning in closer to him.

“I guess so,” Jake whispered back, leaning in to kiss me once again.

However we were interrupted by the door opening, Penny and Maverick stepping in through the front door. Jake and I froze while the two older adults stared at the two of us in shock.

“Fun night,” Penny asked smugly.

“Nothing happened,” I reassured her before grabbing Jake's hand in my own and leading him out the door.

Penny laughed while Maverick muttered curses under his breath. I shut the door behind me and looked up at Jake.

“Sorry, about that,” I apologized with a blush.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he reassured me.

I grinned up at him before shaking my head. “I'll see you later then?”

“Definitely,” he nodded at me before leaning down and capturing my lips in another kiss. He pulled away after and smirked. “I had to get at least one more in before we were interrupted again.”

I sighed in frustration. “You sure you don't want to change your opinion on coming back upstairs,” I whined out.

“Trust me, sweetheart, I would love nothing more, but like I said, you deserve better than that,” he told me with a smirk. 

I rolled my eyes and pouted at him, causing him to chuckle. Jake leaned forward placed a kiss on my forehead and whispered a “goodnight, sweetheart” before turning around and walking towards his truck.

“You remember this as the day you turned down a popstar,” I called after him.

“I definitely will,” he called back, not turning around.

“You're going to regret this,” I called out again.

“Already am beautiful,” he called back again.

“goodnight,” I called out to him, turning to open the door.

“Hey, Presley,” Jake called out, causing me to turn back around. “I told you you would be obsessed with me,” he smirked at me as he opened the door to his truck.

“Get out of here, Hangman,” I said while laughing, rolling my eyes at him.

I turned around and opened the front door, moving inside and turning around to see Jake standing and waiting for me to close the door. I waved one last time at him, him doing the same before I closed and locked the door. I released a dreamy sigh and turned to lean back against the door. I bit my lip to contain my smile and ran my fingers over my lips as I remembered what it felt like to kiss Jake.

“So, how was it,” Penny asked me curiously, peeking her head out of the kitchen.

“It started horrible but turned into one of the best nights of my life. He was a complete gentleman-”

“Good, I didn't want to have to threaten him,” Mav spoke up as he moved into view from the kitchen.

I rolled my eyes at the man before looking back at Penny.

“Tonight was… amazing,” I told her firmly.

“Good. So, will there be a second date,” she asked me curiously.

“I think there will be many dates,” I reassured her, moving to go upstairs.

“aw, my little girl is in love,” Penny cooed, placing her head on Maverick's shoulder.

“I wouldn't say that… but I think I'm going to stick around for a little while. I might even get my own place,” I shrugged at her before running upstairs as she gasped at my words.

“Presley Joanna, do not play with me like that,” she called after me.

I giggled as I walked into my room and shut the door behind me. I leaned against it and dropped to the floor as I reminisced about my night. I took in the blanket and pillows still sitting on the floor with our trash and glasses from the night. I just shrugged it off and decided to take care of the mess in the morning. I moved to go into my ensuite bathroom but paused in my steps when I noticed something different.

A dark brown leather bomber jacket with a patch reading Hangman still resting on my desk chair.

Taglist: @buckysteveloki-me @hookslove1592

[starogeorgina]

Heart of glass

Warning: Smut, swearing

Pairing: Helaena Targaryen × OC

1.03

You look between Princess Rhaenyra and your father in disbelief. “She wants me to marry Prince Aemond?”

Rhaenyra nods. “Yes, she would like to announce the betrothal in a fortnight.”

You open your mouth but don’t get the chance as your father tosses his cup at the wall, causing both you and Rhaenyra to jump before you can protest. With his head tilted down, he presses his clenched fists against the table. “I will not allow that one-eyed cunt anywhere near my daughter,” he hisses, looking directly at Rhaenyra. “Do you remember what happened after Laena’s funeral? To even suggest such a betrothal is an insult.” Your father goes to the fireplace and retrieves his sword from the dark sister that is hanging above it. “I will go to King's Landing myself and—”

“Daemon,” Rhaenyra says, shaking her head. “Going to the red to keep angry isn’t the solution; there will be a better way to handle this. We must reject this proposal without being offensive.”

Your father scoffs, “as Alicent did when she rejected the offer of marrying Jacaerys to Helaena.”

Your jaw clenches. Alicent had the opportunity to marry her sweet girl to someone who would treat her far better than Aegon, but out of spite, she married her to a drunken fool who ignored her most of the time.

Rhaenyra takes hold of your father's arm, and he slowly lowers his sword to his side. Shaking her head, she says, “We mustn’t be offensive because it will be Vissera that the greens take their anger out on.”

“I’d like to see them fucking try.”

You shrug, “Inform the queen I'm already betrothed to another.”

Rhaenyra offers you a small smile while your father rolls his eyes. “And who is your purpose, I say is your intended?” He asks. “You’ve rejected every suitor that has asked for your hand.”

“That’s not true.”

“What?” Your father asks, looking unimpressed. “Why haven’t you informed me of this before? Who has asked for your hand?”

Rhaenyra looks unimpressed by her husband's sarcasm. “Is there any man in particular you’d like to marry?”

The moment becomes slightly awkward as you remain silent. What did she expect you to say? Aside from one, everyone who had asked for your hand was far too old and desperately wanted to marry someone with the blood of the dragon to add more power to their house. You finally reply, “Cregan Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, has asked for my hand.”

Rhaenyra stands behind your father and rubs at his shoulder. She sighs, “This is why you came to Dragonstone, isn’t it?”

Your father clicks his tongue and says, “And here I thought it was to pay me a visit.”

“Why would I? You don’t even write to me,” you scoff, “but yes, I came to get my father's blessing.”

Your father sits down again and motions for you to do the same. “I suggest we have a proper discussion and come to a decision before we reply to those Hightower cunts.”

—

“You’d think a lady with so many admirers wouldn’t look so sour.”

You roll your eyes at Jace’s comment. You were enjoying the solitude of being in one of the chambers overlooking Dragonstone, but Rhaenyra and Jacaerys found you. “Daemon has already sent a raven north to accept Lord Stark's proposal and is currently writing to Alicent to inform her you are already betrothed.”

“I haven’t been north since I was a girl; I barely remember meeting Cregan.”

"Well, you certainly made an impression, and a good one at that,” Rhaenyra smiles. “Who did you travel north with?”

Her question stung; it was moments like this that reminded you that the princess knew so little about you. “My cousin Gerold Royce and his lady wife. Speaking of him, I’d like to return to Runestone myself and inform him myself of this bethrothel.”

“I think that’s an excellent idea,” she smiles. “You should ask one of your siblings to join you; it would be nice for them to see where you grew up.”

Rhaenyra probably meant for Baela and Rhaena to join you, but another idea crossed your mind. You turn to Jacaerys and ask, “Will you join me, my prince?”

“You want me to go with you?” He asks, surprised.

“Why not?” You shrug. “It would only be for one or two nights, and you will be heir to the throne one day. It would be good for the future king to see all the places he’ll be ruling over.”

Jace looks hesitant. It suddenly occurred to you that the prince had never traveled without his family before. You force a smile and say, “Sorry, it was a bad idea.”

Rhaenyra places her hand on your shoulder. “I’ll ask the maester to change Jacaerys afternoon lessons to the morrow instead of the afternoon. I think it will be good for my son to see more of the seven kingdoms. That is, if he wishes to go.”

Jace smiles and says, “I think it would be fun. It would be good to see where Vissera grew up.”

—

You stroke Helaena's hair as she lays with her head resting on your bare stomach. The grass beneath you was surprisingly soft, and the hill you were on was on an isolated island, so you had the freedom to be together out in the open without disturbance. Your eyes were heavy, as tiredness from your previous orgasms had taken a lot out of you.

Wordless, Helaena put a hand on your breast, then bent to take a nipple in her mouth. Her other hand drifted down across the soft curve of your belly, then, in between your legs, she smirked, feeling your wetness. “You’ve enjoyed being out in the open more than I anticipated,” she giggles before sinking a finger into you and then rubbing her thumb over your clit. “I’d never tire of seeing you like this.”

“Gods, it’s too much! I’m too sensitive!”

“You can give me another,” Helaena says before sliding another finger into you.

When she feels your cunt starting to clench around her, she pulls her fingers out and sucks them into her mouth. She hooks one leg over and rubs her wet cunt against yours. She moans while desperately rubbing your clit’s move against one another. Her breasts swayed as she moved, chasing after her own pleasure. It made you happy to see how much more confident Helaena had become in such a short space of time. She was no longer blushing and timed, but now a princess who knew exactly what she wanted.

“I’m getting close again!”

“Me too, princess!” You hold onto Helaena’s hips, helping her grind against you. “Fuck!”

You stared up at the clear sky as your dragon circled above. Dreamfyre was sleeping further up the hill, blissfully unaware of what her rider had been doing a short distance away. Being with the princess helped you feel more at ease; all your fears about marriage were pushed to the back of your mind.

“Marriage isn’t all bad; sometimes good things come out of it.”

You let out a chuckle. “I doubt it. Marriages for political arrangements haven’t been known to end well.”

Helaena turns her head up slightly to face you. “I saw a maester yesterday.”

“Are you sick?”

“No, I’m with the child again,” she smiles brightly and rubs at her stomach.

“Oh,” you say, feeling as if you’ve been punched in the gut. “Congratulations.”

There was no doubt Helaena loved her twins and would love her new baby just as much, but a part of you felt defeated. Another thing was about to change, and you would eventually lose the only person that made you feel safe. It wasn’t in your nature to become overly attached to others; there was no other person aside from Jace that you felt a genuine connection with.

Helaena turns her body so she is leaning over yours, and she kisses your stomach just above your navel. “I would still like it if we could spend time together,” she says, kissing your body until she reaches your shoulder and rests her head on it. “Nothing needs to change; having children is the only benefit of performing my duty as a wife.”

You listen to Helaena talk about motherhood and the special bond she shared with her twins, but the stirring in your stomach as you're filled with unease becomes too much. You sit up, causing Helaena to move back. A lump starts to build in your throat, and you quickly start to redress. “Sorry—it’s getting late, and I'm somewhere I need to be.”

“Can we meet again tomorrow?”

“I’m returning to Runestone, so it will be a few days before we can meet again.” You press your lips against hers and say, “I will see you when I’m back, princess.”

[seaoflove07]

Cravings in the Dawn🌹

• A commission artwork by Lesyarei •

Oc x Canon.

Characters: Azusa Mukami & Christine Melendez. (Rose)

A commission Fan Fiction Written by @afi-writes @afi-mukami

Author Oc @yuriko-mukami

Fandom: Diabolik Lovers.

🔞⚠️⚠️ NSFW, Not for Minors! ⚠️⚠️🔞

Note: I can't bring myself to write my own smut. 😅 So I'm glad there are writers who do steamy commissions.

I did give the dialogue to the writer and the rest she poured her magic with her style.📝 🔥🔪🌹

The pinkish hue spreads through the sky just above the high trees, the first cue of the morning. Christine has been watching the dark sky for a while now, tossing and turning every now and then. Now light dangles into the room, caressing the rosy curtains and bedsheets with its sparkles. No way Christine can fall asleep this morning, not when every nerve in her body tickles. There is this deep yearning rising in her, pulsing through her veins, demanding attention.

The arms locked around Christine aren’t truly helping the situation. Especially not when Azusa nuzzles her locks in his slumber, his scent of fruity black tea with a hint of flowers sailing in as Christine draws breath.

Five days.

For five days without making love to the man who lays next to her. A sigh presses past Christine’s lips. Five days full of work for Karlheinz’s plans. Five days full of chores in the mansion. Five days hitting the bed in the brick of dawn and passing out from exhaustion.

Yet now, Christine is wide awake, feeling how neediness courses through her body. Such a wrong timing.

Azusa lets out a soft mumble while Christine’s gaze embraces him. He has worked so hard, deserving every ounce of rest he can get. Not wanting to disturb him, Christine sneaks from under his arms gradually. Another mumble, an arm tugging a pillow, hugging it instead. An adorable sight.

But adorable isn’t what Christine would need now. Not even the long bath earlier has shaken the throbbing need away. Slightly annoyed by her urges, Christine grabs a silk robe from the backrest of a chair and wraps it around her. Even though the fabric is light, its touch on her skin is enough to send shivers all over. Oh, she would need so much more. Drawing a breath, she pushes the longing aside and heads for the kitchen. Perhaps a glass of water can cool her down.

But this isn’t a lucky morning for Christine. Of course, the water couldn’t help her. Heading back, yet another sigh vibrates through Christine. She reaches for the doorknob, but it escapes her fingers just when she’s about to grab it. Lifting her gaze, she meets the eyes that bore through her full of worry and anxiousness.

A second passes, perhaps two. Cold fingers grip around Christine’s wrist, and Azusa hauls her into the room, slamming the door shut.

“Azu, what’s the matter?” The question jumps off Christine’s lips.

“When I woke up…” Darkness slithers into Azusa’s eyes and he only firms his hold. “...you weren’t there near me in the bed… Or rather… you weren’t around… in the room at all... I feared that you might… have abandoned me...and had left me... Just thinking about it… It got me feeling… very sad… and incredibly scared...”

“Azu…” Slowly, Christine pulls her wrist from Azusa’s fingers only to lean in and cup his icy cheeks. “I will never leave you because I love you.”

But Azusa’s gaze is like the one of a hurt animal. “Then why… did you leave the room… without telling me…!?” His usually sluggish tone of voice pitches higher.

Christine shifts in front of him. “You were still sleeping, and I didn't want to wake you up.” She allows a tiny sigh to leave her mouth again. “I couldn't sleep. So… I went to the kitchen to drink a glass of water.”

“Really…?” Confusion wafts over Azusa’s face. Yet it is soon twisted into suspiciousness. “Or you might be using that… as an excuse for me… to lower my guard...then use that opportunity… to run away and leave me…”

“Azusa stop!” Christine frowns, staring at her love. “You need to learn to trust me. I haven't given you any reason to think that I'll leave you for someone else.” So frustrating! Always this! Always! Why can’t Azusa see how much she loves him? Why can’t he trust that she will stay? Stomping her feet on the carpet, Christine gives the man a final glare. “I'm done talking to you, I'm going to bed now.”

“Wait!” Azusa’s voice is almost insinuating with desperation.

But Christine doesn’t mind. She has gotten enough of this. Turning her back, she refuses to answer. The bed is calling for her.

The next step is never taken.

“Don't you turn your back on me…! I’m not done talking to you yet...!” Azusa seizes Christine’s shoulders, his fingertips digging into her skin as he turns her around so fast, that her head is spinning for a moment. But only for a moment, for the reliant lips capture hers.

“Azusa, no…” Christine shoves Azusa’s chest, breaking the smooch and forcing a whine out of the Vampire. “I want you to trust me…”

For a while, nothing is being said. The couple stares at each other and the silence is thick between them.

Azusa shifts as if he is feeling physically uncomfortable. “It’s hard, Rose… especially when I know… that other men want you…”

His anxiety is kicking in, isn’t it? Christine locks her gaze with Azusa’s while she lets her robe slide off her shoulders and onto the floor. Lifting her hands, she tugs the straps of her nightgown until they run down her upper arms. With a sway of her hips, she allows the piece of garment to drop and pile around her ankles.

“Azu…” Without a hurry, Christine steps out of the nightgown and brings her hands on her curves. There is fire in her loins and desire in her belly. “...you have had my body many times. But…” She slithers her fingers under the waist of her lace pink thong. “...I want you to know.” She draws the lingerie down little by little revealing everything as the ache between her thighs grows more and more insistent. “I'm still yours. My heart and body will always be yours.”

As Azusa’s eyes caress her with lusting, invisible fingers, Christine steps closer. He is all she wants; all she can think of. “My body craves you… Azu…” She sinks into his eyes, and the wet heat flares in her. Lust burns in her brain and she can concentrate on nothing else. “Please… make love to me…”

Azusa swallows. “Rose…”

For a tiny while Azusa’s eyes settle on Christine’s breasts. Just a moment later, he lifts his hand and starts to unbutton his shirt. One by one, the fastenings drop open, baring his chest to Christine’s waiting gaze. He drops the piece of clothing on the floor, and with a swift movement, he scoops her up and carries her through the room, tossing her on the bed so hastily that her head sinks into the pillow. She doesn’t even have time to dampen her lips with her tongue before he is over her, showering kisses on her.

The smooches take over Christine’s senses as she sinks into bliss along with them. Trembles course through her as Azusa takes her lips with his own. So all-consuming. It’s impossible to resist the pull of passion that draws them both in. The kiss is hard, then soft and hard again, coming like waves to the shore, making her blood pulse in her veins with a scarlet web of desire.

Finally, Azusa breaks the kiss and tugs Christine’s bottom lip, scraping it with his peeking fangs. A metallic inkling of a taste wafts onto her tongue, a cue of her own blood. Azusa’s mouth moves down to Christine’s slender throat, his teeth finding the column of her neck and piercing it. The white pain strikes her mind, and she can’t hold back a whine that pushes past her lips.

“Sing more… for me, Rose…” Azusa traces Christine’s side while he focuses on sucking her blood. Releasing a moan, he licks over the bite mark and fishes the last drops of the delicious liquid of life before moving down.

When Azusa’s breath breezes over Christine’s skin, her nipples perk up from the mere thought of what is to come. A cry escapes her when his fangs thrust into the ample flesh of her mound. Drawing blood once more, Azusa caresses her other breast and toys with its hardened peak, gliding his thumb over the nub. Combined with the bite, the sensation hauls Christine into a mixture of sweet pain and luscious pleasure.

As if asking forgiveness, Azusa kisses the reddish bite, tracing the mound until he reaches the stout bud. Flicking over it, he forces a whine out of Christine. Grazing with his fangs, he sucks the nub into his mouth and whirls his tongue around it. Shivers run down Christine’s spine, and she squirms under her lover, wailing.

Releasing the bud, Azusa captures the other and gives it the same treatment. More laments of lust escape to the air while yearning ignites deep within Christine.

“Your voice… spurs me on…” Azusa breathes against the nipple. “Rose… let me hear… more…” He inches closer, sinking his fangs into the soft flesh of Christine’s breast. Squealing, she laces her fingers with his hair, presses his head closer, and arches her back to meet his lips and fangs again and again.

And that is only the start of their tingling tango of delight and desperation. Azusa’s fangs find all the sensitive spots of Christine’s, for he knows them well. The mouthwatering scrunch of her upper arm, the cushiony of her waist and belly, the bounciness of her thigh. With each bite, comes a mark of ownership, a sign of love and dedication like no other, painted with pain like proof of life. The perfection the couple only shares with one another and no one else, raw need meeting pure desire.

Heat uncurls in Christine’s abdomen, the urgent need that demands more. She thrills at the thought of Azusa moving inside her.

“Azu…” A quivering whisper. Christine craves more, her body flaring with fervor and mind hazing with urge old as time. This man, this love is all she needs. Meandering under him, she calls him to take what belongs rightfully to him, teases him with the promise of delight.

“Rose… your scent…” Azusa showers Christine’s stomach with thousands of smooches. “...it is… like a garden… My own… rose garden…”

Releasing his grasp, Azusa shoves his pajama pants down along with his underwear as if a cue that Christine’s carnal desire will no longer be denied. He kicks the clothes off the edge of the bed. “You are mine, Rose… I will not hand you over… to anyone…”

Azusa seizes Christine by her waist and flips her over. Her cheek meets the pillow, sinking into it as she wheezes. Just a moment later, Azusa’s fingers entangle with her hair while he buries his nose in it and breathes her in. As he kisses down her nape, his breath is ragged in her ears. He traces her skin, enlacing his fingers with her hair and tugging gently while keeping his other hand on her shoulder blade and scraping her neck.

The soft pecks of his lips on her spine are ever-so-gently. Yet, the possessive desperation lingers between the couple and paints every touch, every lungful of air.

Nuzzling Christine’s spine, Azusa presses another series of smooches on it and inhales deeply. “Your scent… Rose… It’s intoxicating…”

Christine loves to hear Azusa’s sweet words. He clenches his hand in her hair, his digits delving into it for a while before he slides his fingers down her back, cherishing every inch of her skin.

Soft moans of satisfaction sail out of Christine as Azusa holds her waist and caresses the small of her back with his mouth. She can’t help but sway her bottom for him, and he answers the cue, hauling is closer and covering the buttocks with kisses as well while palming the squeezy flesh over and over again.

The fangs puncture Christine’s buttock, forcing a lament out of her. Azusa can’t resist suckling even more of her sweet liquid of life. Her palm meets the headboard of the bed, fingers scratching it as Azusa moves south while his hand reaches the apex of her thighs; the tip of his finger dips in followed by a moist draining sound.

“Rose, you are… so wet… for me…” Azusa’s words vibrate against Christine’s skin just before his tongue glides to the valley between her thighs, savoring the sweet cavern. At the same time, he lets his digit sneak past her pearly gates, sinking in and retreating again. He works his fingers into her once more, igniting her. Her body vibrates in response, and she bites back a whimper.

Azusa’s swirling fingers spread Christine wide, spreading her wetness all over her rosy petals. Curling his digits, he provokes more muffled moans out of her, inflaming her veins with gratification. Kissing and licking, Azusa traces Christine’s swollen folds. She opens for him like a flower as he inches his fingers out only to slash his tongue inside, working her entrance, driving her wild. The sensation locks her in the prison of desires, moistness spreading on her thighs with each delicate flick while his digits reach her already throbbing nub of pleasures.

Christine’s breath comes in soft pants as Azusa’s fingers keep stroking her, sending her into shivers of ecstasy. Her clit cries out for him, her back arches and her fingers clench the blanket as if it is the only thing that keeps her in this realm while he drinks deep from her candied well of bliss. Again and again, bold swipes of his tongue send her spinning in the whirlpool of sacred sensations.

“You taste… so good, Rose…” Kissing her entrance, Azusa slides his tongue toward Christine’s buttocks, snaking its way between them and forcing yet another whimper past her lips. She tenses for the unfamiliar sensation as Azusa tests the new waters, a soggy lick probing the opening he hasn’t conquered yet.

Shivering, Christine squeezes the blanket. What is this? But the protest dies on her lips as Azusa keeps going, kissing and lapping with relish. Small drifts turn into tidal waves of delight, taking Christine beyond reason. Whimpering, she surrenders while Azusa’s tongue wins over her confusion and his thumb dances over her pulsing pearl.

“Every part of… you is mine…” The whisper vibrates against Christine’s buttock, and right after the wet tip of Azusa’s tongue gives her another thrill of rapture.

• Full Uncensored Artwork, Here •

Wailing, Christine grasps the blanket under her and instinctively tugs it into her mouth, stifling her voice. If anything, that drives Azusa further, and his tongue starts to tantalize and tease her whilst his stroking and petting on her glossy bud never stops. She writhes against his hand and the tongue that slips in, tormenting her ever-so-sweetly.

Almost losing herself to the pleasure, Christine shifts her hips adapting to Azusa’s moves. Rapture shoots through her at his touch and tortured moans squeeze from her mouth. If this doesn’t stop soon, she will come apart right here and now. Her moans break through, echoing through the room… and just then, Azusa’s fingers withdraw, and his tongue leaves a wet trail on her bottom.

“No! Azu, please! Don’t stop!” Christine’s cries of yearning cut the air.

“We should… cum together, Rose.”

As Christine wails and heaves, Azusa collects her into his arms, supporting her against his chest. She can’t help the trembles that dash through her muscles from both exhaustion and eagerness.

Nuzzling Christine’s nape, Azusa nibbles it with the peaks of his fangs only. His mouth tells her without words how loved she is. He grabs her chin, gently tilting her head to captivate her lips and lock her into a prison of smooches. The earth-shattering kisses sail into Christine’s heart, for they are not only because of lust but adornment as well. Like Cupid’s arrow into her chest, Azusa’s lips speak a language of their own in a long and leisurely manner.

I love you.

I need you.

I’ll never let go of you.

Spoken words aren’t needed. In silence, they flow from one another as an endless stream that binds them together.

While they kiss open-mouthed, Azusa grinds his erection against Christine’s backside. It slides across her folds, and she can feel how ready he is to take her, to show her to whom she belongs. Nudging her dampened petals, he briefly pauses at her pearly gates, then pushes them wide and shoves his length into her core. Heat meets coldness, creating an inferno spiced with an ice storm.

Azusa sighs with satisfaction as his hardness fills Christine, stripping away everything but her need for him. He places one hand on Christine’s hip, holding her there as he hits the deepest parts of her. For a moment, he breaks the kiss and bites her lower lip, drawing a drip of blood. The wound is sealed fast but the swollen sensation doesn’t leave Christine while the couple sinks into the dance of smooches and bounces. Her body molds against his, as she enjoys the coldness of his skin and the roughness of his thrusts.

“Rose…” Azusa’s breath whispers over Christine’s lips. He ravishes her body while kissing her over and over, pushing all else from her mind. His kiss is full of possessiveness, greedy for even more.

Christine groans into Azusa’s mouth while he claims hers again and again, his lips crushing against hers. They gasp, moan, and writhe while the sun rises above the trees and paints the room with a golden hue of rosy pink. To kiss Azusa like this forever would not be long enough.

• Full Uncensored Artwork, Here •

Christine cherishes the feel of his tongue rubbing hers and can’t help but suck it, enjoying the suction. He’s in her, filling her completely. Not just her body but her mind and soul as well.

Azusa’s hands are cool but demand more and more from Christine. Her breasts bounce with each thrust and the golden cross along with them, hitting her chest every time. He cups her mound, squeezing and caressing it. Gently at first, then rougher. His thumb rasps against her hardened nipple, and soon, he can’t resist the urge to roll and pinch the aching bud, forcing out wailing moans from Christine but only to muffle those with his smooches.

They pant in pleasure, lost in heat as they move together as one. Azusa presses harder into her, deeper, filling Christine up with his cock. Her pussy tightens around him as his length pierces her from behind over and over again. As she stretches and melds, clenching him, he releases a hungry moan into her mouth. His harsh, rough strokes rock her body while they merge, lips on lips.

“Rose… you are…” Azusa pants onto Christine’s lips. “...mine…”

Trapped between torment and ecstasy, Christine’s inner walls ripple against Azusa. He slows down but only to hasten his pace again. Pounding into her depths, he groans, almost growls into their kisses.

Christine’s whole body is on fire with bliss. Her toes curl and her back arches as the waves come, sizzling through every part of her. Azusa’s steely bouncing sends her toward the edge as he pulses in her, making gratification rocket along her veins. He clasps her hips with both hands, pulling her hard into his final thrust, and at the same moment, a soul-shattering orgasm robs Christine of her senses. Azusa’s jerking shaft gushes into her, and his growls of pleasure mingle with her laments. His body tenses as he pours his load deep into her, unleashing his love and melting in her heat.

As he wraps both arms around Christine, Azusa stays inside, letting her milk him while nuzzling her nape through her sweaty hair. “Rose… I love you… so much…”

- End -

Thank you for reading. 📖 🌹

• Artwork by Alluraalteal •

[amazingmsme]

Easy Target

AN: sorry I haven’t posted for a few days, I’ve been busy with Halloween activities! But I’ve had this fic ready to go for a while, so here it is! It’s technically a sequel to Appetite for Trouble & makes more sense if you’ve read that one first, but it can also stand on its own. Asterios is my baby & he’s so much fun to write! Definitely lmk if y’all wanna see more of him or Leander! Hope y’all enjoy day 27, we’re closing in on the last few days!

& yes I DO ship my oc with Elpenor, what of it?

Asterios honestly wasn't sure what to expect after the crew's attack. He supposed he was expecting for them to mock him relentlessly, to strike at any given opportunity. After all, it's what he probably would've done.

Instead, the lighthearted teasing and jokes made at his expense were kept to a minimum. The Gods must be looking out for him.

What was perhaps even more surprising, was the fact that no one had tried anything since then. They would still tussle amongst themselves, and he was, for the most part, ignored. Although, if asked if he wanted to join in on someone else's torture, he wasn't so inclined to say no. Especially if offered a chance for revenge. But other than that, they let him be.

Not that he was complaining! Don't you fucking dare let that thought enter your head. He was just... confused is all. Confused and fairly paranoid, not jealous, thank you very much. They had seemingly had so much fun tearing his sanity to shreds with nothing but their bare hands, it was sure to happen again. They had certainly made him think it would. Yet, the most anyone ever did was a poke to his ribs here, a squeeze to his sides there. Just to make him jump with an embarrassing yelp.

He was grateful they hadn't tried anything else, he told himself. It had was childish, overwhelming, stupid, and... kinda fun. But he was above it. And yet, when he hears frantic laughter echoing across the ship, he can't help but smile.

Leander was the only one who didn't seem to let it go. His roommate has since decided that the best way to wake him up is to body slam his sleeping form, and tickle him until he was fully conscious. Thank the Gods he had his pillow to muffle the sound.

He didn't stop there. He also liked to sneak up behind Asterios whenever he was busy and tickle wherever he could reach. So really, who else would be scratching behind his wings?

He scrunched his neck as a smile broke out across his face and the wing twitched away from the touch.

"What?" he asked, not bothering to turn around.

The hand returned, causing the feathers to bristle and his wing slapped the hand away. "Damnit what do you want?" he snapped, spinning around to confront his friend. The playful annoyance was replaced with shock as the color drained from his face.

"You're not Leander."

Elpenor's smile only grew as he looked the demigod in the eye. "No, I'm not."

Asterios felt his whole body go tense, and he was leaning as far against the rail as he could. "So... can I help you?"

"Yeah, I was just curious," Elpenor explained, taking a step forward. Asterios arched a skeptical brow.

"About?"

Elpenor flashed a dangerous grin and lunged forward, grabbing his wings and stretching them out on either side of his head. "Just how ticklish are these things?" he asked, feigning innocence. Asterios shrieked and instinctively flailed away- backwards.

He felt himself start to tip over the railing and he was screaming for an entirely different reason. A hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him forward until he found his footing. All while laughing in his face.

Typical.

Asterios shoved him away angrily, "What the hell Elpenor, you tryna kill me?"

"I didn't know you'd freak out like that! I barely even touched them!" he cheered, already trying to grab them again, only for Asterios to smack him away.

"Try it again and see what happens," he growled threateningly.

"Okay!" Elpenor chirped, immediately reaching for his wings once more. Asterios panicked and stumbled back, snatching his wrist in the air. Elpenor's other hand swiped at the other side, and he caught that one too.

"Wha- don't actually try it again! Don't you know anything?"

"I know your wings are like, crazy ticklish," he goaded. Asterios balked, unable to find the words as a blush quickly spread across his face.

"I'd shut up if I were you," he threatened.

"Yeah, well, you're not, sooo-" Elpenor trailed off as he twisted his hands free. Asterios didn't have time to react before he felt blunt nails scratching beneath downy feathers.

His eyes flew wide open, and he stumbled over his own two feet as he tried to escape. He doubled over, gripping the railing for support as he did his best to prevent any unwanted laughter from escaping. He clamped his mouth shut, lips trembling as the urge to smile continued to grow, but helpless giggles forced their way out when he hit a particularly sensitive spot. He shook his head frantically, wings twitching, but Elpenor was nothing if not persistent.

"Ehehehelpenor, I'm seheherious!" he squealed, shaking his head back and forth while his wings flapped uselessly.

"Really? You don't sound like it," he taunted as his other hand joined the fray. Asterios shrieked when the other side was attacked, a bright blush spreading across his cheeks. Breathless snickers forced their way past his lips, and he was faced with a dreadful choice: either fight him off and probably lose, or focus his efforts on keeping those humiliating sounds inside his chest. He clamped a hand over his mouth, biting down on his palm as hard as he could to prevent anymore noises from escaping.

"Booooo," Elpenor complained when bright laughter became muffled. "You know I already heard you laugh, so what's the point in trying to hide it? I mean, you really aren't fooling anyone," he taunted, earning a frustrate growl that dissolved into choked off giggles.

Fuck this, fuck him, he needs to leave NOW.

"What? But we just got started!"

And FUCK this stupid bullshit power of his.

Asterios managed to slip free and made a break for it, shoving anyone and anything out of his way. He didn't even know where he was going, he just knew he had to stay away from Elpenor for as long as possible. As he ran, his feet began moving faster and faster, and the distance between them grew. If he could just make it below deck, he could figure it out from there.

He was halfway down the stairs, looking back over his shoulder to make sure he was still in the clear, when Polites cried out, "Whoa, whoa, stop!"

He came to a grinding halt, stopping just short of running into Polites and Odysseus. "Move!" he yelled, but neither so much as budged.

Asterios looked uncharacteristically giddy; wide eyed with a nervous smirk, cheeks flushed a faint pink, and his hair was falling out of a loose bun. The pair shared a knowing look, and Odysseus crossed his arms, casually blocking the stairway.

"Where're you off to in such a hurry?" Odysseus asked, sporting a smug smile. Asterios rolled his eyes and tried to shove past them, but Odysseus stood his ground, his shit eating grin growing wider.

"I don't know, just move!"

"Why? What's the rush?" Polites caught on quickly, blocking the way when Asterios tried to squeeze past them.

"He's right behind me!" he yelled, desperately trying to push them aside as he looked behind him anxiously.

"Who?" they asked in unison, and Asterios swore they were just doing it to waste time.

"Oh good, you caught him!" Elpenor called out from the top of the stairs. Fuck.

"Elpenor! I should've known it was you," Odysseus mused aloud. "So what'd he do this time?"

Asterios scoffed and shoved at his chest, "Nothing, asshole!"

Elpenor chuckled as he walked down the stairs slowly, "He's right, I just couldn't help myself."

"Well in that case, have fun!" Polites laughed, clapping Asterios on the back. He brushed his hand off harshly, absolutely seething.

"What the hell did I ever do to you?" he hissed through clenched teeth. Polites merely shrugged, "What? You could use a laugh."

Asterios scoffed, looking between the three of them. "Captain, you're just gonna let this happen?" he asked incredulously, fending off Elpenor with one hand while he tried to force his way behind the pair.

Odysseus thought it over for a moment. "I don't know. You're on your break right now, right?"

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"If you weren't busy, I don't see what the problem is."

"How can you not see the fucking problem?" he spat angrily. Odysseus arched a brow at the feisty tone, and just like that, his fate was sealed.

"Is that how you speak to your captain?" he asked.

"You're way too moody, we're practically doing you a favor."  Polites decided, flashing a teasing smile.

"Like hell you are!"  Asterios scoffed, lunging at them.

"Oh lighten up," Odysseus rolled his eyes and pushed him away, straight into Elpenor's clutches. He hooked his arms beneath the demigod's and started dragging him back up the stairs.

"Bastards, all of you! I won't forget this!" he screamed, kicking out and fighting every step of the way.

"Oh, and Elpenor? While you're at it, make sure you fix his attitude. Don't stop until he stops cussing," the captain ordered, shooting them both a wink.

"What the fuck? That's not fair!"

"With pleasure!" he adjusted his grip and saluted, carrying Asterios up the rest of the way. Before he could make another run for it, Elpenor kicked his legs out from under him, catching him just before he hit the ground.

Odysseus and Polites squeezed past as they finally made their way to the upper deck. He called out one last time, his last chance for salvation. Because if Polites didn't feel sorry for him, no one would.

"Plehease, he's gonna kihihill me!" Asterios couldn't believe he had resorted to begging, but desperate times and all that.

"Don't worry, it'll only feel like you're dying!" Polites assured, laughing at the look that came over his face. Odysseus was laughing too as he threw an arm around his shoulders, shaking his head fondly.

"That was mean, even for him," the captain praised, reaching up to ruffle his friend's hair before they rounded the corner and Asterios lost sight of them.

Even for him? What the fuck, he wasn't THAT bad... Was he? No, he didn't fucking deserve this. He was still glaring over his shoulder when Elpenor thumped his forehead to get attention.

"Hey, I'm right here!"

Asterios redirected his burning glare to the proper target. "How could I forget?" he deadpanned, trying to keep his racing heart in check. Elpenor had sought him out, had chased him down just because he was bored, and now, his head was resting in his lap. Oh, how he'd dreamed for something like this to happen...

Under different circumstances!

"Well then, let me remind you," Elpenor taunted, reaching behind his wings to scratch at the base. Asterios burst into bright, bubbly giggles as he squirmed around in his lap, unable to reach Elpenor's hands from the way he had his arms held back. He could barely even reach his face to hide behind his hands or muffle his laughter. He was left with nowhere to hide, and the only view he had to look at was Elpenor's beautiful grinning face staring down at him. It didn't help that he kept taunting him and telling him how cute he was.

He was many things, but cute sure as hell wasn't one of 'em.

Elpenor gasped loudly, and Asterios flinched at the sudden noise, looking around to see what caused it. He saw nothing.

"What-"

"Take that back!"

Asterios furrowed his brows in confusion as he took the opportunity to catch his breath.

"I didn't say anything, dumbass."

"Hey, remember what the captain said!" he warned playfully. Asterios rolled his eyes, yelping when he gently pinched his wings. He bit down on his lip, squeezing his eyes shut as he struggled to maintain his composure.

Elpenor began rubbing the velvety soft wings in between his fingers, and Asterios broke out in helpless shrieks and squeals.

"So if you're not cute, what are you?" he asked, cocking his head as he stared down at him. He wore a proud grin as he watched a dark blush spread across the demigod’s cheeks.

"NOTHING!" Asterios growled in frustration, snorting when he hit a bad spot near the edge of his wings.

"Really? Wow Asterios, I knew your self esteem was low, but give yourself some credit!" Elpenor teased, chuckling along at his own stupid joke.

"Oho put ahaha sock in ihit!"

"Why don't you? You're the one who won't shut up," he mocked, kneading at the base and sending him into shrill hysterics.

"Thehehen LET mehe shut up!" he whined, shaking his head back and forth. Elpenor readjusted his grip so that he couldn't even do that. "Ohoho COME OOOON!" he yelled in frustration.

Elpenor seemed to think it over before answering, "Hmm... I don't know, maybe if you admit how cute you are, I'll stop." Maybe- is he trying to trick him? Does he think he's stupid or something?

"No way, are you out of your damn mind?"

"Again with the swearing? Guess you just want to be tickled all day," he taunted smugly. Asterios tensed up, a hot blush spreading across his face.

"Shut the hell up right now if you know what's good for you!" he growled, reaching up to slap weakly and tug his hair. Anything to try and escape. Elpenor laughed as he easily brushed him off.

"No no, I get it! There are worse ways to get out of work!"

"I wasn't! You just attacked me for no reason!"

"Do I really need a reason?" Elpenor asked, grinning down at him. Asterios felt his own lips tug into a shy, giddy smile and he immediately looked away.

"Yes!" he insisted.

"Maybe I tickled you because you're always so grumpy. Ever think of that?"

"Why would I think of that," he snarked before he thought better of it. He wasn't about to admit to the fact that he had indeed given it some thought.

"I don't know, you tell me," he teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. Asterios blushed, and his wings instinctively tugged against their hold in an attempt to hide his face. They could barely twitch.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You're a real piece of fuckin' work, you know that?"

"And you're a ticklish asshole who keeps asking for it," Elpenor said matter of factly. That sure got his attention.

"I am not!" he denied, feeling the heat in his cheeks burn hotter.

"Really? Could've fooled me," he taunted with a smug grin.

"What do you want from me?" he whined, allowing himself to go completely limp in his hold.

This is useless, and silly, and... the most fun he's had since the last time Leander did this to him.

"I just wanna hear you laugh for once, is that a crime?" Elpenor asked, and he sounded surprisingly sincere. It sent a warm, hopeful flutter through his chest that he had to smother. He needed to deflect.

Asterios threw his head back and let out a loud, hearty, obviously fake laugh. "HA HA HA! ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?" he yelled in his face, his words practically dripping with sarcasm.

"Overjoyed," Elpenor practically purred, grabbing his wings and folding them gently so that the tips of the feathers stroked over his ears and neck. He squeaked and shut his eyes tight, his breath coming out in short bursts through his nose as he did everything he could not to laugh. It wasn't really working. 

He doesn't mean it, he's just fucking with you, don't get your hopes up. He's just teasing, he's not actually having that much fun-

"Oh I'm having a blast," Elpenor taunted, smirking at the horrified look that washed over him.

Asterios stared up at him in shock, lurching forward to escape, only to remain trapped in Elpenor's arms. Not... the worst place to be trapped, if he were being honest.

"Gehehet out of my head!" he growled through helpless giggles as his own fucking feathers reduced him to nothing but breathless laughter and embarrassing snorts.

"Dude, you're the one projecting your thoughts in my head," he pointed out, barely holding back his own laughter.

"Ihihi can't hehehelp it!"

"Awww I know, isn't it great?"

Asterios didn't even want to know what shade of red he was. "Nohoho!" How he managed to sound sarcastic even now, Elpenor would never know.

"But it's the only time you're really honest with us!"

"It ihihis not!" he adamantly denied.

"Eh, agree to disagree," he shrugged, dragging the wings along his neck. Asterios squealed and shook his head back and forth, his laughter taking on a desperate pitch. His nose was scrunched adorably and his mouth hung open in a wide smile as shrill giggles and squeals continued to erupt from him. His rarely seen dimples were on full display across his rosy cheeks. It was a priceless sight to behold.

Elpenor couldn't help himself. "You know, my offer still stands. I can let you go if you just admit how downright precious you are!" he cooed in the most patronizing tone Asterios has ever heard. To make matters worse, he hugged him closer to his chest so he could nuzzle against his neck.

"Nohoho, plehehease!" Asterios couldn't even think straight; every nerve in his body set on fire while his heart felt like it skipped a hundred beats. He thrashed as much as he could, his shrieking cackles interrupted by the occasional snort.

"Alright, how 'bout you just tell me where you're most ticklish instead?" Asterios gawked at him and fervently shook his head.

"I think I'd rather die!"

"Wow, that's a bit much, even for you."

"Ehehelpenor, plehease! Just lehehet me gooo!"

"Pick your poison, tough guy," he taunted directly in his ear, sending goosebumps racing across his skin. At least now he could hide behind his wings, but that offered little solace as Elpenor rubbed what little scruff he had against his neck. In the past, Asterios had mocked him for not being able to grow a full beard, but it was just enough to be pure torture.

"Just kihihill mehe alreaDYYYY!" he broke off into a giggly shriek, flailing helplessly.

"Fine, have it your way. Death by tickles it is. Not a very heroic way to go, if you ask me," he mused smugly.

Gods save him, this is downright cruel! Fucking fine! Let the bastard win, his sanity is worth more than his shattered dignity at this point.

"Ohohokahahay, you wihihin!" he caved, and Elpenor pulled away with a smug grin. Asterios gasped for breath in between residual giggles, eyes closed and still smiling.

"I believe there's something you wanted to say?" he prompted.

His lips twitched into a forced scowl, "Yeah, you're a dick." Elpenor gasped at the insult and went back to scribbling at the base of his wings, causing him to crumble immediately.

"Okay okahay, I'm sorry!"

"That's what I thought." It took all the willpower he had not to mock him. When Asterios realized that he hadn't stopped staring at him, he let out a frustrated huff.

"By the Gods, alright already! I guess I'm… maybe, kinda, a little bit... cute," he said the word as if it left a bitter taste on his tongue. He felt like he needed to rinse his mouth out with sea water.

Elpenor arched a brow in amusement. "Is that the best you can do?"

"It's the best you're gonna get."

"Fair enough," he finally relented, letting Asterios go. He let himself go completely limp on the stairs, not bothering to move his head from Elpenor's lap.

"You better sleep with one eye open tonight," he threatened, but the wide grin on his face diminished the threat.

"Yeah yeah," he waved him off dismissively.

"I mean it!" he insisted when it seemed he wasn't being taken seriously.

"Sure you do," Elpenor nodded along. Asterios rolled his eyes and sat up straight, turning away from him with a huff. One last thing wouldn't hurt...

He leaned forward and blew against his wings, eliciting one last squeal from his friend. He whipped around to fix him with a glare, but it was blatantly obvious that he was holding back a shy, playful grin.

"Try that again and see what happens."

[detectivemarvelingcomics]

Not Your Classic Vigilante [Ch. 11]

Alternate Dimension AU TW: Language, Light Alcohol CW: OC Use, See the OC Guide [Here] Genre: Drama, Action, Angst, Light Comedy Pairing: Batfamily & Batsis!Reader, OC x Reader YN Pronouns: Female (She/Her) Word Count: 7.4K

(11/?) [First] | [Previous] | [Next] [DC Masterlist] | [Not Your Classic Vigilante Masterlist]

Notes: This has to be the fastest I've uploaded an update AHAHA also quick heads up I updated the OC Guide

Disclaimer: This series is originally by @fandom-meanderer who is a close friend of mine, but she has since fallen out of her Tumblr days and asked me to finish a few series for her, hence why I am now in ownership of the Not Your Classic Vigilante series, I hope I can still live up to her writing as I rewrite this series! (I promise not to change too much, hehe)

2015

“I’m home,” your keys hung loosely from your hands. “Hello?” Usually, you would’ve been greeted by at least Alfred. “Timmy? Cass?” Still, no response. “Well, what the fuck,” you shrugged and trudged upstairs. The manor was unnervingly quiet today, and you knew well enough that there was something amiss. Then, finally, you heard a conversation just ahead.

“I apologize if it’s a little cramped,” Alfred remarks. You stuck your head in. “Ah, Miss (Y/N), welcome home.”

“Hey, Alfred,” you looked at the child in front of you. “Huh… they get younger every year,” you crossed your arms.

“And who the hell are you?” He snarks. “A maid?”

“Oh, and he’s feisty,” you leaned against the door frame. “What’s your story then? Orphaned? Stole tires? Figured him out?” You went down the line and counted on your hands.

“Not necessarily,” your dad walks in from behind you and you jumped in your shoes.

“Hello to you too,” you rolled your eyes.

“(Y/N), this is Damian,” your father introduces him. “He’s your brother.” Your eyes widened. You looked at Damian again and, now that you really thought of it, you could see the resemblance to older pictures of your dad.

“Half brother, I’m guessing,” you added.

“Right. This will be his home from now on, help him get adjusted,” your father places the luggage in his hands down. “But, I’m not too worried about you.”

“Huh, have you told Dick yet?”

“He got here half an hour ago.”

“Oh, well, I guess I’ll clean up whatever mess happens,” you pushed off of the door now. “It’s nice to meet you, Damian, let’s get to know each other better later once you’re finished unpacking. I know a great arcade in the city you might like,” you adjusted your backpack and crossed the hall to your room. You leaned your backpack against your desk and went straight to work. The college application deadline was fast approaching and you had to be on top of it, then exam season was also following in its heels so you had to remain vigilant of that.

“So what exactly is your role, then?” Damian’s voice came behind you. You ignored the way your heart stopped from shock and turned around after taking a deep breath. You'd never get used to being snuck up on, even after having to deal with your brothers.

“Heiress. You?”

“You? Heir to what? The Batman title?” He was seated on your bed with his arms crossed.

“Oh no, no way, heiress to Wayne Industries of course,” you corrected him. “I have no intentions of doing whatever vigilante work dad or any of you usually do,” you crossed your arms and shook your head.

“You’re pulling my leg.”

“No, sir, I am not,” you nudged your head toward the desk behind you. “Plus I have more important things to worry about.”

“So you have no formal training at all?” Damian asks with heavy skepticism.

“I mean, I have basic combat skills that I learned from Dick and Jason, but that’s about it, just enough to handle my own, but not enough to do any vigilante work,” your eyes shifted to the side in thought. “Why?”

“I find it hard to believe that anyone would pass up an opportunity to become stronger.”

“I’m stronger in my own way, thank you very much,” you rolled your eyes and turned back around to your desk. “If you need anything else, just let me know. We’re siblings so I’ll always be happy to help you out,” you opened your laptop and started typing up one of your college essays. Damian didn’t respond, and when you looked back to check on him, he was gone. “They get stranger every time too…” you mumbled right as Dick sent a text to the sibling group chat.

‘THERE’S ANOTHER ONE?!’ You chuckled and shook your head.

‘Yeah.’ Tim’s response was blunt and your heart suddenly sank. Especially when just moments later his contact name appeared across your screen. You answered without hesitation.

“Hey, Timmy, what’s up?” You asked.

“Hey, sis, are you busy right now?”

“Just working on college applications, but I have plenty of time, where are you?”

“Let’s grab a coffee together, my treat! I just want someone to talk to right now.”

“Of course, Tim, I’ll be right over, our usual spot, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll save us a table. Drive safe, (Y/N).”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m heading out now, bye!”

“See you.” He hung up first and you grabbed your things before heading out of your room. Damian, meanwhile, kicked off from the wall next to your room.

“Where are you going?” He asks. You toss him a quick glance and a shrug.

“Out, why?”

“Out to patrol, right?” He presses. You shake your head.

“Nope, I already told you, I don’t do that stuff,” you walked down the stairs and he followed.

“Not even like Gordon?”

“Uh… Mr. Gordon or Babs?” You ask.

“Barbara.”

“No, I’m not too versed in tech, not on her level at least,” you grabbed your keys. “I’d invite you to join me, but I’m meeting up with Tim so maybe next time,” you tossed them in your hand now.

“For an intel report?”

“Why are you so set on me being a vigilante? I want nothing to do with that stuff, Damian,” you turned to him now. What was so hard for him to understand that you just weren’t a fighting person?

“It’s just…” Damian stops. You realized now how small he was, he couldn’t have been older than ten. “My… our father is the Batman. My mother is Talia al Ghul and yours is Selina Kyle.” Huh, he did his research. “I just can’t wrap my head around the fact that you’re wasting your potential. Why would you choose to be ordinary when you could be extraordinary?” He asks. You hummed and crossed your arms, what a way to put your decision down and by a child no less. You didn’t know Damian well at all, you’d just met him today and here he was putting your life on blast.

“Well, I guess that’s something we’ll both find out together later, huh? I’ll see you later, Damian,” you cut the conversation off and walked down to the garage. This time, Damian didn’t follow you.

~

2022

“I’m sorry you had to come here while it’s in this state, Damian,” you grimaced. You start moving around the apartment to tidy it up at least a little, “as you can tell, we’re not usually home,” you start piling beer bottles in your arms and tossing them in the bin. “I’ll be back, their majesties call,” you said with an annoyed tone before disappearing into one of the rooms.

“It feels like I have a massive hangover,” Nixon whines as he collapses on the couch.

“I think all my ribs are broken,” Carter mutters next to him.

“It’s not a competition, boy scout,” Nixon groans. “Alex?” He looks over at him.

“Get in line,” Alex finishes up wrapping Eve’s hands with fresh bandages.

“The fact that you two can both self-heal is fucking bullshit,” Nixon cries.

“It’s actually reattachment, which is much more painful than regen,” Alex replies, “Damian, come over here, (Y/N) would kill me if she saw so much as a scratch,” he gestures to the chair and Damian sits down hesitantly. “I don’t think you remember me.”

“I don’t.”

“Blunt, much?” Nixon snickers.

“I was penpals with your sister,” he rolls the bandages over Damian’s arms. “Nothing more, we had a thousand miles between us and your sister had a reply period of two business weeks,” he rolls his eyes. “Oh, Evangeline, could you look around if we have something for the lad to eat? When was the last time he ate anything?”

“When he scarfed down my lunch two days ago,” Nixon answers.

“Has it been two days?” Alex taps his head. The time period he’s been here had gone by in a blur. He didn’t even realize it had been that long at all. Landing here on this Earth, nearly being eaten alive by god knows what, and waiting in the cold dirt floors of the regroup encampment, before finally landing here. He wondered how many people went into battle because there were only fourteen people who made it to the encampment.

“I’m not hungry,” Damian cuts in. Just thinking of the brief moment he’d seen the aftermath of the battle nearly turned his stomach inside out.

“It’s not that, Damian, look at your hands,” Alex starts opening drawers and cabinets. Damian looks down and feels his throat go dry. His hands seemed nearly transparent as if he could stick them through anything and they’d easily go through.

“Explain, now!”

“This Earth’s protective spell is rejecting you since you’re not from here, eating anything from here will bypass that spell and make it seem like you’re native,” Alex opened the fridge. One beer and one egg.

“How old are you again, Damian?” Alex asks.

“Sixteen.”

“That’s old enough,” he took the bottle and hit the cap on the counter. The cap bounced off with a quiet clink and he handed it to Damian.

“He’s a child!” Eve gasps.

“Would you like to eat a raw egg, Damian?” He asks. Damian shakes his head. “Bottoms up then,” he hands the beer bottle to him.

“Wow, you two really live like this,” Nixon groans.

“How do you still have the energy to be an asshole?” Carter asks him.

“My sister surrounded herself with idiots,” Damian says with a quarter-finished bottle of beer. Just in time for you to walk out in a cleaner uniform. You adjusted your gloves over your hand.

“Oh, you gave my baby brother a beer,” you observed. “You could’ve given him the egg, you know.”

“You broke both our pot and pan,” Alex reminds you.

“In self-defense,” you grabbed your keys off the counter. “How you holding up, kiddo, tired? Hungry?”

“Confused,” Damian watched the color return to his hands.

“Wow, you two really are siblings, huh?” Nixon asks.

“I know, you think they’re idiots, it’s fine, come on, I have to take you with me,” you nudged your head toward the door and waited for Damian to follow. “Someone already reported Damian to her majesty, she’s demanding an explanation and I have about half an hour to bullshit a good one.”

“Oh, man, she’s going to give you hell, (Y/N),” Nixon’s laugh turns into a groan of pain.

“Dumbass,” you rolled your eyes. “Come on, Damian, I’ll explain everything on the way,” you gestured for him to stand up and he did so. “Eve, do me a solid, can you warp us to the castle?”

“Of course,” she places her hand on her heart and bows slightly before waving her hand in a circular motion. A portal opens up next to her and inside Damian could see the faint traces of a regal room on the other side. 

“You head in first, Dami,” you urged him in, and, carefully, he stepped through and landed in what looked like a waiting room. He turned around and saw a distorted version of your apartment within the vortex’s walls.

“What are you going to do about him, (Y/N)?” Alex asks.

“Get him home, obviously. But not now, the royal family is watching him because some idiot reported him as a survivor,” you shook your head. “I’ll figure it out.”

“Until then, he’d going to have to act.”

“I know, that’s what I’m worried about. I'm just trying to make sure he doesn't freak out,” you said before you finally stepped through and it swirled closed. “Okay so…” you looked Damian over, “I asked his highness for a favor, you can’t go in wearing your uniform,” you brushed the ashes off of his shoulder. Then, behind you, there is a knock at the door.

“Captain? May I come in?” Calvin’s voice was only loud enough for those in the room to hear.

“Door’s open.” The prince slid in with a bundle of clothes in his hands.

“Oh, goodness, when I heard you’d brought back a child with you I didn’t think the rumors were serious,” Calvin stares at Damian for a moment longer before turning to you. “These should fit him, I think, it’s the uniform we give to the wards when they’re still training.”

“I know what these are, I usually hand them out anyway,” you shrugged. “Damian, this is His Highness the Crown Prince, Calvin Reinhart. Your Highness, this is my younger brother, Damian Wayne.”

“I see, there is a subtle aura to you both that I now understand runs in the family,” he says vaguely. You handed the clothes to Damian.

“Get changed into those, kiddo, then we’ll talk,” you nodded.

“Comfort room is just across the hall,” Calvin points in its general direction with two fingers and Damian turns to you. You just nodded your head again and he left, just barely catching the conversation behind him. “I never took you as one to pick up a ward.”

“He’s in my care for the time being and he’s interested in Knighthood.” Your voices fell silent as soon as he closed the door behind him. He looked at himself in the mirror for a brief moment, spotting the scars and the healed-over gashes as well as the bandages, before slipping on the fresher pair of clothes. He folded his tattered uniform carefully, the encircled R staring back at him as he walked back.

“We should have him complete a field test then, you know what people would say if you just let him in.” Damian walked into the rest of the conversation and you held your hand out. He placed his uniform on it and you pushed it carefully into a backpack that you handed to him after.

“Oh, of course, I’ll do it by the books,” you reassured him. “What should I expect walking in?”

“My father wants a full report on what happened, you can just ignore whatever chide remarks my mother sends your way though,” he says.

“And you?”

“I don’t have a say in any of this,” he sighs. He looks at Damian. “Wow, a perfect fit.”

“He’s as ready for this as any of those other kids are,” you crossed your arms.

“Are you sure? That test is difficult, I barely got through it,” he says.

“Yours was a formality, your highness,” you reminded him.

“Right, right,” Calvin nods with a knowing smile. “I’ll see you in the throne room, then,” he bids goodbye and closes the door quietly behind him.

“Look at you, handsome devil,” you rubbed his hair gently and leaned against the table in the room. “Alright, Damian, ready for your first mission on this new Earth?”

“Absolutely,” he straightens up.

“Mission one on the new Earth: Be good, blend in. Look, the royal family can’t know that you dropped from another Earth, okay? As far as they know we’ve all been born and raised here, very few people know about where the Brigade members came from. So, let’s get our story straight,” you leaned down and spoke in a quiet voice. Your eyes moved side to side to ensure that no one was listening. “Like usual, you are my younger brother. Our parents are living in the mountain regions and sent both of us down when we were teenagers to find livelihoods. I’m all done, but you’re just starting, I brought you in to live with me because you were interested in joining the Knight’s Order, and from today on you will be my apprentice,” you spoke in a steady voice and he nodded.

“Anything else I should know?”

“Don’t look into the eyes of the queen directly, she’ll know that you’re lying,” you told him. “Each member of the royal family has a special ability that has kept them in power. The King can crush your bones at the snap of his fingers, the Queen can know if you’re telling the truth with a simple glance at your eyes, and the Prince can throw anything and it’d reach it’s target. The presence of these innate abilities and the power to grant them is proof of royal blood,” you explained. “But, you don’t need to worry about all of that, hell, you don’t even have to worry about the practical exam coming up to enter as a Knight’s apprentice, at your skill level I’d promote you to the highest already,” you laughed shortly. “But, let me do all the talking in there, just observe, and if you notice something’s off, find a subtle way to tell me,” you stood up and he followed you out. You knew the layout of the castle already, having been here almost as many times as your own home, and finally you stood beyond two grandiose doors that stretched higher than Damian thought normal.

“Ready to go?”

“Yeah,” he nodded his head and you opened the doors, together, you both walked into the grand throne room. Before you sat three of the most powerful people in that world and, to say the least, Damian felt the pressure in the atmosphere. It was similar to those few times when he knew his enemies out-skilled him. He found himself subconsciously moving toward you and, as if you understood, your hand pulled him closer.

“Captain,” the King spoke.

“Your Majesty,” you stopped a good distance away from the thrones, bowed your head, and put your hand to your heart. Damian followed suit.

“What is that behind you,” the Queen spat. Damian didn’t miss the annoyed look in your eyes as you looked up at the other woman.

“My younger brother, and soon to be my apprentice,” you explained.

“I see,” she relaxes into her seat. “Quite the predicament you’ve found yourself in. If he will affect your duties, dispose of him.” Damian’s fists clenched behind his back, but he said nothing.

“That won’t be a problem. You’ll soon see that he is a very capable young man.”

“Tch,” the Queen turned her nose. Damian suddenly realizes why Jason would be so pissed when he did that to him. “So he’s virtually untouchable.”

“Yes.”

“Give me news on that village,” the King cut into the conversation.

“It’s unsalvageable, Your Majesty,” You replied curtly. He shifted slightly.

“How many survivors?”

“Five…”

“Hundred?” He cut you off.

“No, your majesty. Five,” you touched your heart again. “Correction, three, not including us from the Knight’s Order.”

“My god,” the Queen shook her head. “How could your team, your special operations unit, have failed?!”

“I believe I’ve told you before, Your Majesty, there have been frequent sightings of a new and much stronger daemon in our midst. Usually, we have been able to handle these mutations, but, for reasons unknown, an entire herd of a new variant descended upon the village,” you stood your ground and continued to explain the situation, all of which Damian already knew as Eve filled him in.

“Usually?” The King’s stance straightened and the Queen’s expression grew grave.

“Father, if you’d recall, I gave you a brief report on the Brigade’s findings a few days ago,” Calvin spoke up. The King held his hand up and Calvin stopped. “Captain, you look like you’re about to say something,” he gestures toward you.

“Yes, Your Majesty, I can assure you that the Brigade has everything under control.”

“New variant?” She asks. “How long have you been dealing with these beasts before informing us?!”

“Near a year now, Your Majesty, but with much smaller variants.”

“A year?! When were you planning on reporting this?!” She shouts.

“The Brigade has had this issue under control up until now. The mutations were advancing at a slow rate until now, and thus we kept a watchful eye on them. As I said, the variant that destroyed that village is a new one. We have never seen one that advanced that far,” your voice remained firm.

It was a presence that Damian wasn’t used to. The longer he stayed here, the more he realizes how much you’ve changed. Especially now, you look just like their father. Damian’s eyes wandered to the Prince, who was silent this entire time. He was almost entirely different than when he saw him earlier, whatever warmth he thought he saw in him was replaced with a bitter coldness that matched his parents, it was almost impressive. Calvin was watching you with a strange mix of curiosity, confusion, and concern. His head rested on the palm of his hand as he tried to feign superiority, but he held a similar annoyed expression that you had, with his eyes constantly shifting to the Queen, who seemed ready to boil over with rage.

“I see,” the King tapped his foot, the sound bouncing off of the room’s walls. “Then continue doing what you’ve been doing.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Await further orders then, Captain. You are dismissed.” You bowed your head again, turned on your heel, and left, Damian following close behind with every hair at the back of his neck standing up from the stares alone.

~

“What do you mean, you can’t find him?” Dick shouts. Tim rubs his head angrily and gestures toward the screen.

“Do you see him on the radar? No? Well, neither can I!” He argues. Jason rolls his eyes.

“Stop arguing,” Bruce sighs.

“Why am I even here?” Jason grumbles. He takes his helmet. “I’m out, this is stupid. We’re wasting time using this tech, I’ll find him myself and drag him back, yeah? Maybe the kid found (Y/N) already too,” he says.

“Jason has a point, we’re getting nowhere configuring this system,” Bruce concedes.

“Jason, Bruce, wait, come on, we should make sure he’s alright, the fact that he’s not pinging here is a huge problem,” Dick reasons. Tim turns back to the bat computer and a notification pings. “Hold on, there’s some noise about a strange light in the third district, it might be something to look into.”

“Pull it up, then,” Bruce says.

“Yeah,” Tim answers. He pulls up the grainy CCTV footage, speeding through the footage to find something of interest, and once he saw the bright light he scrubbed back a few minutes, and the figure centered in it was unmistakable. They watched as Damian ran around the area, asking random people who happened to be passing by, and whatnot, then a stranger walked up to him and inaudibly told him something. Whatever he said, Damian listened carefully, before the stranger pulled out what looked similar to a pocket watch. Damian watched the pendulum move from side to side before falling to the ground. The stranger lifted him and disappeared into the alley, a bright light emitting from it, and the footage ended there.

“Shit… I should’ve known it was one of the three,” Steph frowns.

“Three?” Tim turns to her.

“You know… aliens, robots, or wizards? This has to be wizard, it’s written all over it,” she says.

“Damian was not kidnapped by wizards,” Tim drags a tired hand down his face.

“Holy shit, Damian was kidnapped by wizards?!” Jason looks up from his phone and then it was Bruce’s turn to sigh, but before the argument could continue, then a notification pings on the batcomputer and Tim was quick to navigate to it.

“Whoa… what’s that?” Jason looks at the picture on the screen.

“I think (Y/N) left it behind, I found it on her seat after I woke up,” Tim skims through the report. “Damn… no matches.”

“Looks like it belongs to a wizard,” Steph whispers, and Cass snickers.

“Wait, try cross-referencing it with the CCTV from earlier,” Dick cuts in.

“You sure?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was holding a watch.”

“It could just be a pocket watch, you know?” Jason argues.

“Who the hell carries pocket watches in the 21st century?” Steph chides.

“It’s a match!” Tim nearly jumps from his seat.

“Shit, never mind then,” Jason shrugs and Tim pulls the pocketwatch from its spot on the console. He opens it quickly.

“Take a look inside of it, I noticed that the watch face looked too peculiar,” Tim tapped it and so far, no dice. There was no reaction or movement whatsoever. Inside the watch face was a series of concentric circles that were intersected by a number of hands that extended the length of each circle’s radii.

“Yeah… uh… maybe it also reads milliseconds,” Jason hums.

“I doubt that,” Tim grimaces.

“You guys really think it’s magic?” Dick asks.

“I’m thinking more of that it could be some complicated tech that neither of us understands yet,”

And so, operation Save Damian is a go.

~

2015

“So… how’s the new kid doing?” Steph asks. You, her, Cass, and Babs sat at a cafe table, you just wanting to eat your sandwich while the three of them were extra intent on hearing the drama from you firsthand.

“Damian’s doing good, stellar, actually, like… he’s probably one of the best Robins from the get-go,” you shrugged.

“Best Robin? That’s a loaded statement,” Steph chuckled.

“I did say from the get-go. But, to be fair, Damian’s raising situation was a little different than the others.”

“Right, the al Ghuls,” Steph says with an exaggerated tone. 

“If you want to ask about Robin stuff you should ask the guys though, I’m not involved in that stuff,” you shook your head. “Like… Jesus, the kid’s only ten! I know it’s not my place to judge but… I kinda want to give him at least a bit of a childhood but he’s so…” you trailed, trying to find the right words to say.

“Bratty?” Steph asks.

“Rude?” Babs tries.

“Conceited?” Cass says before drinking her iced coffee.

“Those are a bit harsh,” you shook your head. You sighed and played with your straw for a bit. “Lonely. He seems very lonely,” you drank some of your drink, trying to ignore the hinted tension at the table now. “I don’t know… I mean, I get it, I do. He grew up to be an assassin, and he didn’t have time or the privilege to make friends, I don’t have the full story so I can’t assume, I just want him to feel comfortable,” you rest your chin on your palm.

“Takes one to know one, huh?” Cass asks.

“Yeah,” you answered absently. Then, in the blink of an eye, you smiled and shook your head. “Not that I was lonely, you know? Obviously, I had all of you, my brothers, my mom, and Alfred so I had plenty of people, and you’re all so wonderful so… I just want Damian to see that too. I get why he doesn’t want to be close with me since I’m just ordinary, but I hope at least Dick gets through to him,” you said.

“Well, Dick has a way with people so I’m sure they’ll bond somehow,” Babs nods.

“Ordinary… you’ve never used that word before,” Cass taps a finger on the table and you shook your head.

“It’s no big deal, it’s just the truth,” you shrugged. “When I first met Damian he said something interesting to me, actually,” you adjusted yourself so you were more comfortable on the metal chairs, “he brought up how our dad is Bruce Wayne, then he brought up how my mom is Selina Kyle, and he asked me why I settled to be ordinary when I could’ve been extraordinary.”

“Yeah, sis, he’s just a brat,” Steph deadpans.

“Hey now,” you shot a pointed look at her and she shrugs. “Anyway, I got to thinking about it over with Tim—”

“Aw, hell, Tim! Shit, how’d he take the news?” Steph asks. You shook your head.

“You didn’t hear it from me, but not well. Wait for him to talk to you about it though,” you told her. “But back on topic… I discussed it with Tim and he told me that of all of us, I was the most important member,” you rolled your eyes. “I didn’t buy it at first but…” you took a deep breath. “Every super family needs a civilian, right?” You finally said. Cass reached over and held your hand in hers, squeezing it with some amount of reassurance.

“You are so much more than just an ordinary civilian, (Y/N),” Steph says. “You’re our sister, through and through. Not just anyone can shut Jason up the way you do,” she adds with a short laugh.

“Yeah, I’m sure Damian is hurting right now, he needs time to open up,” Cass says.

“He’s an interesting boy, he’s so mission-driven that it surprises me,” Babs sighs. 

“Dad thinks that me taking him out is a waste,” you sighed.

“Bruce said that?” Babs masks her surprise.

“He said it in a very Bruce Wayne way, you know? I told him I’d be taking Damian with me somewhere and he would hit me with the “Again?” and ugh it just makes me angry,” you grumbled.

“Well, he was never able to control you either, so there’s probably not much he could do to stop you,” Steph says.

“Like he’d try,” you leaned back against the chair and stole a glance at your watch. “I should head back to the manor, I still have assignments,” you sighed.

“Oh, need a ride? Let’s share an Uber,” Babs says.

“Sure, yeah, how about you two?”

“I have to go on patrol,” Steph says.

“Ditto,” Cass readjusts her scarf and you nod.

“Good luck, then, stay safe,” you gave the both of them hugs before following Barbra.

“You know, (Y/N),” Barbara spoke up when you were a good distance away, “I think what you’re doing for Damian is good,” she says.

“What am I doing?”

“Giving him a chance,” she says. “You’re right, he’s still a child, even though he acts so mature, sometimes I hear a sliver of the child he is and it reminds me that normally he wouldn’t be handling these kinds of missions,” she says.

“Yeah, I always worry about him,” you shake your head.

“(Y/N), about what Tim said, he’s right, you know. You keep us in touch with our human side, I know sometimes you feel left out when you walk into our meetings, but you are an instrumental member of our family,” she continues. “Remember that, (Y/N).”

“I know, I know,” you nodded. You’d known ever since you renounced the vigilante business. The looks you got from everyone were just different, and the looks you got from people after were just as bad.

~

“Thirsty? You should drink something,” you pulled out two discs from your pocket while you and Damian walked along the castle halls. Holding the discs close together, you firmly grasped onto the handles and twisted them to open and, as you separated the discs, water gathered between them.

“Whoa…” he observes it and you hand it to him. “How do I drink this?”

“You can hold it with one hand,” you chuckled and reached over, pulling out a small sphere of water and popping it into your mouth. “We have actual water bottles, but it’s just easier to carry that around,” you said.

“Is this magic?” He copies you and pulls a small sphere of water from the middle before drinking it.

“Yup, Alex brought it from somewhere,” you answered while Damian handed the device back to you. You resealed it and put it away. “Now, today’s the entrance practical for new knights, I gotta admit that we lucked out there. Like I said earlier, I’m pretty sure you’ll pass with flying colors,” you turned him down a hallway.

“What should I expect?”

“It’s divided into two exams. The first is an obstacle course, you have to get through it within ten minutes. The second is a mock hunt, you’ll have to fight and capture a beginner-level beast,” you say. “Easy, for you, trust.” You both walked out into the training grounds, Damian shielded his eyes from the harsh sunlight while he looked around seeing knights of various backgrounds roam around. “See that building over there? The one with the green banner on it? That’s for you and the other examinees, go ahead and make yourself comfortable there for now while I meet with the others to prep the course, and, oh! One more thing Dami!”

“Yeah?”

“Be nice to the other kids, okay? Not everyone's as cool as you.” You urged him forward and you waited for him to reach the practice house before taking off yourself.

Damian opened the door cautiously, seeing boys and girls similar to his age all talking amongst themselves and preparing for the exam. 

“So the rumors are true, they let in a homeschooler?” One of the boys snarked. Damian turns to him, unamused. “Guess what, mountain boy, this exam isn’t for bumpkins like you,” he sneers.

“Oh, leave him alone, Hugo!” One of the girls grimaces. “Here, new kid, come sit with us,” she waves Damian over to a table with a few others and, remembering your words, obliges. “I’m Retta,” she introduces herself.

“Damian,” he sits next to her.

“I’m Niers!” The platinum blond boy next to him is next.

“My name’s Luciana,” the tanned girl goes next.

“And I’m Lowen,” the last boy introduces himself.

“So, is it true? You didn’t go to any of the academies?” Niers asks. Damian nods.

“Yeah, I trained… in the mountains,” he holds back a groan. Maybe you didn’t change at all, your lies were still obvious.

“That’s so crazy, I always forget there’s a whole village up there,” Niers hums. “Shoot, so you don’t know what to expect, huh?”

“I have an idea,” Damian eyes the tarts that Retta stacks on his plate.

“Eat them, they’re good for you. They have some mild stamina enhancers in them,” she smiles.

“I mean, we’ve kinda always known what the exam has,” Luciana mutters. “Lowen and I have siblings in the Knighthood already,” she says.

“Really?” Well, that’s a coincidence.

“Yeah, my older brother’s Aldryn,” Lowen says it with a slight hint of disdain. “Luci's are the twins in lab coats.”

“My older siblings! Marion'll be at the test today too, I’m so nervous,” she chews on the inside of her lip and Retta places a cookie on her plate.

“For the nerves,” she says. “No worries though, depending on how you fail you get a retest,” Retta explains.

“Is it really that difficult?” Damian asks.

“Oh, you don’t even know,” Niers shudders. “But… all of this for one reason!” He says. The four teens put their hands in the center and a blazing determination appears in their gazes. They glance at Damian, waiting for him to join in and, with a sigh and a roll of his eyes, he does so.

“To meet the Captain Wayne in the flesh!” Luciana says. Damian is taken aback for a moment.

“To meet the Captain Wayne!” The other three announce. What are the odds he gets sucked into his sister’s fan club?

‘Good grief…’ he could feel his battery draining already.

“Examinees, to the exam field,” Nixon walks in holding a clipboard. He eyes Damian but makes no other attempts at acknowledgment before leaving.

“That’s our cue! Follow us, Damian, we help each other out in this group!” Retta smiles.

“And who said I was in this group?”

“We all did now go!” Niers pushes everyone forward.

Damian listened in on all the conversations on their way to the site, trying to get a general idea of what awaited him. He’d heard many different things, but if one detail was certain, it was that the beast at the end was what they called a ‘Hamig’ whatever that was. You had mentioned to him that it was a beginner-level beast, but he still remained on his guard.

But when he saw the test site, he had to hold back a laugh. And when he spotted you walking toward the group, the eye contact alone almost made you both laugh.

You were right. This was child’s play.

“Students of the 28th class, today is your practical exam to join the Knighthood. My name is Captain (Y/N) Wayne and I oversee all the affairs of the Knighthood and the Brigade. Today myself, Nixon Jones, and Carter Adara will be observing your exams and grading you. You will know if you passed or failed as soon as you complete the exam and you are allowed one retest and one only. If you fail both of those, you will be held back to the next class practical which will happen exactly a year from now. We will be conducting the first exam now, then we’ll have a break, and finally the second part. Don’t let your guard down, and impress us. Your rankings will be given to you today as well,” you instructed. “So, who’s first?” You looked among the crowd. Damian crossed his arms, the first rule of undercover was easy, don’t stand out. He would have to observe the general skill level of everyone first just in case. “Ah, a volunteer already! Let’s see if I’m remembering correctly, Hugo Gardner?” You asked. Damian’s gaze moved over to the boy who pushed his way forward.

“That’s me, I’m glad you remember,” his bravado’s unmatched.

“Right, hard to forget you,” you smiled.

“This is Hugo’s fourth time retaking the practical,” Lowen says quietly, and Damian fights back a snort. This was the kid who tried to demean him? He couldn’t wait to see him fail the course.

And fail he did. Landing face first into the mud below because he didn’t gauge how far the next platform was.

“Gardner, back to the group, you’ll be retesting after everyone completes their exam,” Carter says.

“Whatever,” Hugo spats. “See that, mountain boy?! If I could barely get through it you could kiss this title goodbye!” He laughs. Damian glares at him and you shook your head. Not yet, it was a reminder.

Then, students came and went, students passed, and students failed, and, finally, that left Damian. He had looked over everyone’s abilities enough that he could replicate it to avoid attention, he didn’t want to make this more difficult for you, at least. He had heard a range of different times already, he’d heard eight minutes, nine minutes, eleven minutes, and more and less. The best time right now was five minutes and forty-two seconds. He could complete this in two, but he knew he shouldn’t, don’t draw attention.

“You can still drop out, mountain hobo!” Hugo’s insults were obviously forced.

Aw, whatever, Damian couldn’t resist a chance to show off against people like that. So, he stood at the starting line, and once you had blown the whistle, he took off.

The first course was simple, climbing. One jump and a strategically planned landing point had him at the top in seconds. Then, where Gardner failed, the jump to the next platform. Easy, Damian didn’t have to think of it. The next section was a series of spinning columns with various protrusions, and this one took out a lot of the cohort already, but, again, easy. The trick was to see the pattern before running in, and he’d seen it so many times already. The final part stretched over a small body of water with various buoys set up. There were many strategies for this one, such that he’d seen, either use momentum at each buoy or use them as floaters. Damian decided to do neither of those and used them as platforms instead, moving with ease among each and landing at the finish line.

“Two minutes,” Nixon clicks the stopwatch, and surprised gasps and cheers followed.

“That was crazy, Damian! Why didn’t you tell us you were that good?” Niers compliments him. “Shoot, now I feel kinda embarrassed, you’re a pro!”

“We worried for no reason,” Luci's shoulders relaxed.

“Hey, check out Hugo,” Lowen grins. Hugo had begun his retest, standing at the top of the climbing tower and staring at the platform. Be good, Damian thought of those words again. After years of living with his father, of being good, maybe this new Earth was a chance to try anew.

“Hey, Gardner!” Damian shouts. Hugo glares at him. “Focus on the platform before you jump, trust your instincts! If you’d been training for this, then you can handle it,” Damian instructs. Hugo takes a deep breath and, assumably, follows Damian’s instructions and successfully lands on the platform.

“Shouldn’t we call that out,” Nixon nudges you.

“No, I don’t think I can handle watching Hugo come in another year, he’s been working hard for this. Teamwork and trust are also tenets we emphasize,” you say. You watched Hugo continue through the course with difficulty and, once he’d reached the finish, Nixon checked the stopwatch.

“Eight minutes and seven seconds,” he calls, “congrats, Hugo, you advance to the final test,” he says. Hugo stands for a moment, catching his breath, when tears finally slipped down and his friends rushed over to him, all congratulating him on his achievement.

“You did good, kid,” you nudged Damian with your clipboard and he shrugs it off.

“Whatever…” he says. You slipped a lunch bag in his hand.

“So, let’s take a break, then we’ll complete today’s exam. Everyone who didn’t pass, don’t take it to heart, use this as a learning experience to prepare for the next exam. And those who did pass, don’t let it get to your head, the second exam is much harder,” you announced, walking past Damian as if nothing had happened.

“Damian! Come over here!” Retta calls him over again and he follows while he opened the paper bag and spotted the salad and fruits inside, and beneath it a wrapped veggie burger. Then, as he sat down, Damian felt an overwhelming sense of nostalgia and, if memory served him right, then your note should be sandwiched under the fruits and bingo. He reads the note in the bag, keeping his privacy about himself as he does so.

‘Why did P stick with J? Because P is butter with J! - Big Sis’ There is no Earth where that would have been funny. But, call it instinct, he flipped the note over and lo and behold, the actual message.

‘Hey Dami, the lunch they’re serving is boar roast and, obviously, you can’t eat that, so I had my assistant run and grab you these. They might taste a little different than what you’re used to, though, just keep an open mind.’ 

Keep an open mind? Damian pulled the salad out, eyeing the purple lettuce and pink spinach.

Oh.

~

As soon as the elevator doors opened, you walked straight forward, stopping in front of the cage with the beast inside, still standing, and still looming, but still silent. You looked at it carefully, going over all the details with a new understanding.

“Hello, old friend,” you crossed your arms and the beast seemed to bow its head. Unable to speak, it raises it now, exposing the dog tags melted into its fur. You looked at the protective circles around it, stepping through them carefully to approach the cage and, just barely, you could just barely make out the name on it.

‘CK - 78’ was engraved on it. Whoever this was, they weren’t part of the Knighthood.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know who you are,” you backed away from the cage and the beast whimpered, lowering to the ground and lying there peacefully.

“Captain,” you look over your shoulder and watch the two twin scientists enter.

“That’s the most relaxed it’s been,” Inigo speaks up.

“All day, every day, that thing snarls at me and snaps at whoever nears it. It likes you, Cap, I don’t know why though,” Marion shakes her head.

“Your guess is as good as mine, Mary,” you lied. Again, you looked at the beast, who watched you with one eye.

“Pitiful creature, if we weren’t studying it then I would’ve put it out of his misery,” Inigo shoves his hands into his lab coat pockets. “So, what can we help you with, Cap?”

“Just looking, there’s something that’s been bothering me since the last attack,” you crossed your arms. “The report said that this beast displayed an unparalleled strength, and after dealing with similar variants I can confirm that,” you looked over the beast again.

“We’ve been trying to heal the wounds too,” Marion says, “it won’t let us get close.”

“The beast is guarded, most wild beasts are,” you nodded. “Well, keep up the good work, it’s about time I proctored the second exam,” you looked at your watch.

“Damn, that time of the year already? Cut 'em some slack, Cap.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved your hand and left the room, hearing the beast stand up behind you with sounds of metal hitting the cage to prove it.

Not Your Classic Vigilante: @gabytodd @peachydokii @marshmallow12435 @f0leysgurl @luminaaz @lolsnack @akuri-shinsou @pansinspace @time-shardz @lovely-maryj @urminebutidontwantyou @y3oudsc 

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 2

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: After the apocalypse took everything Iris held dear, a new opportunity presents itself in the form of a bag of guns. Little does she know, that bag of guns starts something much bigger than she ever could have anticipated. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; gun violence, gang violence, offensive terminology for gang members and daryl, salty language

Chapter 2 - The Deal

The kid led them to a warehouse further into the city, and Iris was fidgeting with her knives. They waited at a wall further outside the building, a broken window between them and their friend. The bandana was back over her face, the bag of guns slung over T-Dog's shoulder. Rick rattled a shotgun shell next to his ear before loading it into the gun.

The group of warehouses was old enough to be made of brick and mortar, broken windows and doorframes unaccompanied by a roof. All except for the main building at the back, where the rest of the gang was presumably waiting. The kid wasn't smart enough to set them up, hopefully.

"You sure you're up for this?" Rick asked T-Dog.

"Yeah." He assured. Daryl gripped his crossbow tightly, keeping an eye on the kid as Iris peered through the broken barred window to the gate on the other side. Wasn't anything to write home about, but looks could be deceiving. 

"One wrong move, you get an arrow in the ass. Just so you know." Daryl grunted.

"G's gonna take that arrow out of my ass and shove it up yours. Just so you know." The kid retorted.

"G?" Rick asked.

"Guillermo. He's the man here."

"Okay then." Rick continued, cocking the gun. "Let's go see Guillermo." He gestured for Iris to go first and she scoffed, ducking through the bars and wire fence. T-Dog took up a sniper position on the wall to give them an edge. Rick pushed the kid forward and they followed him to the gate.

They slid open with a loud creak, a group of guards standing in the doorway. One man stepped forward, a cross chain hanging from his neck. He was shorter than the kid, and young. Didn't look like much of a threat, but there were more Iris couldn't see. She gripped the handle of her knife tighter.

"You okay, little man?" Guillermo asked, his hands in his pockets as he regarded them carefully.

"They're gonna cut off my feet, carnal." The kid replied, twitching. Clearly he'd never been a hostage before. That being said, most days consisted of things Iris had never done before.

"Cops do that?" Guillermo asked, his scrunched brow directed at Rick.

"Not him. This redneck puto, here. He cut off some dude's hand, man. He showed it to me." The kid whined. Iris glanced between Daryl and the kid.

"Shut up." Daryl snapped.

"Hey, that's that vato right there, homes." One of the men from before stepped, or limped, forward, one hand pointing at Daryl with a very small revolver, the other firmly pressing a rag to his ass. "He shot me in the ass with an arrow. What's up, homes, huh?"

"Chill, ese, chill. Chill." Guillermo said, holding out his arms to keep him back. He levelled his gaze back at them. "This true? He wants Miguelito's feet? That's pretty sick, man."

"We were hoping more for a calm discussion." Rick countered, shotgun still pointing at Miguel. 

"That hillbilly jumps on Felipe's cousin. Beats on him, threatens to cut off his feet. Felipe gets an arrow in the ass and you want a calm discussion?" Guillermo recounted, frowning. He licked his lips. "You fascinate me."

"Heat of the moment." Rick explained. "Mistakes were made. On both sides."

"Who's that dude to you anyway? You don't look related." He asked, nodding to Daryl.

"He's one of our group, more or less. I'm sure you have a few like him."

"You got my brother in there?" Daryl asked abruptly. 

"Sorry, we're fresh out of white boys." Guillermo replied, equally as fast. "But I got Asian. You interested?"

"I have one of yours, you have one of mine." Rick said evenly. "Sounds like an even trade."

"Don't sound even to me." Guillermo grunted.

"G..." Miguel protested. "Come on, man."

"My people got attacked." Guillermo continued, unfazed. "Where's the compensation for their pain and suffering? More to the point, where's my bag of guns?"

"Guns?" Rick asked.

"The bag Miguel saw in the street. The bag Felipe and Jorge were going back to get. That bag of guns."

"You're mistaken." Rick replied.

"I don't think so."

"About it being yours." He continued. "It's my bag of guns." Guillermo shrugged, leaning back with a frown.

"The bag was in the street. Anybody could come around and say it was theirs. I'm supposed to take your word?" He asked. "What's to stop my people from unloading on you right here and now and I take what's mine?" Felipe cocked his tiny gun once more, Jorge flanking Guillermo from the other side. Daryl raised his crossbow, clicking echoes coming from inside as more guns found their targets, men raised pipes and crowbars.

"You could do that." Rick shrugged, turning to where T-Dog had a rifle levelled at Guillermo's face. "Or not."

"Oye!" Guillermo called, looking up to the roof of the warehouse. Two guys walked to the edge, a third wrestling between them, a soiled bag tucked over his head. They ripped the bag off, Glenn whimpering with a piece of duct tape over his mouth. "I see two options." Guillermo continued. "You come back with Miguel and my bag of guns, everybody walks. Or you come back locked and loaded, we'll see which side spills more blood."

Guillermo shrugged again, raising an eyebrow at them before turning and retreating into the warehouse. Jorge and Felipe followed, the doors sliding shut. Rick put the shotgun down, sighing as Glenn and the two guards disappeared back onto the roof. Iris blew out a breath.

- "Them guns are worth more than gold." Daryl said pointedly. "Gold won't protect your family or put food on the table."

He was pacing back and forth in front of the desk Rick stood at, the bag of guns set atop it in consideration. Rick was checking them one by one under Iris' watchful eye. They'd come back to their cleared building, T-Dog watching over Miguel as they decided what to do. Guillermo was right, there were two ways this could go, and neither of them were ideal.

"You willing to give that up for that kid?" Daryl asked. Iris raised an eyebrow at him. The whole reason they were here was for their friend. Though, it seemed all he cared about was finding his hand-less brother. He still didn't trust her, that much was obvious, especially by the looks he gave her every few minutes. 

"If I knew we'd get Glenn back, I might agree. But you think that vato across the way is just gonna hand him over?" T-Dog asked.

"You calling G a liar?" Miguel asked.

"Are you a part of this?" Daryl snapped, slapping the kid across the face. "You want to hold onto your teeth?"

"You willing to risk it on Guillermo's word?" Iris asked, turning back to the sheriff. Rick sighed in exasperation.

"Could be risking more than them guns. Could be your life." Daryl added, making a face at Rick. "Glenn worth that to you?"

"What life I have I owe to him." Rick answered firmly. "I was nobody to Glenn, just some idiot stuck in a tank. He could have walked away, but he didn't. Neither will I."

"So you're gonna hand the guns over." Daryl concluded.

"I didn't say that." Rick reasoned. "Look, there's nothing keeping you three here. You should get out, head back to camp."

"And tell your family what?" T-Dog asked, rubbing his temple.

"I'm not going anywhere without my guns." Iris replied, shaking her head. Rick looked to the three of them, nodding conclusively. T-Dog stepped forward, him and Daryl taking a shotgun each.

"Oh, come on. This is nuts!" Miguel protested, siting right back down as Daryl pointed a stern finger at him. "Just do like G says." They loaded them up, each taking an additional hand gun. Iris loaded up her 22, slinging a rifle over her back. 

With a towel tied into his mouth and hands bound, Miguel was escorted by the four of them back to the warehouse and the makeshift courtyard. Iris was trying to ignore the anxiety pulsing in her stomach.

Daryl had his gun pressing into Miguel's spine as they walked, armed and dangerous, through the gate and into the warehouse. Iris carried the bag of guns over her shoulder as they passed through the hoard of guards. Guillermo met them halfway through the warehouse, guns pointed in all directions.

"I see my guns," He mused, "but they're not all in the bag."

"That's because they're not yours. I thought I mentioned that." Rick replied simply.

"Let's just shoot these fools right now, ese." Filipe urged. Daryl pressed the muzzle of the gun into the back of Miguel's head. "Alright? Unload on their asses, ese."

"I don't think you fully appreciate the gravity of the situation." Guillermo said sharply.

"No, I'm pretty clear." Rick assured. He nodded to Iris, who cut the duct tape binding Miguel's wrists and shoved him forward. "You have your man. I want mine."

"I'm gonna chop up your boy. I'm gonna feed him to my dogs." Guillermo murmured. "They're the evilest, nastiest man-eating bitches you ever saw. I picked them up from Satan at a yard sale. I told you how it has to be. Are you woefully deaf?"

"No, my hearing's fine. You said come locked and loaded." He stated, cocking the shotgun. It echoed as everyone around took aim, Guillermo staring down the barrel. "Okay then, we're here."

There was a pregnant pause of baited silence as they all waited for someone to make a move, to say something. They stared down one another, waiting for the triggers to be pulled. The silence was filled with a small shuffling, and a woman's voice carrying through the warehouse.

"Felipe! Felipe!" She called, tone wavering with age. Iris watched as an old woman walked through the warehouse of gangbangers with no fear.

"Abuela, go back with the others-- now." Felipe urged, keeping his gaze and gun pointed on them, though fear laced his words.

"Get that old lady out of the line of fire!" Daryl chastised. Guillermo huffed, turning to her.

"Abuela, listen to your mijo, okay?" He instructed softly. "This is not the place for you right now."

"Mr Gilbert is having trouble breathing." She pleaded, looking to her grandson and tugging on his shirt. "He needs his asthma stuff. Carlito didn't find it. He needs his medicine." Guillermo glanced nervously between them and the old woman.

"Felipe, go take care of it, okay?" He snapped. "And take your grandmother with you." Felipe took her gently, pleading with her to walk with him, but she brushed past him toward Guillermo, frowning at Rick.

"Who are those men?" She asked. "Don't you take him--"

"Ma'am--"

"Felipe is a good boy." She assured. "He has his trouble but he'll pull himself together. We need him here."

"Ma'am, I'm not here to arrest your grandson." Rick replied calmly, putting the gun down.

"Then what do you want him for?" She asked.

"He's... helping us find a missing person. A fella named Glenn." Rick answered.

"The Asian boy? He's with Mr. Gilbert. Come, come." She urged, waving him along. "I show you. He needs his medicine."

Iris hid her small smile behind her bandana as she followed Rick, Felipe and the old woman through the warehouse. Daryl and T-Dog stayed on their tail, watching the others carefully, even though Guillermo ordered to let them pass. 

The old woman held Rick's hand as she led them out of the warehouse and through a neat garden, and through the doors to another building. It was a hospice center, or a retirement home of some sort. Felipe asked his grandmother to take him to Mr. Gilbert, while the others glanced around.

There were doctor's offices and hospital beds, everything occupied by elderly people. Iris was quick to sheath her knives, following Rick into an old auditorium, tables and chairs set up for a common area. A man in a wheelchair at the back was coughing and wheezing, deeply inhaling as Felipe helped him with his inhaler. Glenn stood beside the, watching to make sure he'd be okay.

"What the hell is this?" Rick said softly.

"An asthma attack." Glenn replied worriedly. "Couldn't get his breath all of a sudden."

"I thought you were being eaten by dogs, man." T-Dog hissed. A small bark sounded from the corner, a trio of chihuahuas sitting in a leopard print bed. 

"Could I have a word with you?" Rick asked, taking Guillermo to the side. "You're the dumbest son of a bitch I ever met..." He hissed, Iris' attention taken away by Felipe's grandma approaching her.

"Young lady, why do you hide your face? Do you have a scar?" She asked, gesturing to her own face.

"No." Iris replied with a small smile, pulling the bandana down to show her face.

"Oh, que linda eres." She cooed, patting Iris' face. "I should introduce you to my grandson. There are no more pretty young girls around here." Iris laughed nervously as she toddled over to Felipe, prodding him in her direction. He flushed, swatting her hand away as he continued to help Mr. Gilbert.

"So you're the girl with the guns." Glenn said, folding his arms as he walked over. Iris turned to him, nodding.

"Iris." She said, holding out her hand.

"Glenn." He replied with a slight frown, shaking it politely. Rick and Guillermo finished their little chat, the former beckoning them into a small room where Guillermo could speak to them quietly.

"What about the rest of your crew?" Rick asked, gesturing to Iris. She handed him the bag of guns, eyeing the interaction closely.

"The vatos trickle in, to check on their parents, their grandparents. They see how things are and most decide to stay." Guillermo explained. "It's a good thing, too. We need the muscle. The people we've encountered since things fell apart? The worst kind. Plunderers, the kind that take by force."

"That's not who we are." Rick assured.

"How was I to know?" He defended. "My people got attacked, and you show up with Miguel hostage-- appearances."

"Guess the world changed." T-Dog mused.

"No." Guillermo disagreed. "It's the same as it ever was. The weak get taken. So we do what we can here. The vatos work on those cars, talk about getting the old people out of the city. But most can't even get to the bathrooms by themselves, so that's just a dream. Still, it keeps the crew busy, and that's worth something. So we barred all the windows, welded all the doors shut except for one entrance. The vatos, they go out, scavenge what they can to keep us going. We watch the perimeter night and day and we wait. The people here? They all look to me now. I don't even know why."

"Because they can." Rick replied honestly. He handed the shotgun to Guillermo, and began to sort the guns from the bag. 

Iris turned from the room, walking back out into the auditorium. The vatos kept an eye on her, but she walked over to the closest.

"Hey, Felipe?" She asked. He turned from the table of elderly people, frowning at her sudden appearance. Iris took a map from her coat pocket and a pencil from an abandoned crossword puzzle, circling a place on the map. "I don't know who's in charge of the runs, but just outside the city here, there's an auto shop. If you can make it, there's a van out back full of parts, more cars in the shop. Take whatever you need. No one's gonna come back for it."

"Why?" He asked, taking the map and frowning. Iris shrugged, trying to offer him a comforting smile.

"Gesture of good faith?"

[springbudeyes]

Please enjoy the first installment of a new series I'd like to call Gamemode 0!

If you're waiting for Mianite Season Four (ha), this will hopefully tide you over. Gamemode 0 is a highly produced mini-series that tells a story through text, dramatic audio narration, a musical score, and images. It stars a villain who was an edgy Grim Reaper in 2015 and it poses the question—how much has Kikoku Botan really changed since 2015?

That question will be answered over the course of – I'm guessing – seven-ish chapters? The first chapter, which you're about to read and hear, is based on a Minecraft RP session held in a single night. Those present for the session include World Historian's original writer (me) and a group of talented role-players. More info under the cut!

Here's the cast:

Moth @robotmothpie as Ginkgo Belshem

CloudF11 @silent-moons-camp as Cloud Endernatus

Metal @mx-metal as Omu Vulcan

Honor @cult-of-athar as Fateshaper (the Big Bad)

Matthew (me) as World Historian

(All characters are voiced by me.)

Background:

The project was Mianite Etherealis. We played on a private 1.12 server for two years, ending in early 2023. The chapter you're about to read (titled Session One) covers the RP session that brought World Historian into the narrative.

I would almost go so far as to say that you're about to experience a canon World Historian mini-series with implications for all World Historian content in existence.

Is it actually canon? I don't know. It's as authentic as you'll ever get for WH, that's for sure. I've spent the last nine years developing the cosmology being used here. I planted the seeds for it when I created World Historian in 2015.

But no, Gamemode 0 isn't Dec-and-Tom-approved canon. And my astounding co-writers aren't offical Mianite writers. And Etherealis isn't a piece of lost Mianite media, though you can think of it that way if you'd like.

Vision:

Gamemode 0 will follow the plot of Mianite Etherealis for one more session, then embark on its own original plot centered on World Historian.

That being said, my aim with Gamemode 0 is to dig up a piece of the past and link it to the future. This series is one of many projects that could result from that effort. If it sees enough support, it could grow beyond text, images, and audio. We have endless headroom here.

If you're looking for Botan's history in Ruxomar, you'll find it. If you're hoping for a glimpse into Akemi and Mina's lives, you'll get it. If you seek all manner of strange World Historian lore, consider it yours. If you just wanna sink your teeth into a juicy hunk of Mianite meat, go get a napkin, you menace.

We have plenty of chapters to take us from the past, to the future, and back again. I could just list the plain facts about World Historian in a lore post, but I could never be satisfied with that. I'm a storyteller.

Disclaimer:

The players own their characters. Most of the dialogue and actions in Session One come straight from the corresponding RP session. I'm just putting it all to a narrative and making readability tweaks for first-timers.

Shout-outs:

Happy birthday yesterday, Honor! We love you!! I guess this is one of your presents. Thanks for letting World Historian take over as the big scary dude for a session. And sorry for writing out our best boy, Oleander. We should co-write something someday.

Cloud, thanks for going back to our defunct Minecraft world to set everything up and take the awesome shadered screenshots for Session One. Also thanks for making c!Cloud such a great POV character. He carries Gamemode 0.

Thank you, Moth, for the un-shadered screenies, for being my PR person, and for supporting me generally all the time. PDA PDA aaaaa!

And thanks, Metal, for being the cool one. B)

Calls to action:

Mianitees, shower love upon my friends. I know Moth and Cloud would jump at the opportunity to answer asks about their passionately crafted OCs. And so would Honor and Metal, I suspect. With the right motivation, who knows what they could create?

The link will send you to my Substack blog, where you'll be able to read, listen, like, and subscribe to my newsletter. The paid subscription has no advantage over the free one; most of you will pick free, but if anyone would like to support me financially, that would be super appreciated. (If we get some traction with subs, I'll set up sub goals and a budget for upgrades to my production.) I plan to release Gamemode 0 chapters as frequently as I can, but I will post something to my Substack every month—Mianite related or not.

Also please like and reblog this Tumblr post if you dig it and want to see more.

Now go and enjoy your food.

[starcrossedxwriter]

Built for Love Part 8 (MBJ x Famous Black OC)

A/N: Ummm this chapter has a little bit of everything... Family, fluff, a bit of smut, slight angst. It also has a time jump because we gotta keep shit movingggg. And I could write 100 chapters of fluff with these two butttt we're here for the drama! lol Also another gif that has nothing to do with anything LOL But I imagine this is what our girl wakes up to every day and I love that for her

Warnings: brief mentions of DV

“So Charlie, are you excited to be back on the stage?” Michael’s mom asked as they settled around Michael’s dining room table for dinner.

Though it was a small affair, the table was weighed down by Donna’s decadent and delicious cooking, his mom cooking both he and Charlotte’s favorites for their goodbye dinner. Once his father had said grace, initial conversations had given way to the sounds of forks and spoons clinking against china as everyone passed dishes and savored Donna’s cooking. Though Michael’s family was used to it, Charlotte’s were too busy stuffing their faces to be much conversationalists.  

Her face had been drawn up in a bright smile since her brother, Lauren, and Jazz arrived. The tone around the table was a bittersweet one, joy for Charlotte and this opportunity everyone knew she deserved and needed, but melancholy at having two staples of their respective communities gone, even if it was only a temporary absence. 

Between the press tour and preparing to leave, the time had flown by and the move that once seemed so far away was hurtling toward them like a high speed train. Charlotte still found herself shocked that Michael was willing to move with her. As the date inched closer and closer, she half expected him to find an excuse not to accompany her. But that never materialized. Instead, he took it upon himself to do all of the planning. Time to find an apartment? Already done and vetted by Michael. Furnish the place? Interior decorator was already on it with images of both of their homes to capture their respective styles. All day, every day, he sent her restaurants and places he wanted to try, some Charlotte had been to and some she hadn’t, or asked her about her favorite spots to add to the list. His excitement was contagious, which counteracted the stress, dread, and anxiety Charlotte felt. For him, this was just the first of many adventures with the woman he loved. For her, it was returning home after running away. And that was never easy.   

“Yea I really am. It’ll be an adjustment for sure. Next two months’ll be crazy. But I… really missed it. I’m coming in a few weeks behind in rehearsals but it’ll be good to be back.” 

Michael’s hand, which had rested on her thigh since they sat down, squeezed gently to reassure her, soothing her anxiety. 

“Only on the choreo. This girl could perform the show and songs forward and backwards right now if she wanted.” 

Charlotte smiled. “He might be right about that. But the choreo is the harder part for me anyway.” 

“Yea the girl was born with every talent but rhythm,” Jackson called down the table causing everyone to laugh, Charlotte leaning behind Michael’s chair to flip him off without everyone seeing. 

“He never gives her credit. Charlie is a great dancer,” Lauren chimed in, not allowing her husband to joke at her best friend’s expense. “Remember the spring production of Oklahoma our freshman year??” 

Charlotte groaned. “Ugh don’t remind me! Some of the worst weeks of my life.”

“What happened?” Michael asked. 

“There was a nasty norovirus going around campus and Charlie, one of the only freshmen in Juilliard history to play the coveted lead of a spring production, caught it the second day of rehearsals. Was out for two weeks. The director planned on bumping up her understudy.” 

“A senior who despised me and was probably hoping the virus would kill me,” she laughed. “Director said there was noooooo way I could learn the staging and choreo in the two remaining weeks before opening night,” Charlotte interjected, rolling her eyes. “He was just worried he took a chance on a freshman only for her to crash and burn.” 

“Since I was dancing in the production, I could record rehearsals. Charlotte watched every rehearsal, learning every move, lyric, and note while she was sick. Sis showed up once she was cleared by the doctor and you wouldn’t have even known she missed two weeks of rehearsals. She looked and sounded better than some folks who’d been to every rehearsal.”

“Messed up one or two steps,” she admitted. “But nothing that couldn’t be fixed in the time we had left.”

“How’d you manage that?” 

She shrugged. “I just rehearsed and slept in between trips to the bathroom,” she laughed. “My doctor thought I was completely insane but as they say, ‘the show must go on.’” 

“Will you have enough tickets for us all to come to opening night or do we need to come at a different time?” Jackson asked.

“I definitely can get everyone tickets for previews, those start mid February. Not sure how many I can snag for opening night though.” 

“What are previews?” Michael’s dad asked. 

“Oh, sort of a test run? Just an opportunity to perform the show to audiences before the official opening night. Gives you a chance to work out issues and fix things before critics review it. The show ran off-Broadway first so our previews are only a couple weeks. So we have a month and a half of true rehearsals and then previews and then the show premieres March 1.” 

“And how long are you all gonna be there again?” 

“In total? 8 months I guess with rehearsals? I only signed on to be on the cast for six months though… March to September.” 

“Knowing you, you’ll extend it,” Jackson offered with a knowing smile.

Charlotte shook her head. “I dunno. Chris would love that. But doing 8 shows a week for six months is a lot. And gets old after a while,” she admitted. “Maybe I’d do a different show, but I'll probably come back here. I promised Chris six months so that’s all I’m committing to.” 

Everyone nodded in understanding, the conversation drifting away from Charlie and to separate topics. Charlie glanced around the table, a soft content smile on her face as she watched the two groups interact. It was not just each family chatting off to themselves. Lauren and Michael’s mom and sister were deep in a conversation about the struggles of parenting young children; Michael’s brother and Jackson were arguing about the Lakers vs the Clippers; and Jazz and Michael were deeply enthralled in a story told by Michael Sr. And everyone seemed genuinely happy to be there and interact. This was their first time truly combining the groups but she thought it boded well for when they all met the rest of her immediate family on the East Coast. If Jazz, Lauren, and Jackson liked them and fit in, the rest of her family would too. 

As dinner winded down, Charlotte stood up from the table to bring out dessert. Michael offered a soft peck to the inside of her wrist, which she returned with one to the top of his head, before she grabbed his plate to take into the kitchen. She hummed to herself as she loaded the dishwasher and pulled out the cake his mom prepared earlier that day. It was Michael’s favorite, her rum cake. Charlie could not deny it was one of the best cakes she had ever tasted, hers included. 

As she moved the cake to the island, she lost her balance on her heels, almost falling. She was able to sit the cake down quickly, it wobbled slightly in its glass case but remained unharmed despite her clumsiness. 

“There you go, tripping over air,” she cursed herself, annoyed and thankful she had not destroyed his mother’s cake. As she moved the holder on the island, a wave of deja vu hit her, a vision of a cake and cake holder smashing to the ground filling her brain. She paused, studying the glass cake stand, her stiletto-shaped nails gliding over it gently. Just as quickly as it appeared, it vanished, the memory too foggy and distant to make sense of. During most of her deja-vu moments or flashbacks, the memories hit her like she was being forced in front of a movie screen. But as much as she racked her brain, she couldn't think of anything related to this moment.

“You ok, dear?” Donna’s soft voice interrupted Charlotte as she zoomed through the Rolodex of memories in her mind.

“Hm? Oh yea, I’m ok,” Charlotte answered, glancing up. she noticed the plates in the woman’s hands before abandoning her thoughts and grabbing them from her. “Let me get those.” 

“Thank you, dear. Your family is lovely. They fit right in,” Donna offered as she moved to grab a knife and small plates for dessert. 

Charlotte smiled, “Thanks. I’m excited for all of you to meet the rest of them. Everyone else is fairly tame in comparison,” she joked. 

As she loaded their dishwasher, she glanced at his mom. 

“This was all delicious, thank you. Thank God he picked up your cooking skills or else we’d starve in New York.”

The older woman laughed. “Well anytime you want to learn, you let me know. Though I think you’d give me a run for my money with those desserts of yours.” 

Charlotte could not help but beam a bit at her compliment. 

Charlotte dried her hands on a dish towel, anxiously twisting the soft fabric in her hands and chewing on her lip as she watched his mom. 

“I hope you don’t mind…” she started, pausing as the older woman looked at her with confusion. “M-Me stealing him away for a while. I’m honestly still a bit surprised he wanted to do this at all. But I know it’s probably hard when he’s gone for a long time. I feel kinda bad?” She admitted quietly. “I know he’s gonna miss you guys so much.” She stared at the wall that blocked Michael and everyone at the table from their vision, her face falling a bit as she felt the guilt of pulling him away from his family and community in LA. Even though he offered, she could not help but question whether she should have accepted it, accepted taking him away from his family like this.

“If I may?” Donna’s hands wrapped around Charlotte’s, halting her anxious movements and towel twisting. “I know it hasn’t been that long but I’ve never seen my son as happy as he is with you. One thing you should never doubt is how much that man in there adores you. I dare say he would try to move a mountain if he thought it’d bring you joy. You should never feel bad for accepting the manifestations of his love and commitment. Because I dare say, this is just the beginning.”  

Charlotte felt a tear start to fall, not from sadness but from the love, grace, and compassion his mother always showed her. From the moment they first met to today, she never acted like those dreaded mother-in-laws her married friends moaned about. Charlotte’s mother would not be considered a constant presence in her life, a rarity at best. And through everything she had been through, the one thing she had always hoped for but never had was a mom. Michael’s mom did not know about her mom’s absence but she seemed to recognize it was something Charlie still needed, a mother’s love, support, grace, and word of wisdom. And she offered it in droves. 

“T-thank you,” she whispered, whisking the tears away just as Michael rounded the corner to check on them. 

“Hey, you two alright?” 

“Yes of course, baby.” Her face immediately brightened as he entered the room, not even just to hide her and his mom’s emotional moment but just from his presence. “Just hounding your mom for this amazing rum cake recipe so I can make it for you in New York…” 

“But… I told her she’s gotta be officially in the family first for me to share it. So get to it,” she whispered to Bakari with a sly smile and a peck on the cheek as she returned to the dining room with the rest of the family. 

“Damn, she’s not subtle at all, is she?” he asked as he grabbed the cake while Charlotte grabbed the plates his mom pulled out. 

Charlotte laughed, patting him on the chest as she passed him to return to the dining room. “No, definitely not.”

***

Their moans created an orchestra filling his bedroom as Michael kept Charlotte’s eyes trained on his as he fucked her slow and deep. 

They rarely had sex in missionary these days, both of them finding other positions far more interesting and fun. However, when they were both in the mood for something slower and more sensual, missionary hit the spot for both of them. It offered them something deeper than pure pleasure. It was an intimacy and comfort they both needed for their last night in Michael’s bed for a while. 

Looking into each other’s eyes was a meeting of the minds, beyond merely connecting with their bodies, they connected with their souls. They saw all of each other, all of the excitement, anxiety, joy, and fear of what tomorrow would hold for them. And every moment, every movement and touch between them was an effort to honor those feelings. Every touch and whispered adoration told the other that they were here and they were ready for everything the universe had in store for them. 

There would be time for fast and wild later. Tonight, they were just cherishing the moment and each other before their first real adventure as a couple began. 

“J-Just li-like that. F-Fuck, I-I love you,” she moaned, having already lost count of her orgasms as Michael pushed her to the edge of another one. 

She could tell he was close as he picked up the pace a bit. Her hips rocked slightly to meet his, her core pulsing and tightening around him causing a primitive moan to escape him. 

It only took a moment for him to fill her before he rolled off of her. 

“You good?” He asked, a question he usually asked when they finished up, whether the session was slow and sensual or had her doing acrobatics. And the answer was always in the same vein: she was more than good.

“Excellent. I could fall asleep j-just like this,” she yawned, knowing that her sleep after sex was always elite, Michael tiring her out to the point where she could not do much else. However, before she did, she got up to go to the bathroom, Michael talking to her as she groped her way through the darkness of his room. 

“You ready for tomorrow?” He asked as he found his briefs to slide on and climb back into bed. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess,” she called back. “You sure you still wanna come? Not too late to back out. Well, we signed a lease, on a way too expensive apartment, I might add… so it’s a bit late. But you could still do it.” 

Though her tone had the intent of a joke, Michael could still hear it, her hesitation and fear that let him know she was still concerned he would abandon her. He knew she would not truly believe him until they were moved in and settled but he was genuinely excited to go with her. Not just to support her and provide her with some sense of safety while she was there, but to witness this next stage in her career. This was her dream and he saw no better use of his time than watching her fulfill it. He knew why she was hesitant, they had only been dating for mere months. However, when he looked at Charlotte, he saw a perfect glittering gold path to a future he had never given much thought to because he had always been too focused on the hustle, a marriage and a family like the one his parents had built. To him, this was one step down that path and he would never regret taking it. Part of him was annoyed he would have to return to LA in June for another project before her time in New York ended but he decided he would savor the initial six months of uninterrupted time together. 

“You ain’t gettin’ rid of me that easy, honey bee. And after living with me in New York, maybe that’ll convince you to move in with me when we get back?” He asked as she washed her hands. 

She poked her head out into the room to look at him, finding that his face matched the seriousness of his tone and words.

“What? Y-You want me to move in? Here?” 

He continued to surprise her with his level of commitment and dedication overall. However, just as she was about to doubt he truly meant it, his mother’s words floated back to her mind. 

"Well, it wouldn't be here forever. Just till we found a new spot… something that's ours," he emphasized. “We’re gonna live together for at least 6 months in New York… if it works out and you don’t absolutely hate me by the end,” he joked, “Why not? What? You don’t think we should?"

She shrugged as she climbed back into his bed. “No, no, I’m not saying that at all. I mean I basically live here as it is,” she admitted. “I g-guess I just didn’t think about what living together in New York would mean for when we got back? Of course, you thought of it though. You think ahead and have a plan for everything.” 

Michael was glad she could not see his face as she settled against his chest. She truly had no idea how far ahead his planning went when it came to her. 

“Well, I just know what I want and I don’t believe in wasting time. But I’m not sayin’ you gotta decide now or anything. Let’s see how New York goes. I just wanted to see if you’d be interested in it.” 

“Yea, I’m interested.”

He nodded. “Now are you gonna tell me what you and my momma were talking about earlier? You looked upset?” 

Charlotte chuckled, she turned over so her chest was against his, her ear pressed against his chest. The light thumps of his heart filled her ear like a soothing drumbeat. “I should’ve known you weren’t gonna let that go… I wasn’t upset. She j-just said something I needed to hear.” 

She felt his lips press against the top of her head, her eyes falling closed for a moment. She appreciated that he did not press any further for information. 

“Yea, I don't know how she does that. It's kinda creepy, honestly… that mother's intuition."

“Yea, its like she sees into your soul or something." Her last words turned into a mumble as she yawned and her eyes fell closed.

All Michael could do was chuckle before kissing her forehead and falling asleep himself, her gentle snores filling his ears.

***

Charlotte glanced out of the floor-to-ceiling window of their new apartment on the edge of the Upper West Side. It was as beautiful and pristine as the pictures Michael had shown her. They were high enough to have a great view of the city from their balcony. It was in the perfect location too for work and there was so much around for her and Michael to do. The furnishings were perfect, the exact mix of her and Michael’s individual interior style. She knew he hired a designer but it was clear the person knew their shit. The house already felt warm, cozy, and safe, all the things Charlotte needed, and they had only been in it for an hour.

“What are you thinking?” He asked from the couch as he scrolled through his phone, both of them avoiding the dreaded unpacking they had to do. 

“I’m thinking about my crappy little studio apartment when I first graduated… and my two bedroom with one of my college friends for those few months…” she paused, that apartment was a graveyard of bad memories. “Before I moved. I’ve j-just come up in the world, I guess.” 

Bakari beckoned her to him, the young woman leaving her perch against the window to join him. The moment she was in arm’s length, he gently pulled her down onto his lap, Charlotte nestling into him with ease. 

“This place is insane, Bakari. I mean I love it but I still think it’s too much,” she remarked, she raised her hands as if to surrender, knowing she was bringing up a touchy subject for them both. 

“Aht aht. We came to an agreement on that,” he lightly kissed her bare shoulder. 

She nodded, neither of them wanting to fall back into their first true argument of their relationship a few months earlier. 

“So what do you think?” 

Charlotte laughed. “I think I could fit 5 or 6 of my first apartment in that place,” she gestured toward his laptop as he flipped through photos of a high-rise three-bedroom apartment. “I mean it’s gorgeous but I don’t think I can afford it.” 

“Yea but I can. It’s perfect. Really solid security, there’s only one apartment on each floor so it’s pretty private. And it's only 15 minutes from the theaters so when you finish up evening shows, it’s not a long drive. It’s perfect for us. Don’t think about the cost. Do you like it?” 

“Yes, I love it but,” she chuckled. “Creed was my first real check in two years, babe. And I still gotta pay for my apartment here. I don’t really have the luxury of not thinking about the cost of things.” 

“Ok but I’m sayin’ you don’t have to think about it cause I got it.” 

“Well how much do you want me to contribute a month? If we go 50/50, it would be tight but I could swing it then, I guess.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “ I wasn’t expecting you to contribute anything. We ain’t roommates, Els.”  

She shook her head, pushing off of the couch to pace in his living room, her annoyance officially rising. Finances continued to be a touchy subject for the pair. However, usually, Charlotte only put up so much of a fight before she gave in. But she could not give in on this, not today. 

“It’s one thing for you to always pay for dinners and shit like that but you can’t pay all of our rent while we’re there. That’s ridiculous.” 

“Why can’t I?” He asked, his tone signaling that he did not understand the seriousness of the conversation for Charlotte in the slightest. He still did not quite understand her hang up with finances. He knew it was part of the cycle of abuse but he had no problem spending money on her if need be. She had only just stopped fighting him on paying for dates. Though he was not the type of celebrity who blew all of his money on frivolous things, Michael also did not pretend money was a significant consideration in his decisions because it just wasn’t. And he would never apologize for wanting to spend his money on her, for wanting to support her. 

“B-Because I…” Charlotte stopped herself from finishing the sentence, Don’t want you to be able to control me that way. But she knew that was not his way.“T-then it’s y-your house a-and not mine. I-I would just feel more comfortable i-if you let me contribute something. L-Let me pay for half? Besides, you’re gonna be in LA sometimes, full time in the summer. You shouldn’t pay the full amount every month like you’re gonna be there the whole time.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, Charlotte. I don’t need your money and I don’t want it.” His tone signaled that he hoped to get the final word in and end the discussion.

She could not help but feel frustrated like he was not hearing her. But she understood why he did not see this situation through her eyes. “I-It’s not about you n-needing it!” She cried out, Michael suddenly realizing her unexpected outburst meant more simmered beneath the surface than her just wanting to contribute. She took a deep breath, not wanting to start an argument with him. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. It’s just…” 

He rubbed her shoulders and nodded, “Ok just breath for a second, babe. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it would bother you this much. I just.. I wanted you to have a serene, safe place to live and work while you’re there a-and I wasn’t gonna ask you to pay because money wasn’t a factor when I chose it. I just want you to be comfortable while we’re there.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. She knew she shouldn’t push him on the finances piece so much. But she refused to ever let a man hold her livelihood over her head again. Where she laid her head was important and even though she stayed at Michael’s most of the time, she could at least retreat to her home if she ever needed it. She did not want the only place she had to lay her head to be not in her control at all. 

“Look, I-I appreciate it. That place is beautiful a-and perfect. I love it, truly. But… t-this is the first time I’m living with a guy since Shaun a-and the a-amount of times he held t-the fact that it w-was his h-house instead of mine o-over me…” she exhaled deeply as if she could release the memories into the air with her breath. “I-If I d-don’t contribute something then it’ll be your house and not ours. I k-know you don’t need it o-or want it. But I need it. I need it to feel like I have an equal claim to it. Please.”

At that, Michael decided not to push any further. He understood her triggers were real and legitimate and if it gave her a sense of autonomy and control to pay him, he would not let his ego get in the way of that. 

“Understood. I’m sorry,” he kissed her cheek. “I didn’t think about that. This’ll be our home and I want you to feel like it. How about you deal with all the utilities and I get the rent?”

She could not help but laugh a bit at his “compromise.” “Those things aren’t comparable at all, babe,” she muttered. 

“Monetarily? Nah. But what’s the point of an apartment without lights, wifi, gas, water?” he listed. “All of those are necessities too and without them, this would be a pretty terrible apartment.” 

They squared off for a moment before she nodded, realizing he budged about as far as he was willing to on the subject. 

“Deal.” 

“Deal.” 

“We came to an agreement, yes. But don’t think for a second I like it. Anytime you wanna accept that 50/50 split, let me know.” 

Michael gave her a peck on the nose. 

“Not gonna happen. Let me treat you to this one thing, baby. But what could happen is us christening some of this furniture?” His eyebrow raised suggestively, his intentions clear in his words. 

Charlotte smiled slyly. “I like the sound of that… if we start with the counter.” 

***

“Charlotte. Baby. Stop eating your breakfast like it’s a drive by. Sit, relax, and eat. You got plenty of time. Don’t have to be there for another hour.” 

Charlotte nearly catapulted out of bed that morning, a wrecking ball of nervous energy flitting around their apartment. Michael did not know how she was moving so quickly and chaotically, since all she did was toss and turn the night before. And as soon as the Sun was up, she was out of bed and out on a run through the neighborhood. And when she returned, their bed quickly turned into a wreckage of clothes, the young woman changing her outfit no less than 10 times. 

“Did you get any sleep last night?” Michael asked as Charlotte forced herself to sit at the island and eat Michael’s apple cinnamon pancakes, her favorite, and a couple pieces of bacon. Though this was her favorite breakfast meal, she found it difficult to eat, believing her time would be better served practicing or running her lines again rather than just sitting there. 

She scratched her head as she stuffed her face quickly, her eyes zooming across her sheet music. “Couple hours. Lots of tossing and turning before I just gave up and reviewed the music again.” 

Michael laughed, “You know every song by heart, even the ones that aren’t yours. You’re gonna be great today.”

She shrugged. “I don’t feel like it.” She glanced at her watch and bit her lip before abandoning her half eaten breakfast. “Thanks for this, Bakari, but I think I should go practice the songs one more time. The run in the Act I closer is fuckin’ killing me. I can’t get it just right a-and if Chris has us practice that part today, I don’t want to look stupid.” She paused her ranting to practice the chorus and run right there as she paced by the counter. She sounded flawless in Michael’s opinion but he could tell she hated it the way her whole face scrunched up in frustration. “See? Can’t get it. But you know… maybe I should practice my ballad first though… it would make sense he’d want to start there since it’s earlier in the show. Do I have time to do both…” She was no longer talking to Michael, only rambling and muttering to herself as her questions about which song to use her precious last few minutes to practice started to become inter spliced with actual lyrics from the songs as she studied the music while she walked through their home. “Babe! Have you seen my script?? Maybe I should  run through all my lines for Act 1?” She checked her watch. “I s-should’ve used the time last night to do that. UGH.”  

Her incoherent stream of consciousness and half singing were interrupted by Michael who put himself in the path of Hurricane Charlotte and their bedroom. Her favorite room to practice in was the bathroom because the acoustics were the best in the house. Imagine his confusion and slight amusement when, the first thing she did when they arrived after throwing her bags down, she started singing her ballad in every single room to test the sound quality before deciding the bathroom was the best option. 

It had not been 24 hours yet and he already learned one critical thing about her: she was a perfectionist chaotic nutcase. He had never seen this “behind the scenes” look into her process and work ethic. When they worked on Creed, she showed up to set every day the picture of an actor, in the zone, focused, and ready to work. He had never seen what it took to get to that picture and it was a perfect frenzy that he could not hope to understand or follow if he tried. 

And still, he found that her perfectionist nature that drove all the practice and ramblings only made him fall deeper in love with her. He imagined this is what he looked like to his friends and family when he was prepping for a role, so much energy and time spent to become someone else and embody their souls and personas. So much attention to detail and time rehearsing to give each moment in front of the camera your all. This was so much like that, and yet so much harder because Charlotte could not just yell cut to redo something. Every night she got on that stage, she had one opportunity to show her talent at its fullest. He could completely understand why she pushed herself as hard as she did. 

“Honeybee… you gotta calm down. No more practicing,” he grabbed the sheet music out of her hand, Charlotte offering mild protests as he walked to her bag and slid them inside, secretly adding a little card of his own. “You still have weeks of rehearsals. Keep doing this and you’ll lose your voice,” he warned, his lips twitching from the laugh he forced himself to stifle at the look of objective horror on her face, as if she had never even considered that was a possibility. But he imagined for her, losing her voice was the worst type of illness she could have. “Exactly. Rest the vocals for a bit. Sit, finish your breakfast and we’ll drive to the theater together.” 

With his hands on her hips, he steered her back to the island for the third time that morning and watched her sit down to resume eating, this time far slower and more measured. 

“You don’t gotta take me like a child headed to kindergarten for the first day, dad,” she bemused with a soft smile. “I’ll be good.” 

“I know I don’t have to, but I want to.” 

She nodded, talk of Michael’s plans for the day filled the rest of breakfast before she grabbed her bag, filled with her script, sheet music, and mid-day snack. Michael had to stop her from triple checking her bag before he slid a perfectly made chai in her hands and ushered her out the door. 

He kept his hand on hers as their driver took them the short ride to Abernathy Theater. She had not told Michael but she had performed in this very theater in her very first Broadway production out of college. It felt like a full circle moment to be back there. 

“Ok, this is it, babe. You got this,” he kissed her on the lips. “Can’t wait to hear all about it tonight.” 

“Thanks, love. See you tonight.” She took a deep breath before gathering her things and exiting the car. 

Charlotte glanced back at the black car before she opened the theater door, the window rolled down, to find Michael giving her a thumbs up as if he knew she would need an extra push to walk through the door. She knew her nerves were somewhat foolish. She had spent the better part of her life in theaters and on the stage. And yet, she still felt like a fish outta water. So much time had passed, so much life had happened. Chris thought she still had what it took but would everyone else? She had given up this dream. And though she had never admitted this out loud, she felt so much shame for how easily she had casted it aside and resigned to leaving it to die behind her. As she walked through the theater, her first time in one in over two years, she questioned whether she even deserved this second chance at it after she had squandered the first one, regardless of her reasoning for doing so. 

But now as she walked through the theater, taking in the opulence of the insanely tall ceilings and their perfectly preserved murals, the dazzling gold arches and trims, and the sea of ruby-colored seats, she knew one fact to be true. No one and nothing would tear her away from this dream this time. She had breathed new life into it and she would not lose it again.

“Charlotte!” 

Her visual survey was interrupted by Chris who waved at her from the stage. She smiled and made quick work of making her way to the stage where he waited.

“It’s so good to see you,” he mused, pulling her into a tight hug. “The rest of the cast is trickling in. But I wanted to show you around personally and introduce you to everyone. I’ll take you backstage.”  

He looped his arm around hers and led her backstage, the two laughing and chatting like old friends as he took her around and introduced her to everyone. He was showing her her dressing room when a familiar man’s voice filled her ears. 

“The prodigal daughter of Broadway returns… You know I took bets on when you’d be back.” 

Charlotte whipped around to find Malcolm Roberts, one of her costars, leaning against the doorway, his usual sly smirk etched on his face. 

She sauntered up to him, a similar smirk falling on her face. “And? Is the Tony award winning Malcolm Roberts poorer or richer these days?” 

“Richer…” At her surprised expression, he shrugged. “I learned a long time ago to always bet on you.” 

She laughed and immediately pulled him into a tight hug, the man lifting her feet slightly off the ground. 

“It’s so good to see you. I owe you dinner so you can catch me up on everything,” he said as they hugged. “You look amazing, still as gorgeous as ever.”  

Malcolm had been in her last production before she moved. She followed his career after leaving theater and his star had only risen higher and higher, as he deserved. And now, he would be playing directly alongside her and she couldn’t have been more pleased. If there was one person she trusted undoubtedly to act alongside, besides Michael, it would be Malcolm. 

“Thank you! Should’ve known Chris would call in the heavyweight champ,” she laughed. 

He merely shrugged. “A friend calls and I answer. That's how he got you outta hibernation too?” He asked as they walked to the practice room for rehearsal, their banter drowned out by the hustle and bustle of the team as they worked to build the set and gathered props around them. 

 “Naturally. One day you’ll have to tell us how you convince everyone to do whatever you want?” Charlotte told Chris who merely smiled slyly. 

“Win me another Tony and I’ll tell all my secrets.” 

The two actors glanced at each other and rolled their eyes. “As if you need anymore!” 

“Does your house even have room for another one and that big head of yours?” Malcolm teased as Charlotte snorted. 

“Well, my partner says I can’t convert the kids’ room to a trophy room. So I guess when you two are done sweeping, I’ll have to buy a new house.” He winked at the both of them before grabbing his assistant director to chat, leaving Malcolm and Charlotte alone. 

“How was the move?” He asked as he interlaced his arm with Charlotte’s as they walked. 

“Oh totally fine. Michael took care of everything, of course. All I did was say yes or no.” 

“Ah yes, the new boyfriend, aka my wife and sister’s celebrity crush. Remind me never to invite the two of you over for dinner?” Charlotte let out a deep belly laugh. “But I’m glad to hear it. Looks like you found yourself a good one?” 

“Yea… I think I did.” 

She raised her eyebrow as he stopped walking to study her for a moment, his face drawn up in a look of pride and something else she could not place. Understanding? Knowing? She could not read it. However, before she could ask him, he merely patted her hand, which rested on his arm and said, “Well no one deserves that more than you.” 

Before she could inquire more, they arrived at their rehearsal space, each of them settling into their spots. Chris did quick work of introducing Charlotte to everyone else who she hadn’t met and embarrassing her with his praise. She was thankful when it was all over and everyone started to pull out their scripts and sheet music to run through Act I. 

As she pulled out her materials, a small card fell out of the stack and onto the table. She picked it up and examined the card, Honey Bee written out on the front in Michael’s handwriting. She half listened to Chris share notes and information from the last rehearsal as she slid the stationary out of its envelope. 

I would say good luck but I know you don’t need it. You’re gonna kill it, as you always do, and remind everyone there today and in this world, who you are. Take a deep breath and remember you, not only deserve this moment but, you were made for it.

Love, 

Your biggest fan  

If she had not been in a room filled with people, she would have bursted into tears. She slid the note back in her bag after reading it once more and taking the deep breath he instructed her to. She grabbed her phone as the cast started the table read and sent a quick but simple text. 

Thank you ♥️♥️

She knew she did not need to elaborate and that he would recognize the meaning. Not a whole minute passed before her phone buzzed with a similar simplistic response. 

Anytime. 

***

A month later

“Oof, that’s it. That’s the right spot,” Charlotte moaned as Michael massaged her aching limbs. “You got the magic touch, baby.” Her eyes lulled closed as he did the Lord’s work, kneading and massaging the tense spots on her legs and back after another long day of rehearsals. "First show is in two days and I can barely feel my legs.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” He placed a soft kiss to the top of her spine before continuing his work. 

Though Charlotte did not mind the quiet, the silence that settled over them both as he worked, she found it odd. Most evenings, she and Michael never stopped talking, the pair catching the other up on any and everything from the moment she walked into the door until the moment they fell asleep. However, today, Michael’s head seemed to be elsewhere. 

“You ok?” She inquired. 

“Y-Yea, yea. I’m good.” 

She laughed. “I know you well enough to know when you’re good, Bakari. What’s wrong?” She gestured for him to move so she could sit up. She slid her robe over her nude body and slid into his lap.

“I just had an interesting call with Ryan today.” 

“Oh? Got another project for you?” 

“Actually, yea.” 

She motioned for more details, unsure why he was being so coy and secretive. “Ok… you gotta give me more than that, babe. What’s the role? And why are you acting like he threatened to kill you?” 

“It’s a Marvel project.” 

Her eyes immediately grew wide. She gracefully tumbled out of his lap and onto her knees, excitement filling her previously lethargic body. While she had only just started to get into anime thanks to Michael, both of them bonded over their love for comics. Growing up with her brother, she and Jackson spent far too much time in the comic book store and she made a point to see every Marvel movie that came out. 

“It’s Black Panther, isn’t it??” She squealed, her excitement radiating off of her. 

“How’d you guess that so fast??” 

She scoffed and smiled. “Marvel’s been talking to Black directors for months for that project. A-and Civil War is coming out soon with Chadwick. Ohh,” she shook his shoulders. “You HAVE to do it, baby.” 

He laughed, getting up to go into their in-suite bathroom. “You don’t even know what the role is, love.” 

She shrugged, following behind him with an extra pep in her step. She did not understand how he wasn’t more excited about this. 

“I mean I could sit here and go through all the Black Panther comic lore if you’d like and guess. But that’ll just make you horny,” she teased, knowing Michael got a little too excited when she put on her nerdy hat and talked comics. “And my legs hurt too much for acrobatics with you today. Why aren’t you excited? You said yes, right?? He wouldn’t’ve called unless the role was yours.” 

He pushed himself up to sit on the bathroom counter. “I want to say yes, the role is fantastic a-and his vision is spectacular. I s-spent the whole day reading up on the character and everything. It would be a game changer for sure.” 

“Of course it would. But I sense a but coming?” Her hands inched up his warm bare chest and wrapped around his neck as she stood between his legs. 

“I’d have to go back to LA for a couple days to screen test with Chad and a couple of the other confirmed actors, meet with the execs… and between Kevin Feige’s schedule, Ryan’s and Chadwick’s… only one week before like June works for everyone.” 

At the annoyed and guilty look on his face, Charlotte immediately understood. “Opening weekend of the show?” She prayed she was wrong but at the small nod, she let out a disgruntled sigh. 

“Yea. A-and I don’t want to miss that, Els. It’s such a big deal and I moved here to be all in on us and support you. I asked Ryan if we could find a different date or if we could do something out here instead but I dunno yet. I didn’t want to mention it because I didn’t want to disappoint you if it’s not a sure thing.” 

“Babe. I so appreciate you and that you even thought to consider me and the show before saying yes. But you can’t put your career on hold for me. This is the MCU, babe, I would miss opening night of my own show for Kevin Feige. You have to go.”

Michael’s jaw almost unhinged at her statement. That was not what he was expecting at all. And when he searched her face for a hint of disappointment or sadness, he failed to find any. Her joy for him was natural and authentic, not the forced type people give when they are trying to hide their own emotions. 

“What??” 

“I’m joking,” she amended but she quickly shook her head. “Actually I’m not. I would totally ditch schmoozing investors and the nausea of waiting for reviews for Marvel,” she laughed. “Seriously though, I’m gonna be doing 8 shows a week for months. You’ll see me on stage so many times, you’ll get sick of my voice and the show. You don’t have to be there opening night to support me. Honestly, I’d rather have you there the first night of previews in a couple days so you can see me on stage for the first time anyway. Opening night is only a big deal in that critics can finally review the show. And there’s a party for the cast and producers and investors and all that shit. You moved across the country to support me. That’s all I need.”

She walked back into their bedroom and grabbed his phone, her slippers shuffling lightly against the floor as she went.. She held it out to him. “Call Ryan.” 

“Babe… I just don’t feel right abandoning you on such a big night.” 

She tilted her head to study him. She found that she was not just saying those words because she knew she should not stop him from pursuing an opportunity. She actually meant it. Now that she was back in the swing of things, her anxiety had eased quite a bit. It had only been a few weeks but she had not seen or heard a peep out of Shaun, her promo for the show being reduced to one mention in a Broadway.com article, thankfully. And she knew she would have to handle a few days here and there without him before they got there. It was still early so she was still beyond thankful to have him there, but she could survive a couple days without him if he was needed elsewhere.   

“You aren’t abandoning me. You’re following your dreams, you’re moving your career forward. Ryan picked you, the role is yours. Meeting with the execs and a couple screen tests are the only hurdles you gotta clear. And you shouldn't put that off. Would I love to look out into that crowd and see you opening night, sure. But would I prefer to see you snag a killer role in what is already a highly anticipated project, 100%. I know you’ll be there in spirit.”

“You sure you aren’t gonna secretly hate me?” 

“I could never hate you. Besides, shit like this is gonna happen… we’re both two busy body ass actors. We aren’t always gonna be able to be there physically but I know you’ll be cheering me on as I will for you.” 

His phone still hovered in her hand between them, Charlotte giving him an cocky grin before unlocking it and finding Ryan’s number for him. 

“You sure?” 

“I’m giving you the push you gave me. Call him and tell him he’s got his Killmonger. Hopefully he doesn’t bust your fuckin’ ear drums like Chris did mine.” 

His eyes grew wide. “How’d you do that shit?? I never even said his name.” 

She chuckled as she turned to walk back into their room, her shoulders shrugged. “It was a lucky guess… that you just confirmed,” she smirked at him. “Now…” she sexily allowed her robe to open and slide off her shoulders, the silk fabric pooling to the floor around her feet. “Don’t stay on the phone with him too long.”

He raised an eyebrow suggestively, his thumb hovering over the call button. “I thought you were too tired?” 

She shrugged. “Consider it the last bit of encouragement you need to make that call.” She winked at him before sauntering off to their bed, delighting in the way his eyes followed her perfect ass as she climbed onto their bed. 

***

“Well, I think that part could use a bit more emotion from both of us?” Charlotte remarked as she and Malcolm reviewed their notes from earlier in the day. 

The stage was filled with chaos as many in the company practiced off to one side while the staging and lighting folks tried to get everything ready for their last rehearsal before previews started the next evening. Rebecca and Jonathan, the supporting actors in the play, were tucked in a corner just like Malcolm and Charlotte reviewing their lines. 

“For sure. We shouldn’t hold back. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in years. All that pent up aggression and anger and hurt… it really should feel like something is simmering beneath the surface and then an explosion on stage before the number.” 

Before Charlotte could agree with him and practice a bit more, Chris’s voice grabbed their attention. 

“Heads up, everyone! So don’t hate me. But a lot of the investors can’t make previews tomorrow night but they want a peek before opening night so they asked if they could sit in on rehearsal after the producers’ meeting happening upstairs. Should be wrapping up in about 15 minutes. So we will have a small but mighty,” he emphasized, “Audience today. So everyone should give this their all and we’re gonna do it in our costumes. Go get changed. Sorry for the change of plans.”

Light mumbles and grumbles could be heard through the company as everyone filed back into their dressing rooms. Charlotte and Malcolm merely shared a smirk, the actor whispering to Charlotte, “The investors and producers say jump…” 

“And we say ‘how high?” she grimaced with an eye roll before shutting the door to her dressing room. This was the only part of her job she hated, schmoozing people whose only credentials for being there was the hefty check they wrote. Charlotte’s outfit was quick work, a simple dress, cardigan, and heels so it did not take long for her to change. 

She sang a few chords to herself, warming up her voice, while she waited for the backstage cue to return to the wings of the stage. When the lights flashed, she made her way to the wings, stopping by Malcolm who had his face drawn up in a grimace. She was thankful to find another actor who also hated the politics of it all. She followed his line of sight to the parted curtains, revealing center stage where Chris stood with a group of men in suits. They quickly reminded her of all of the men she met at Shaun's office parties and events, her distaste had not changed. Most of their backs were turned to them until Chris noticed the entire company was assembled and waiting and waved them over. 

“Let the jumping begin,” Malcolm moaned lightly as they all started walking toward the group of powerful and wealthy men. 

“And these are the stars of our show, Charlotte Bennett, Malcolm Roberts, Rebecca Sloan, and Jonathan Rivers,” Chris gestured toward all of them, the group turning around to greet them. 

However, the bright smile that Charlotte put on as she pulled on her dazzling actress persona immediately fell as her eyes locked with one of the men. Her movements halted, her entire body going cold and rigid as if someone had thrown a bucket of ice water on her. 

Everything around her went silent as if someone had pressed the mute button, she could not even hear her pounding heart in her ears. But she could feel it, beating against her rib cage as it threatened to burst out of her chest. She forgot where she was, who she was, as he offered her a menacing and knowing smirk. 

Instinctively, she took a step back, increasing the distance between them as the rest of the cast continued forward to introduce themselves. Only one person noticed her change in demeanor, her low, shallow breaths that were drowned out by pleasantries and greetings. 

Malcolm touched her shoulder, Charlotte almost jumping out of her skin with shock, finally taking her eyes off of a man she never expected to see here of all places, in her safe space. 

“You good? Look like you saw a ghost,” he chuckled nervously, though his eyes were filled with concern.

Her mouth felt bone dry, the words caught in her throat but she forced them out anyway. 

“No, no. Not a g-ghost. J-just…” she shook her head. “I… um, just need a minute? Tell C-Chris I’m r-running to the b-bathroom. N-not feeling great.” 

She turned and rushed out of the theater, her legs carrying her as fast as they could without breaking into an all out run until she found herself near a concession stand in the deserted lobby.  She needed as much distance as she could between herself and him. She stopped and leaned against the counter, her hand pressed into her chest as she tried to calm herself. She wondered if she would have rather seen an actual ghost. That would have been less terrifying than what awaited her back in that theater, a different monster haunting her from her past. 

Shaun Parker. 

Tag List: @certifiedlesbianbaddie @bangtanxmegan @reelwriter19 @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @hi888888sworld @msniaimani @destinio1 @lynaye1993 @chaoticevilbakugo @blackerthings @pipsqueak-98 @miyuhpapayuh

***

A/N: So good news… we got some fluff!! Bad news… some niggas we don't like have found their way back. Thanks for reading! *drops this off and runs away*

[hyperactivewhore]

Ok soooo I love your opinions on The Originals and I want it for something I'm writing 🫣

Basically, how u think klaus would act if he gets interested in a OC with severe mental illness?? Specifically in my case a schizophrenic

And this will be a insecurity of her in their relationship

Hey! So I believe it depends, truth be told.

As far as I remember, Klaus isn't one to mock someone because of their illness, but we're also talking about Klaus, so I can't be really sure. I don't remember if Klaus actually interacted with someone with a confirmed mental illness aside from Aurora, but we all know he isn't exactly sane anyway.

Of course, if his interest in your ooc is romantic he'll obviously be kind about it, as long as your relationship is klamille and klaurora coded and not klaroline coded, because the one time Caroline actually needed comfort from Klaus he basically told her to go to hell. I think he would try to be supportive, and would specifically learn things about your ooc and her illness to make her as comfortable as possible, to try to not trigger her, and similar.

If this is an insecurity of hers, that would only amplify. Klaus isn't an easy person to love, he's complicated and messy and he's constantly reminded of that by family and people close to him, so he'd jump at any opportunity he has to remind her of his love for her if that insecurity is affecting their relationship or is potentially reason for a break up. I personally believe Klaus would worship the ground his s/o walks on, we all saw how he treated Camille and Aurora when their relationship wasn't rocky.

But if they do happen to get into a nasty fight or a particularly bad breakup, I can see bring him up her illness as a way to "mock" her or to try to belittle her, he kinda did it to Aurora and we all know how hurtful Klaus can be anyway.

Thank you for asking, and for loving my opinions! It's truly sweet from you to say it. Writing ooc's with mental illness is a challenge and I hope nothing I said came out offensive, you all know it's never my intention.

[rosiegirlie]

Press Your Number: John Egan x OC

word count: 4.8k a/n: I couldn't resist trying my hand at a John Egan story even though I'm nervous about it lol. As will probably be my usual this isn’t as researched / historically accurate as it should be so sorry in advance. I'm really just going off the vibes tbh ! read on AO3

The sun was setting with only the smallest bit still hanging on above the tops of the surrounding trees. It would soon be too dark for Jacqueline to continue working but luckily she’d reached a comfortable stopping point. She climbed down her ladder and stepped away from the plane to look up at her work. Oddly enough Jacqueline felt more proud of her pinup girl on the side of the plane than any of the pieces she’d shown back in Paris. 

Normally Jaqueline painted nature scenes. She hadn’t painted a person since university and had been nervous when Corporal Ken Lemmons told her what they wanted. But she had to admit that she’d done good. The painted blushing blonde looked full of life with her lips red and open in a playful pout. Jacqueline had worried whether or not the outfit was too risqué but she liked how the blue two piece swimming costume stood out against the plane’s sheet metal. It was eye catching. She hoped the men liked it just as much as she did. It still seemed like some sort of joke that she was getting to paint again. When she’d overheard Ken bemoaning having to paint designs on the planes she’d jumped at the opportunity before even introducing herself. She never thought that she’d be able to do this sort of thing when she transferred out to Thorpe Abbotts.

Jacqueline figured she still had a couple minutes of light left and climbed back up on the ladder with her paintbrush and palette in hand. The shading along the cleavage didn’t seem right no matter how many times she touched it up. She ached for proper paint but knew to keep her complaints to herself. She’d find a way to make it work, she always did. 

“Now that’s a view worth writing home about.”

The voice came from behind Jacqueline and in her surprise she jerked forward and had to stretch out her hand to brace herself against the plane to steady herself.

“Take it easy now.” The voice was louder, closer. Whoever the speaker was, he was probably right below Jacqueline. She pushed off from the plane and steadied herself on the ladder. 

“I’m good.” she assured him. After taking a breath she finally looked down. 

The man she didn’t recognize had moved up closer to the plane to get a better look at her work. A quick study of the man had Jacqueline wishing she’d met him in different circumstances when she wasn’t wearing coveralls three sizes too big, hair all tucked up into a sweat stained hat, and hands covered in paint. He was tall with broad shoulders. He was wearing a white sheepskin jacket instead of the ones every one else seemed to prefer. His hair looked thick and Jacqueline’s fingers itched to run themselves through it. She thought she saw a mustache. She needed to get a better look at him. 

“Do you like it then?” She asked, gesturing to the pinup with her head even though he wasn’t looking at her to see the gesture. Jacqueline thrived off of hearing what people thought of her art. She was greedy for any possible crumb of praise.

“She’s beautiful. Modeled off your broad back home?” 

“No, I just dreamed her up.” 

“It’s damn realistic to be something you just dreamed up, you must have practice at this sort of thing.” 

“I don’t have a lot of practice in painting half naked women, no.”

“Could’ve fooled me!” The man stepped away from the plane and Jacqueline finally got a better look at him. 

He was gorgeous. Jacqueline really wished she looked more presentable. She pushed her feelings aside and joked, “It’s the naked women we practice on, not clothed.”

“I knew it! You must be some sort of professional artist.” 

“Oh no, please.” She shook her head. “I hate that idea. If you ask me there’s no such thing as a professional artist.” She knew she should stop there but instead continued, “Art is something you engage with, a conversation with something you tap into. An artist should always be open to continual growth and learning. An artist is a student, not a professional. Or at least if they’re a proper artist they wouldn’t consider themselves a professional.” Jacqueline let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Sorry,” She raised her free hand not holding her paintbrush and palette and scratched at something on her cheek and along her jaw. She shrugged. “You were trying to pay me a compliment, it was rude of me to ramble. Thank you.”

When Jacqueline shifted to look back at the man she immediately met his eyes causing her to blush. His eyes were wide and after a brief moment of intense eye contact left her face to trace down her body. She felt his gaze as it went down to her hands in her lap. She burned as he worked his way back up to her face. It had been a while since a man had studied her like this and she hoped it turned into something as foolish as she knew it was to want. It was like his energy had changed completely and she didn’t know why. But she didn’t mind. 

He smirked up at her, causing Jacqueline’s heart to skip a beat, and said, “It wasn’t rude no. Trust me, I love a good ol’ fashioned ramble.” He shook his head and put his hands on his hips. “I’m just realizing I was seriously misled on some key details.” 

Jacqueline did nothing but stare at him, confused. He continued before she could figure out a response. “They said your name was Jack. I didn’t realize that was a nickname.”

Instinctively she tisked, “I told them to stop calling me that, it makes me sound like a boy. I hate nicknames.” 

“If it’s not Jack then what’s your name?” He prodded. 

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” She challenged with a smile. 

“You can call me Bucky.” “Your mother named you Bucky?”

“My mother named me John but—”

“Lovely to meet you, John.” She stuck her free hand out and smiled wider when he took it in his own. “I’m Jacqueline.”

____ 

The officer’s club was full of laughter and music and men working off the restless energy that came with surviving another day. Normally Bucky would be right there with them, right in the thick of it. But he’d flown his first mission that day. He’d gone up and it hadn’t been anything like he thought. He couldn’t even remember what he thought it would be like. Bucky studied the glass in his hands. His hands had done terrible things that day, his hands were nothing like her’s. Nothing like Jacqueline. 

For some reason Bucky hadn’t been able to get her out of his head. He’d never felt like this before, focused so much in on one woman. But he kept thinking about how delicate her paint stained hands looked and the way her scratching at a wayward piece of hair on her face made him realize that she was a woman and not a man like he’d been expecting. Bucky felt ridiculous for being so worked up over a broad’s hands but here he was, a mess. It had only been a couple of days but his thoughts kept coming back to the woman he hadn’t been able to find since meeting on the hardstand. The endless meetings with Colonel Huglin and various other staff hadn’t given him the free time he wanted to search for Jacqueline but at least that afternoon he’d worked out that she wasn’t a mechanic. His mistake had been assuming that her getup had been her uniform. Now he was back to square one. 

A loud cackle broke through over the general noise of the crowd and Bucky couldn’t help but look for the source. There was a group of women by the corner of the dance floor and they looked like they were trying to contain one of them. Bucky watched and took in the view as they joked amongst themselves. The redhead, whose back had been to him, stepped out of the way and Bucky got a better look at the rest of the women in the group. Immediately his eyes jumped to the woman closest to the dance floor, the one with one hand on her hip while the other fanned at her face. She was wearing a rich blue dress that complimented her chestnut hair falling loosely around her face. He’d always liked the color blue but now he knew it was his favorite. She wasn’t wearing red lipstick like the rest of them but Bucky didn’t mind. She seemed to be entertaining her friends and making them laugh; he could tell from all the way across the room that she’d be the life of the party by his side. She was beautiful and Bucky needed to talk to her, needed to dance with her. Anything at all. He was a man starved.

But before he could make a move Lieutenant McDaniel was by his side and Bucky knew he was trapped. By the time he managed to get away from the conversation he’d lost her. Bucky kept his eyes peeled as the night went on, always looking over his shoulder. He’d catch glimpses but then she’d be gone before he could reach her. He couldn’t focus. He blamed his poor darts performance on the booze and joked that he’d come back around once he cleared his head. He wandered back over to the bar defeated. First he’d lost Jacquline and now he’d lost this mystery woman. If any of his guys found out he’d let them slip through his fingers they wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. Bucky’s reputation would never recover. He needed to pull himself together. He downed the last of his drink in one go and asked for another. As he waited for his drink he turned to lean against the bar top and look out over the room. His heart skipped a beat. 

There she was in the middle of a group of women settling down around a table across the hall. She sat down in the seat against the wall, the only one facing him directly. A wave of desire rushed over him, an overwhelming sense of longing that had Bucky feeling like a kid with his first crush. 

“Major.”

Bucky turned around and accepted the drink the bartender was offering him. “Thanks.” He lifted the glass in a cheers motion then turned back around with his eyes immediately going back to the woman. 

Something one of the girls said made her throw her head back in laughter again and Bucky instantly felt himself smiling along with her. The woman was a vision; Bucky wanted to have his way with her. She grabbed her hair all in one hand and pulled it up and away from her face. She fanned herself with the other, still laughing with her friends. When she pulled her hair back the woman had exposed the side of her face and neck so Bucky could now take in her full profile. He almost dropped his drink when he realized he knew that jawline. It was Jacqueline. He’d been eyeing Jacqueline all night and didn’t even realize. He could practically hear Buck in his ear teasing him for being such a fool. 

Without thinking Bucky set his drink on the bar and headed straight for Jacqueline. One of her friends, the redhead, saw him first and elbowed Jacqueline in the side to get her attention. John felt something settle in him when she met his eyes; it felt so right to have her looking at him. He’d always loved attention but never had it hit so right than now. 

“Jacqueline.”

“John.”

He reached out a hand. “Dance with me, doll?” 

“Doll?” she cocked an eyebrow at the endearment but before Bucky could worry about being turned down she was pushing her chair out from the table and standing up. “I can’t promise I’m a good dance partner. I’ll probably step on your toes.”

“A worthy sacrifice to have you in my arms.” He pulled her onto the dance floor and twirled her around, smiling when she giggled as she spun. 

“Smooth talker, are you?” Jaqueline said as she settled into his arms and followed his lead as they started to dance. 

“I’m whatever I need to be when the situation calls.” he boasted.

Jacqueline laughed. “Spoken like a real American.” 

Bucky looked down at her confused but defensive. “What’s wrong with speaking like an American?”

“Nothing at all! Just that you lot tend to act before thinking and seem to think you can handle everything on your own.” 

Bucky was quick to heat with anger but took a second to consider what she’d said. “Where are you from, then? Because your accent sounds an awful lot like mine.” 

“Alright, you got me.” Jacqueline winked at Bucky like she was letting him on a secret. “I’m a Yank like you.” 

“Do you not consider yourself American?” He watched Jacqueline chew on her lip while thinking how to answer. Now that he had her up close Bucky was grateful Jacqueline had forgone the red lipstick for something closer to her natural lip color. He was having a hard enough time keeping his cool as it was. if her full lips were fully painted up Bucky wasn’t sure he had the self control to stay respectable.

“I spent most of my life over here.” She finally answered. “I can’t even remember the last time I was in the States.” she took another moment to think. “It was probably when my mother passed. No, it can’t have been that long, I had to have been back since then. But maybe… no. Hmm… Wow.” she blushed, probably embarrassed at her rambling, and shook her head. “I guess I haven’t been back in nine years? Almost ten.” 

“That’s a long time to be away from home.” 

“Not if it never felt like home to begin with.” Jacqueline said with an unbothered shrug. 

“I can’t wait to figure you out.” Bucky said without thinking first. He quickly turned to look away from Jacqueline to hide his face in case he really was blushing like he felt. 

“It’s still early days.” Jacqueline mused. “We’ve got time.” 

The song ended and the pair separated to join in the applause for the band. A slower song started up and Bucky was quick to pull Jacqueline back against him before she could escape. She didn’t resist him and settled into his arms, leaning her head on his chest. The thing that had settled into him before dug itself deeper. He hadn’t felt like this since his first days learning to fly. 

They danced without talking for a while until Bucky leaned down close to Jacqueline’s ear and whispered, “I looked for you, you know.” 

“You looked for me?” she pulled slightly away stared at him with a look of bewilderment. “What do you mean? Why?” 

“Because I wanted to see you.” he said honestly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” 

Jacqueline mouth dropped open in surprise. She seemed to be lost for words and Bucky loved that. He loved throwing people off their game. He stared at her mouth and took note of the slight smudge of pale lipstick on the corner of her mouth. He wanted to kiss it. He cleared his throat and pushed down his instincts that were begging him to wrap Jacqueline fully in his arms and give into all temptation. He was going to take a page from Buck’s book and be a gentleman about this. 

_____

Jacqueline was already at the bar when the Major came through the doors. A couple of cheers went up at his entrance and she couldn’t help but smile into her drink at the reaction. She loved the theatrics. But she’d done her research and she couldn’t believe she’d been so informal around someone with such a high rank. It didn’t make her want him any less, but it did intensify her nerves. Rank implied status and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get back into the world of status. She watched as he wove his way through the crowd. He didn’t stop talking for a second. Jacqueline wasn’t sure why she was so endeared by his working the room. 

The couple next to her left the bar leaving more than enough room for him to come up next to her. Jacqueline set her glass down on the bar and tried to straighten herself up. She didn’t know what she was going to say to him. Should she wait for him to say something first? She was awful at intentional flirting. Jacqueline glanced over her shoulder and then whipped her head back around. He was almost at the bar and Jacqueline knew he was going to come up next to her. This was it. 

But then he didn’t recognize her. Didn’t even spare her a glance. Jacqueline wanted to laugh she was so mortified but held it in. Based off of the rumors she really thought he’d at least look at her even if he didn’t start flirting. She took a deep drink of her gin and tonic as she listened to the Major order a pint and make small talk with the airman on his other side. Her body felt like it was on fire she was so hyperaware of her surroundings. She felt beyond silly for getting her hopes up that he would want to talk to her again. It had been such a brief thing; they’d barely talked. It didn’t matter how nicely she tried to put herself together, it didn’t matter how long she’d spent on her hair and makeup. Her first impression had come and gone. She’d lost her chance to blow the Major away.

“Another round? Gin and tonic, right?” The bartender asked as she finished off her drink. 

“Please. Thank you.” She said with a smile but barely met the bartender’s eyes. As soon as she had her new cocktail she slipped away from the bar and into the crowd. 

Her original plan of doing something — admittedly she hadn’t gotten far enough along to actually plan anything, she’d been counting on John to do most of the doing — was useless now so she figured to hell with it. She was going to enjoy her night with her girls. Her closest friends and coworkers, Ginny and Elizabeth, cheered when she returned to them. Jacqueline thanked her past self for not telling them about meeting the Major. She knew they would tease and end up repeating the stories that had started spreading through the base. It didn’t do her any good to think about all of the women John had slept with. Maybe it was for the best that Jacqueline was forgettable. She needed to keep thinking about him as the Major, not as John. He was just a nice man she’d met and that was that. 

An hour later and her friends were all sitting around a table, laughing at Ginny’s imitation of their old supervisor. Jacqueline pulled all of her hair back from her face, twisted it around in her hand and held it up at the back of her head. With her other hand she fanned at her face. She’d worked up a sweat dancing and her hand was doing nothing to help her cool down. Jacqueline had just made up her mind to go out and grab some air since she was so hot, maybe she’d even turn in for the night, when Elizabeth elbowed Jaqueline in the side. 

“What was—” Jacqueline’s voice broke off when she followed Elizabeth’s line of site and saw the Major walking towards them. He was looking right at her and when she met his eyes he grinned. The other girls at their table turned to see what Jacqueline and Elizabeth were staring at and the conversation had died by the time John reached their table. 

“Jacqueline.” 

She felt butterflies when he said her name. 

“John.” She replied with a smile. Then she’d taken his offered hand and followed him out to dance floor. 

She’d spent the rest of the night wrapped up in John’s orbit. Even when they weren’t dancing John had kept her close, a warm presence that Jaqueline didn’t mind despite hating the heat. Normally Jacqueline was only good at being lively and social at the beginning of the night, more often than not she would slip out early to sooth her introverted nature begging to be alone. But somehow she loved being constantly surrounded with John by her side. It was easy to maintain a smile and keep up with the jokes being thrown around with the weight of John’s arm around her waist. 

Time seemed to pass in the blink of an eye and too soon John was walking her back to her hut, the perfect gentleman despite the rumors. Jaqueline wondered if this was what flying felt like; oddly enough she felt weightless with her arm wrapped around John’s. 

“When can I see you again?” John asked when they were almost at her hut. 

“It’s a small base, I’m sure we’ll run into each other.” she said coyly. Jacqueline didn’t have a lot of experience with men but she knew with men like John she had to hold her ground. “I’m sure you could find me if you really wanted.”

“Is that a challenge?” He sounded excited, like Jacqueline had given him some sort of gift. 

“You think you can manage finding me?” 

“I’ll manage it all for you, whatever you ask.” 

John’s words were what Jacqueline had always wanted to hear from a man but she knew to be wary. “You should be careful saying things like that to a girl. She might get her hopes up.” 

“And if I want her to?”

That took Jacqueline by surprise. She spluttered, “Then you should show her you care. Talk is useless if it’s just that.” 

“Good thing I’m a man who acts.” And with that John twisted Jacqueline towards him. His hand went right to the side of her face and he cradled her jaw as he pulled her in for a kiss. 

Jacqueline didn’t even pretend to be respectable. As soon as John’s lips were on her’s she was desperate for more. She pulled her arm out from being trapped between them and wrapped it around John’s back to bring him closer. It was clear he hadn’t expected Jacqueline to escalate the kiss but he was quick to match her energy. He moved his hand into the thick of her hair and Jacqueline couldn’t hold back her moan when he tugged at it to bring her closer to him. 

Her moan seemed to snap John out of it and he ripped himself away from Jacqueline, breathing hard. He took a couple of steps back leaving Jacqueline standing there looking like some strung out floozy with slick lips and wide eyes. She figured she should be embarrassed by how scandalous she was sure to look but she couldn’t seem to care when John seemed to be just as out of sorts. They looked at each other in silence, their heavy breathing the only noise between them. And then they both started to laugh loudly into the night. John came back to Jacqueline’s side.

“I’ll come find you.” He promised with a kiss to the top of her head. Another to her forehead. 

“I’m looking forward to it, Major.” She gave him a wave before entering her hut. She waited a minute until she let out a giggle and danced around the empty hut like the teenage girl she was feeling like. 

Jacqueline spent the next day on edge waiting for John to pop up at any moment. She meant what she said: Thorpe Abbotts wasn’t a big base. There were only so many places one could hide and she wasn’t even trying to hide. But to her dismay John never showed. She felt like such a fool for getting her hopes up. Her mood the following day went from bad to worse when the forts started rolling in after the mission. Lieutenant McDaniel’s fort, the one John was flying on, hadn’t come back. John was gone.

That afternoon Jacqueline was lost in thought staring out the minuscule window. The forest around the base reminded her of the years spent in Switzerland even though the two looked nothing alike. She had been such a child back then; the world had been so big back when she was young and now Jacqueline felt so small standing in the corner of the switchboard room. She felt so naive for losing herself over a flyboy so quickly, especially one she barely knew. Her cousin had joked that Jaqueline would find herself a pilot and finally have one of those romances that inspired great art. Even her aunt had commented on the possibility of her work leading to producing something she never thought possible. But just because the first world war and her various lovers had inspired her aunt to write didn’t mean Jacqueline was the same. Jacqueline was nauseous thinking about using her heartbreak as inspiration. Maybe this was why she couldn’t consider herself a proper artist.

The sound of her coworkers arguing pulled Jacqueline from her thoughts. It was no surprise they were talking about her. Nor was it a surprise they would do so openly in front of her without care. After all the time they’d spent together the three of them didn’t hold anything back. 

“At least she got out quick.”

“Bloody hell, Ginny. That’s awful to say.” Elizabeth dropped her nail file on the ground as she looked up scandalized.

“I’m just saying!” Ginny defended herself. “You can’t tell me that the heartache would be the same if they’d been together for ages. She’s better off this way!”

Elizabeth bent down to reach under her chair. She picked up her nail file and pointed it accusingly at Ginny. “But you don’t need to say that!”

“It’s important to see the bright side!” 

“It’s also important to have more than a couple of hours to process losing someone. You of all people should know better.” Elizabeth chastised. 

Ginny’s face went red with a mix of embarrassment and anger. “I was just trying to help.” She pouted, bitter that Elizabeth had poked at her sore spot.  “It’s okay, Ginny.” Jacqueline stepped away from the window and turned back around to face her friends. She gave them a weak smile in an effort to assure them but she could tell from their faces it didn’t work. 

Their office was small, enough room to maneuver around their chairs but not much beyond that. It felt as cramped as their switchboards looked. But luckily the girls knew how to make the space work, having worked together for almost two and a half years. When Jacqueline had been approached to transfer to Thorpe Abbotts until the Americans could get their crew up and running she said she’d only go if she could pick who would work underneath her. Ginny and Elizabeth hadn’t let her down and Jacqueline was beyond grateful she didn’t have to navigate this new world alone. 

She plopped down into her chair and let out a deep sigh. “You’re both right, I suppose.” 

“How’re you doing?” Elizabeth asked gently. 

Jacqueline shrugged. “As expected.” 

“I’m assuming you don’t want to get a drink with us then, after we get off?” 

“No one’s getting off anymore.” 

“Ginny!” Elizabeth, as always, was scandalized by Ginny’s comment but Jacqueline was laughing despite herself. 

“I didn’t even get off to begin with.” She confessed after she stopped giggling. 

“All that and you didn’t—”

“When would I have had the time to shag him?” Jacqueline asked with a tired sigh. “You know I haven’t seen him since.” 

Ginny was quiet for a moment but then said, “At least you snogged.” 

Jaqueline’s heart hurt as she thought about how John had looked at her when he pulled away from their kiss after he walked her back to her hut. “At least there’s that.” she sighed again. 

An alarm rang out and the girls sprung to attention. 

“I got it.” Jacqueline motioned for the other two to settle back into their chairs while she put on her headset. She connected the right wire then said, “Good afternoon, this is RAF Thorpe Abbotts. How may I direct your call?” 

____ 

He thought it was a dream at first, that made he’d hit his head at some point during the mission and was losing it. But his gut told him he recognized the voice of the operator who answered his call. He cleared his throat. 

“This is Major Egan. We’re out at—”

“John!” the voice was breathless and desperate just like he’d been dreaming. Straight out of his fantasizes and into reality. “Major, are you there?” 

Bucky cleared his throat again and said with a laugh, “Does it count as finding you if I don’t see you?” 

A loud laugh came through the phone and Bucky felt human again. 

[prettyboykatsuki]

TELL US THE LORE????

dkjfhsdgj ITS KIND DERANGED LMAOO. sorry for yapping about her backstory but its relevant to their insane dynamic lmao

my self insert / oc is basically like. disillusioned software engineer. shes based off edward snowden. she's from the planet of talia (which is desert wasteland) and she's an orphan and was raised with other bandit gangs lol. she learned how to write software and engineer thru trial and error. she's an orphan and doesn't really have any family with the exceptions of like two people she considers. but no blood. no idea who her parents are lol

she gets picked up by the ipc when she's in her teen years because she gets caught trying to steal from them using some phishing software she made. they offer recruitment instead of jail-time bc her skillsets are valuable and she sees it as a good opportunity.

she quickly finds out the ipc is crazy corrupt and she gets really like. she wants to get out but the contract is insane. so she basically. like. steals a bunch of money from the ipc and then goes permanently on the run LMAO.

she finds refuge in different planets but the ipc is everywhere. she keeps stealing from them though and interrupting their business models. very robinhood i guess. she has more of a moral conscience than other inserts i make she's really upright.

her personality is really like super antisocial and paranoid. complete loser forreal. after all that jumping around, she ends up hiding in penacony bc its huge and even with ipc presence, it's really easy for the blend in

this is where her relationship with sunday starts. he's really into her because he doesn't like the IPC for one, but also because he finds her to be benevolent (and she is to her credit she's really morally upright). he offers her like . complete refuge and protection in exchange for being part of the family.

she. adamantly refuses this proposition (he will keep asking though) but offers to work for the family as a contractor in exchange for protection. sunday agrees, she's an important and valuable asset with tons of insider information but also he feels weirdly comfortable around her.

they have such a weird relationship LMAOOOAOAOA. sunday develops this very possessive feeling about her and is really coercive and manipulative to her in general. he comes and goes as he pleases but she's not allowed to stray too far. quick to tug her leash basically. he has a really complete control over her and he's paranoid about her trying to leave him. always pulling her into corners and being kind of humiliating and controlling about how she dresses and acts etc

THE INSANE THING IS THAT SHE'S KIND OF. FINE WITH IT. she's really aware that sunday is crazy and manipulative and batshit. but she has HELLA abandonment issues because she has no "home." sunday constantly breathing down her back to stay with him and be his possesion gives her a comfortable sense of belonging and she doesn't think of him as evil - so she's weirdly content with him and just wants to be with him

SOMETIMES. WHEN SUNDAY IS IN A GOOD MOOD. he'll ask her what he wants and he's always expecting her to like beg for her own freedom but she never does. always asks for like intimacy like bathing together and cuddling. and it always shocks sunday LMAOAOA because he's convinced she secretly depsises him but its like dude. Lol.

they're genuinely so in love. this is deranged im aware but they really genuinely love each other and feel understood by one another. but its insane by all accounts