#i stopped playing a couple weeks ago but i saw all the spoilers today

[acacia-may]

There Is Happiness (OMORI Kelbrey Fanfiction)

Description: Aubrey hadn’t always been this way. She could still remember a younger, less jaded version of herself who was actually excited about the idea of prom. A happier Aubrey who had used to giggle with Mari over the gowns in store catalogs and dream about all of her friends getting dressed up and going dancing together one day. A more innocent Aubrey who used to spend hours making plans for a future that would never get to happen. Her friends never got to go to a prom, and neither did she…Until now that is...

OR

Nearly a decade after the bad ending of OMORI, Kel and Hero plan a fake "prom" to surprise Sally, drudging up bittersweet memories for Aubrey about her friends--both the ones she had lost and, especially, the ones, who like her, had been left behind to pick up the pieces. Will confronting the past lead her to a brighter future?

Kelbrey Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, & How Their (Functional) Relationship Developed Over Time After the Bad Ending of OMORI. (Note: This is a standalone one shot that is a completely different bad end AU than my other really angsty bad end AU fic).

Relationships: KELBREY (Romantic Kel x Aubrey) CENTRIC (Functional, Healthy, Slow Burn Kelbrey). There are also important platonic friendships discussed & depicted in flashbacks: Aubrey & Hero & Kel friendship, Aubrey & Kel & Sally friendship, Aubrey & Mari friendship, Aubrey & Kel & Sunny & Basil & Hero & Mari friendship [Aubrey & Kel's friendships with Basil, Sunny, & Mari are a recurring & important theme]. Past Romantic Hero x Mari is referenced/heavily implied.

Characters: Aubrey (POV Character), Kel, Hero, Sally, and Mari (Sunny & Basil also appear briefly and are mentioned).

Genre: Slow Burn Romance, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Developing Romance Through the Years, Angst With A Hopeful Ending, Post-Bad Ending, Many Flashback Sequences, Prom

Word Count: 12,748

Rating: T for some heavy themes and thematic elements (i.e. grief & healing from grief and trauma. Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death & Implied/Referenced Mental Health Issues including depression & suicide).

Warnings: Major Spoilers for OMORI! Heavy themes and thematic elements (i.e. grief & healing from grief and trauma. Implied/Referenced Canonical Character Death & Implied/Referenced Mental Health Issues including depression & suicide). Kissing.

Link to original post on AO3. Please do not repost to another website.

A/N: Unfortunately, I missed Kelbrey Week because I did not know the ship even existed at the time (and had never played OMORI back in the dark ages of a couple of months ago), but I saw the prompts on Tumblr and was really inspired by the Prom prompt. Not only did the idea of "Kelbrey Prom" get a bunch of wheels turning in my brain, it also just so happened to be the prompt on my birthday, so I felt like it was it was just meant to be and I needed to write this story as soon as I had the idea. So I just wanted to offer a word of many, many thanks to @kelbreyweek for the prompt & inspiration for this story. 💕

Story below the cut. Thank you for reading!

Aubrey slammed her foot on the brake. She had lived in Faraway Town her whole life and still forgot about that stop sign. She probably always would.

The intersection was bustling today, and there was far more traffic than usual for a Saturday night. Aubrey supposed that was to be expected seeing as it was their local high school’s prom tonight, and the streets and sidewalks were filled with gussied-up teenagers in suits and poofy, colorful dresses. Aubrey rolled her eyes, conveniently ignoring the fact that she was in a pink prom dress herself—but at the very least it wasn’t that poofy.

Aubrey didn’t understand all the prom hype, especially now that she was trying to drive with teens darting in and out of the road and the straps of her dress uncomfortably digging into her arms whenever she tried to turn her steering wheel. She sighed. She sounded like such a grouchy old woman.

She hadn’t always been like that. The memories were hazy now, but she could still remember a younger less weathered, less jaded version of herself who was actually excited about the idea of prom.

*-*-*

“They’re so lucky,” sighed Aubrey glancing up from her pizza to watch the group of teenagers who had just walked into Gino’s dressed up in their finest suits and prettiest dresses for the prom.

Mari chuckled but patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry. That’ll be you too soon enough.”

“It’ll be you sooner,” Aubrey insisted with a widening smile. “You’ll get to go in just a couple of years, right?” She paused, then giggled teasingly. “With Hero.”

Hero’s face flushed, and he grew suddenly interested in his piece of pizza. Mari’s expression softened—something affectionate passing over her eyes as she chuckled at him behind her hand. She shrugged her shoulders then teased, “I don’t know. I might have to think about it,” but she winked at him and the blush in his cheeks deepened.

“Why do you even need a date to the prom anyway? Can’t you just go with your friends?” asked Kel as he practically shoveled pizza into his mouth.

Aubrey rolled her eyes and huffed. “Don’t talk with food in your mouth. It’s so gross.”

“You’re gross,” bantered Kel, sticking his tongue out at her before shoving the rest of his piece of pizza into his mouth.   

Aubrey huffed again, but Hero gently interrupted changing the subject. “I think people do go to prom in groups with their friends. You don’t have to take a date like in the movies.” He paused before turning to his brother with a dry, bantering smile. “But if you want someone to take you, I’m sure Kel can.”

“No way! I’m not going to the prom with her. Basil can take her.”

“Wha—what? Why me?” stumbled Basil, bright red in the face.

“Because they always have those flower bracelets at the prom in the movies and you know all about flowers and stuff.”

“That’s called a corsage, moron,” bantered Aubrey. “And don’t worry, I’d rather go to prom with Hector than you.”

With a confused tilt of his head, Kel blinked at her. “Can we take dogs to prom? Awesome!” Kel beamed, and Aubrey rolled her eyes. “I’ll take Hector then, and Basil can take Aubrey.”

Basil’s blush deepened as he twisted his hands. “Well…um…I mean…” He paused, swallowing hard. “Well…maybe Sunny can take you…? He’s probably better at dancing.”

“Sunny will take you,” agreed Mari with a warm smile. “Won’t you, Sunny?”

Sunny pursued his lips together and pensively stared at his hands. Aubrey wasn’t sure but his face seemed a little more flushed than usual. He finally nodded briskly and quietly said, “Okay” though he wouldn’t look up from his plate.

Mari’s smile widened, and she chuckled. “See, problem solved.”

“I don’t understand why we can’t just all go to prom together,” sighed Kel. “You, me, Sunny, Basil, and Hector, and Hero and Mari too even though they’ll be older. We can all just go as friends.”

“That sounds nice,” said Sunny so quietly he was difficult to hear over the low roar and ruckus of the restaurant patrons.

“See!” exclaimed Kel triumphantly. “Sunny agrees with me. We should all just plan to go together as friends.”

“You might change your mind when you get older, Kel,” teased Hero with a dry but affectionate smile. Kel grimaced, sticking his tongue out at his older brother.

“No way!” He huffed then turned to Basil. “You think this sounds like a good idea, right Basil?”

“Wha—what? Oh…uh…yeah okay…” he stammered unsurely.

“Aubrey?”

Kel crossed his arms and glared at her, but Aubrey sighed and conceded, “Alright, but only because Sunny likes the idea. It might be nice for all of us to go as friends, but if I get a date, he’s coming with us too, okay?”

Mari started laughing behind her hand as Kel exaggeratedly rolled his eyes and huffed, “Whatever.”

*-*-*

A bittersweet smile tugged at Aubrey’s mouth. How silly they were then—how innocent. There was a pang in her chest, even now, so many years later as she remembered how they had spent hours together talking and laughing—making plans for a future that would never get to happen. She remembered how she used to giggle with Mari over the evening gowns in department store catalogs, sighing wistfully at the billboards advertising that year’s prom theme at the local high school, and dreaming of the day they’d get to go to one themselves. Aubrey’s chest ached as she sighed. Mari never got to go to a prom, and neither did she…

*-*-*

Tears prickled in Aubrey’s eyes as she glanced over the unworn prom dress still hanging up on the back of the closet door. She would probably feel better if she just shoved it into the back of her closet, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She had worked so hard for that dress—picking up extra shifts at Gino’s to afford such a luxury. She had justified it by reminding herself it was probably the only time in her life that she would get to wear such a dress, and this one was exactly what she had always dreamed: deep pink, floor-length chiffon. As soon as she saw it in the department store, a real, genuine smile had tugged at her mouth for the first time in so long that the sensation had felt almost foreign to her. And when she had finally bought the dress and tried it on for her friends to see, Charlene had quietly said she looked happy in it. She didn’t need to add that Aubrey hadn’t looked happy for a very long time.

A tear streamed down Aubrey’s cheek. She had wanted to wear that dress and go to the prom, but she just couldn’t—not today. Not now. Not without them.

Aubrey sniffled—rubbing her hand across her throbbing forehead. Her headache was so severe that she was actually starting to hear the pounding of her head. Or at least she thought she was until her mother called in a slurred, irritated voice,   

“Aubrey! Get the door.”

Aubrey quickly wiped her eyes and scurried downstairs.

“Tell them whatever they’re selling we don’t want it,” her mother added with a dismissive wave of her hand as Aubrey walked by the couch carefully tiptoeing around the empty liquor bottles which littered the ground.

Aubrey wasn’t sure who was at their front door, but she doubted a salesman would be bothering them at this time of night. Still she mumbled, “Okay” as she turned the bolts of the lock and opened the door.

“Hey, Aubrey,” said Kel with a slight wave of his hand and a friendly smile. “How’s it going?”

Aubrey could only blink at him. He was dressed in a nice, dark suit with an unexpected bright pink tie. If she had been feeling better, she probably would’ve thought of a dry quip to tease him about it but instead she just sighed, ushering him out onto the porch before her mother got irritated by the noise.

“Kel, what are you doing here?” she asked through her teeth. “Aren’t you supposed to be at prom?”

Kel shrugged. “I was there for a while, but you weren’t there so I thought I’d come check on you.”

“Sorry…”—Aubrey’s face flushed—“I tried to call you…”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I got your message. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just…I…uh…wasn’t feeling up to it.” Aubrey sighed, hoping that Kel wouldn’t read too much into it.

“Oh…are you feeling sick? The pharmacy should still be open. I can run down to—”

“No, Kel,” she cut him off, placing her hand on his arm. “That is…uh…I’m fine. You should go back to the prom. I don’t want to ruin your night.”

Kel’s expression softened, and he smiled at her. “Don’t worry about it. The prom was kind of boring without you anyway.” He paused. “You sure you don’t want to—?”

“Yeah,” she cut him off just a little too forcefully, trying her best to frown despite her flushed face.

“Okay…” he said quietly. “Then…do you mind if I hang out here for a little while?”

Aubrey’s face grew warm with guilt and embarrassment. Just because she had ruined her own night didn’t mean she had to ruin Kel’s as well. “You really don’t have to do that.”

“Nah. I want to. I’d rather spend tonight with you than at the dumb prom anyway.”

“Kel, I can’t let you do that,” she insisted, but he smiled at her.

“It’s just a bunch of people dancing and stuff—and sure that’s fun and all but it’s not as cool as everyone acts like it is.” He shrugged his shoulders. “They did hang all these Christmas lights from the ceiling though and that was kinda cool—since the theme is ‘A Night Under the Stars.’” Sighing, Kel took a seat on the porch—leaning back on his hands and looking up at the sky. “But there are real stars out here which are better anyway.”

“Kel…” Aubrey began to argue, but she wasn’t sure what to say. “You can’t just miss your prom.”

“Sure I can,” he shrugged with matter-of-fact nonchalance. “You are, aren’t you? And the prom always mattered way more to you. You were really looking forward to it…” Kel’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Did someone break your heart or something so you didn’t want to come anymore?”

Aubrey stifled a breathy chuckle but shook her head. “No. Nothing like that. I wasn’t even planning on going with a date.” She paused, glancing over at Kel’s pink tie. “Won’t your date be upset that you left?”

“Oh uh…” chuckled Kel awkwardly, fidgeting with his tie. “I didn’t go with one.”

“Really?” The question slipped out before Aubrey could think to stop it, but Kel just shrugged his shoulders.

“Yep.” He paused and sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. “To tell you the truth, I—I kind of wanted to ask this one girl, but it didn’t work out. Oh well…”

Aubrey paused. While he was one of her best friends, they never really discussed their love lives or lack thereof. She didn’t even know Kel was romantically interested in anyone and couldn’t even begin to guess who it was. She supposed it was none of her business, but if Kel had left prom early because of this girl rather than just to check on her, it would certainly help her feel better about things.

“Is she the reason you left?” asked Aubrey taking a seat next to him on the porch.

Kel froze, and his cheeks flushed. “Wha—what?” he stumbled, more awkward than she ever would’ve expected from the happy-go-lucky Kel. He chuckled lightly but didn’t say no.

“It’s okay if she is. I wasn’t going to tease you or anything. I just—” She stopped. “I just don’t want to you miss out,” she said in a shaky voice. “Especially not because of me.”

“I already said don’t worry about it. I’d rather spend prom night with you, even if we don’t actually go to the prom.” Aubrey’s mouth twitched, she could almost hear the smile in his voice, but she frowned with a heavy sigh.

“But you already missed the last one…”

“Because Basil—” Kel’s voice cracked. He didn’t finish that statement, but he didn’t have to. Basil had died just a few weeks before their Junior Prom and the last thing either of them had wanted to do was go to some big party, especially one that Basil should have been attending himself, and instead they had spent prom night at the spot in the park where they had always had picnics with their friends, then sitting around Kel’s kitchen table looking through Basil’s old photo albums.

Aubrey had never told Kel that she had been considering skipping prom months before Basil’s death anyway, too saddened by the idea of having to go without Sunny and of Mari having never been able to go to hers. Basil’s death and the note he left behind for them was the final straw. She wouldn’t have blamed Kel if he had still wanted to go himself, but he had told her he was just too sad. She could understand that. Back then, it really felt like neither of them would ever be happy again.

But this year… she had been so determined, so set on going and trying to have to good time because she knew her friends wouldn’t want her to miss out on it on their account. Aubrey’s insides twisted, and her eyes burned, tears prickling behind them again.

“Aubrey?” When she turned to look at him, the faint flush of red had faded from his cheeks and his expression had softened but a look of concern quickly passed over his eyes. “Have you been crying?”

Aubrey’s face grew hot, and she swallowed hard as she frantically swiped at her eyes again. How red and puffy were they that Kel had noticed? “You can’t just ask someone that, Kel,” she replied with a shaky, bantering huff, but Kel only blinked at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked, and Aubrey bit her lip. She couldn’t believe him—skipping over the ‘are you sure you’re okay?’ questions and straight to the ‘do you want to talk?’ Aubrey sighed though she felt a blush fill her cheeks and she fidgeted. She should probably expect it by now, given how many deep conversations she and Kel had been having over the past two years ever since Sunny and Basil had passed away. Her chest ached at the thought. Kel was giving her that look now—like he could see right through her, knew something was wrong and knew she was hurting even if she didn’t have the words to say it. She could see his pain too—that hollowness that crept into his smiles, that bittersweet sadness in his eyes. Kel’s eyes reflected the same pain that ached in her chest whenever she thought of Mari or Sunny or Basil. She was sure he could see his own grief in her as well, and perhaps that’s what had led them to find each other in the first place, in the wake of the loss of their friends—clinging to each other like two lost souls, sharing things with each other they could never even begin to tell anyone else.

“You can talk to me,” he gently encouraged her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Aubrey took a deep breath. She didn’t know if she wanted to unpack this, and she certainly didn’t want to dump it all onto Kel. She already felt guilty enough that he had left the prom to check up on her. But the look on Kel’s face was so warm and so kind, and the words, the painful truth was eating away at her waiting to be told to someone.

“You remember how we’d all promised we’d go to prom together someday?”

Kel’s brow furrowed. “Not really, but my memories of everyone are getting fuzzy…” There was a painful sadness cutting through his words as he said them.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t a big moment or anything. We were just at Gino’s joking around about it once, after a group of teenagers dressed for prom came in.” She paused. “You said you wanted to bring your dog.”

“Oh yeah…” said Kel with the slight twitch of a smile. “I remember that now. Mari was teasing Hero about taking her someday, and Sunny agreed with me that it would be nice if all of us could go together as friends.” Sighing, Kel paused—something bittersweet passing over his eyes. “You’re sad you couldn’t go with them, aren’t you?”

It wasn’t really a question.

Aubrey sniffled and nodded, and Kel cut her off reaching out to her. “Oh Aubrey, I…”

“It’s not just that. I was actually planning on going. I wanted to go. I bought a dress and everything. I knew it was going to be a hard day, but I was determined to do this. I knew they wouldn’t want me to miss out—would’ve wanted to me to go, even if I was sad they couldn’t be there with me.” Her voice cracked, and Kel nodded solemnly, understandingly.

“But…but…” she stumbled over her words as her eyes burned. “I was out of hairspray and knew I needed some for tonight, so I was riding my bike down to The Other Mart, and I saw there was a group of kids in the park and…” The tears started to pool in Aubrey’s eyes, and she took a deep, shaky breath, barely managing to choke out, “They were making flower crowns…”

She swiped at the tears that began to splash down her cheeks as she stumbled in the bits and pieces of sentences she could manage despite the panging ache in her chest, “I just—I just froze. I…I couldn’t stop thinking about…I turned around and came straight home and I just haven’t been able to stop crying…” She sniffled, wiping her eyes. “I know it’s so silly…to let something like that ruin my whole day, especially when it’s the prom, but I just started thinking about them and how they never got to go to prom and all the things they never got to do and will never get to do and…” Her voice trailed, as her words got choked by a sob in the back of her throat.

“I know,” sighed Kel quietly, giving her a reassuring pat on the back and pulling her into a hug. Aubrey took a few deep shaky breaths as she pressed her chin to Kel’s shoulder.

“It’s so stupid…” she mumbled, angry with herself as she pulled away from him.

“It’s not stupid at all.” He sighed heavily. “You know the other day I was supposed to be picking up a couple of groceries for my mom, and I was in that aisle in The Other Mart where they keep all the soups and sauces and stuff, and there was this lady there with her kids and the one kid dropped this big jar of spaghetti sauce—made a huge mess”—he paused as his breath hitched—”And I remembered that time we all tried to make spaghetti to surprise Hero, and I dropped the jar on the counter and the sauce splattered everywhere—it got in Basil’s hair and… Sunny was blinking at me with sauce all over his face and you were so mad but Mari just laughed…” He paused, swallowing hard. “It was like I couldn’t breathe. I ran out of there—totally forgot about the groceries.”

“Kel…” Aubrey began as she hugged him more tightly.

“I guess the moral of the story is neither one of us should be going shopping at the Other Mart, huh?” Kel chuckled lightly, but he sniffled and Aubrey could feel his shoulders trembling like he was trying not to cry.

They just sat there holding each other for a long time. No words were spoken, but they didn’t have to be. They understood—shared this pain of being the ones left behind. Kel sniffled, and Aubrey wondered if he was crying. It wouldn’t be the first time he had cried in front of her, and she knew—they both probably knew—that it wouldn’t be the last.

“You know, sometimes I think, I’m okay,” Kel managed in a wavering voice. “I still miss them, of course, but I’m not going to just start crying in the grocery store…but then…something like that happens and I just…I don’t know if I’m ever going to be okay. Like there was this whole life that I had before, but it’s all over and now I have this new life and even if things get better and it doesn’t hurt as much all the time, that sadness is always going to be there. There’s always going to be something missing, and I’m never going to not miss them.”

Aubrey sniffled and pulled away from him to look in his face, but that deep, indescribable pain in his misty eyes made her forget her words. She supposed it didn’t really matter. There was nothing she could possibly say that would make him feel better—she knew that better than anyone.

“Sorry,” he said hurriedly as he wiped his tears away. “I didn’t mean to make this about me. I feel really bad for dumping all that on you, especially when you were already upset.”

“No. I’m…I’m glad you told me, Kel,” she said hugging him again. “It’s…nice to know I’m not the only one…”

“You’re definitely not the only one—but it really does feel like you and me against the world sometimes, right?”

A kind, bittersweet smile pulled at the corners of Aubrey’s mouth as Kel wrapped an arm around her and she leaned her head on his shoulder. “Sometimes.”

“Hero too, but…” Kel paused, fidgeting. Aubrey nodded in understanding. He didn’t have to explain. She knew Hero worried especially about his younger brother which made it more difficult to open up to him about all of this sometimes, plus he was away at school and neither one of them wanted to bother him, especially when he was suffering a lot on his own.

“He missed his prom, too, didn’t he?” asked Aubrey quietly, changing the subject. Kel hummed, and she could feel him nod in response.

“But it’s overrated anyway…”

*-*-*

Kel was probably right, and the prom was overrated. That didn’t mean that she didn’t have the occasional regret about not going to hers, however. It wasn’t something she ever really talked about, but if she didn’t know better she would have thought that the fact she had skipped out on hers was part of the reason that Kel had invited her over tonight for the “prom” he and Hero had been putting together to surprise their younger sister, Sally.

Even though Sally was far too young to go to a prom, she was fairly vocal about the fact that she desperately wanted to. Though Aubrey thought it was a little odd to throw a prom for a little kid, she supposed there was no harm to it, and it was sweet that Hero and Kel were always trying to do such nice things for their little sister. She had also offered to help put it all together though she reminded Kel that she had never actually been to a prom so what would she possibly know about it? He said it wasn’t anything too fancy, but still insisted they should all dress up nicely. Just luckily Aubrey had had her unused prom dress from her own senior prom still hanging up in the back of her closet collecting dust. She supposed it was nice to finally get the chance to wear it, even if that meant getting stuck in stop-and-go traffic for half an hour.

Aubrey sighed. There was never any traffic on the way to prom in the movies. The people just got into their car—or their limo—and whipped right to the school without another car on the road. It was more than little unfair. Though she supposed she should know better than thinking of movies, especially teen rom coms, as real life.

*-*-*

“Okay, okay. I know we watch this movie every year, but I still don’t understand: can everybody at this school afford a limo? And where do the limos go when they’re all at prom?” asked Kel between bites of what had to be his third or fourth piece of birthday cake. Hero had been apologizing profusely for the fact it was store bought this year, but they understood he was extremely busy in medical school. They tried to reassure him that Mari would understand too, but Aubrey wasn’t sure if he had believed them. “How do all the limos even fit in the parking lot?”

“I don’t know, Kel,” Aubrey sighed, setting her piece of cake on the coffee table. “Just don’t think about it too much.”

“Listen, I went to prom—well part of it, and nobody came in a limo. Nobody,” Kel insisted forcefully, gesturing emphatically at her with his fork and flinging cake and frosting onto her face.

Aubrey huffed. “Kel!”

“Oh, you’ve got something on your nose,” he teased before playing poking at it with his finger.

“Here’s some napkins,” said Hero, handing her a stack of napkins with that said ‘Happy Birthday’ surrounded by balloons.

“Thank you.” Aubrey nodded at Hero then rolled her eyes at Kel shaking her head, but his attention was transfixed on the movie again, probably still wondering about the limos.

Aubrey sighed. Every year they watched Mari’s favorite movie for her birthday, and every year Kel found something else about it that didn’t make sense to him. Last year, it was how nobody in the school had worn anything even close to the same outfit. The year before that it was how the main character who was supposed to be smart hadn’t ever questioned her love interest’s obviously complicated motivations in asking her to the prom in the first place. This year it was the limos.

Aubrey sometimes wondered if Kel had only started this tradition of chattering away during the movie in the hopes that it would keep her and Hero’s spirits up and prevent them from being too sad that Mari wasn’t there to celebrate her birthday with them. But other times—like now, when she watched him pick up his piece of cake with his hands and shove it into his mouth as the icing squished into his face, she thought it was probably more likely that it was just Kel being Kel.

A smile tugged her lips in spite of herself, but she pushed the thought away. She’d never admit that she was glad Kel was around to ask dumb questions about the movie, and as she watched the small smile in the corners of Hero’s mouth, she was sure he felt the same way.

When the credits began to roll, Hero started cleaning up the cake, plates, and napkins, and Kel started prattling away again. “Why do movies make prom into such a big deal, anyway? They act like it’s the most important thing that will ever happen to you.”

“Well…” Hero sighed, his brow furrowing thoughtfully. “I think they need a climatic moment for the story, and when the characters are teenagers, they can’t have a wedding or something like that so they use the prom.”

“It’s really not as cool as all that though. I was honestly kind of let down.” Kel’s mouth curved into a teasing, lopsided grin before he chuckled, seemingly getting distracted once again by his cake. “This cake was great, by the way!”

“You can thank Aubrey for that. She picked it up from Nona’s.”

Aubrey shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I was in there anyway.” She stopped, not quite ready to admit that she was in that bakery a lot. It was one of her favorite places in their college town, and she liked to treat herself with a pastry every now and again after exams, if she did well on them of course.

“Sorry I couldn’t make one this year…” Hero apologized again with red, apologetic cheeks. “Neuroanatomy is just kicking my tushie.”

Aubrey and Kel broke into raucous laughter. “Your tushie? Really, Hero?” teased Kel.  

“What are you—five?” Aubrey bantered.

“You know what I mean,” sighed Hero. Though his cheeks were flushed, he was smiling in spite of himself. “Medical school is hard.” He sighed again. “I’m sure Aubrey understands being in nursing and all.”

“I’m glad I’m going to be a nurse and not a doctor—there’s too much memorizing. I’m not smart enough for that.”

“Don’t say that, Aubrey,” chimed Kel. “You and Hero are both super smart—you know all kinds of medical stuff. I could never do what you do.”

“Well I’m sure neither of us could ever do what you do either, Kel,” Aubrey insisted, and Hero nodded in agreement. “You can fix anything, and I wouldn’t even know what to do with a welding torch if my life depended on it.”

Kel chuckled his face brightening. “I can show you sometime if you want. It’s really not that hard.”

“Says the ‘Welder of the Year,’” bantered Aubrey.  

“It was only ‘of the month,’ and…”  

“I still have the newsletter hanging up on our refrigerator,” interjected Hero with a proud smile. Kel scratched the back of his neck as his face flushed.

“You can take that down, you know? It’s really not that big of a deal…” He sighed. “I only fix engines and stuff. I don’t save lives or anything like you guys.”

Aubrey sighed, shaking her head. “I’ve never saved a life.”

“I’ve barely even left my classroom,” said Hero. “So you’ve at least got one up on me. You’re in clinicals now, aren’t you?”

Aubrey nodded. “Yeah. I’m trying to get a job as a student nurse too. I just interviewed in behavioral health and psychiatry.”

She stopped abruptly as Kel and Hero’s eyes widened, a certain sadness in them that Aubrey had used to see all the time but which hadn’t been in their expressions in a while. A silence spread through the room, and Aubrey sighed, wishing she hadn’t mentioned it. She was about to apologize for bringing it up and ruining the mood of everyone’s evening, but then she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders and a gentle hand patting her back.

“That’s great, Aubrey,” said Kel with a kind smile and soft expression. “I hope you get it and help a lot of people.”

“Me too,” said Hero. “I think you’ll be great at that.”

“Thanks,” Aubrey mumbled, her face feeling suddenly warm.

“Well, I think this deserves a toast.” Kel stood up from his seat and poured some cups of coffee from the coffee maker for them.

Aubrey quirked an eyebrow at him. “We’re toasting coffee?”

“Yes,” he answered, completely unphased as if it was the most natural thing in the world. He held up his coffee cup. “To Aubrey, soon to be ‘World’s Greatest Nurse.’”

He winked at her, and Aubrey shook her head but bantered, holding up her own cup, “And to Kel—Welder of the Year,”

“Would you stop it with that?” he teased under his breath as a flush of red filled his cheeks. He shook his head and turned to Hero. “And to Hero—who can do anything!”

“And everything,” added Aubrey as Hero turned away from them blushing a bright red.

“You guys…” he mumbled.

“And let’s toast Mari too,” said Kel. “Happy Birthday, Mari!”

“Happy Birthday, Mari,” Hero and Aubrey replied with kind, bittersweet smiles.

As they took sips of their coffee, Aubrey’s lips puckered, and her face contorted as she resisted the urge to spit hers out. Even Hero grimaced.

“What in the world is this, Kel?” She reached for her water to try to rinse out the taste.

“Oh you’re never gonna believe it, but Orange Joe makes ground coffee now.”

“Why?” groaned Aubrey.

“You really should warn us first,” Hero quipped dryly with a slight smile, but Kel just shrugged.

“What? I thought it was pretty good.”

“I don’t know how you drink this garbage. It tastes like rotten oranges,” Aubrey bantered. “It would’ve been better if we toasted with broccoli juice or something.”

“I have some soda in the pantry. Let’s just use that.” Hero, always the peace-maker, got up from his seat and made his way to the kitchen with a gentle smile. Once he was gone, Kel finished off his cup of coffee and turned to her with a soft expression in his eyes.

“Hey Aubrey?”

“Yeah?” she asked, her brow furrowing.

“I think it’s really great that you want to be a psych nurse and everything.”

Aubrey sighed. “I don’t know if it’ll work out, Kel. I mean I just interviewed so…”

“It’ll work out,” he cut her off with a reassuring smile. “I know it will, and when it does, I know you’re gonna be great. I…”—he paused and glanced away from her—"I think you’re really great—at everything.”

Aubrey’s cheeks grew warm from the compliment. “Thank you, Kel. I think you’re—”

She didn’t get to finish that thought, however, as Kel wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into an unexpected but welcomed hug. Aubrey pressed her chin to his shoulder and gave him a pat on the back. She waited for him to let go of her, but he held her far longer than usual.

Finally, he whispered so quietly she almost couldn’t hear him. “Do a good job, okay? For all of us…”

Aubrey nodded. She contemplated pulling away from him, but he ran his hand through the ends of her long hair mumbling, “And Aubrey…Uh…I was wondering…”

“Yeah?” she shivered, in spite of herself.

“Uh…” he began again, and she could feel his hands begin to shake as they gently held onto her.

“Do you want diet or regular? I also have a few cherry—” Hero’s voice stopped abruptly. “Oh sorry… I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Kel and Aubrey quickly pulled away from each other. Aubrey could only hope she wasn’t blushing as much as she feared. Her cheeks burned, but she and Kel hurriedly talked over each other, reassuring Hero it was fine, and he wasn’t interrupting anything. Aubrey’s head reeled, but Kel seemed completely unphased, politely declining Hero’s soda and pouring himself another cup of Orange Joe.

As Kel stood up from his seat beside her on the sofa, Aubrey could have sworn that Hero shot her a knowing, somewhat teasing smile that made her stomach twist. She bit her lip and tried her best to push the thought away—nervously, reaching for her coffee cup in an attempt at nonchalance and unfortunately failing to remembered it was still full of Orange Joe until she had actually taken a sip. Aubrey grimaced at the bitter taste, but her cheeks burned as she watched Hero’s mouth twitched in the corners at her.

*-*-*

Aubrey wished she could say that was the last time she ever accidentally tried Orange Joe. It wasn’t, but both her and Hero did get much better at predicting whether or not Kel was trying to pawn the drink off onto them. It had a distinctively putrid citrusy odor that, eventually, made it much easier to identify. If she knew Kel, there would probably be a whole pitcher full of it at the “prom” he was putting together even though Hero had insisted multiple times that Sally was much too young for coffee.

It was nice to hear that Hero was going to get to come tonight, too. He had been so busy with his residency that they didn’t get to see too much of them these days. Even Kel who was his roommate said he was lucky if he occasionally managed to catch Hero as he was heading to the hospital when Kel himself was getting home from his third shift at the manufacturing plant where he worked. Hero promised them that he was happy, just very busy, and they respected his need for rest, even if it was starting to feel a little bit like her and Kel against the world again.

That reminded her, she ought to give him a call about the traffic—letting him know she was going to be late.

“Hey Kel,” she began, but his voice, muffled and staticky from what Aubrey presumed was a bad connection, cut her off.

“Hi Aubrey. What’s up?”

“Well, I’m on my way, but I’m stuck in traffic. You would not believe how many cars are out here right now.” Aubrey sighed wearily. “On their way to prom probably”

“Have you seen any limos?”

Aubrey laughed. “No, Kel. No limos. I really don’t think we even have those in Faraway Town.”

“That’s probably true.” He chuckled before changing the subject. “It’s no big deal if you’re late or anything. Just drive safely, and you can let yourself in through the fence to the backyard.”

“Oh, are you having it outside?”

Kel hummed. “Yeah, it was such a nice night that I thought it would be fun to dance out on the porch and stuff. I’ve been practicing my dancing, and I think I’m a lot better than the last time you danced with me so…”

Aubrey’s face grew suddenly hot, but she took a deep breath, trying and failing not to think of the last night Kel had danced with her…

*-*-*

“Okay, explain to me again how you came to win dancing lessons?” quipped Aubrey, quirking an eyebrow at Kel, but he merely shrugged at her.

“Well I bought a bunch of raffle tickets because I wanted this ceramic chicken.” He paused before adding hurriedly with a sheepish smile, “And, you know, to support the hospital and everything too.”

Aubrey sighed and shook her head, but Kel didn’t seem to notice. It was very nice of Kel to come with her to her hospital’s charity benefit. They were raising money to build a new wing which would mean more beds in the juvenile behavioral health ward where she worked as a nurse. She had told Kel that the gala was mostly for the really big donors, and she was just inviting him for his company so he shouldn’t feel obligated to donate anything. Even so, it was sweet of him to try to buy some raffle tickets for some of the less expensive items.

A smile twitched in the corners of her mouth. It was just like Kel to do something thoughtful like that—especially for a dumb reason like wanting a ceramic chicken he could probably buy for himself half-as-cheap at a local home goods store.

“I was going to put all the tickets in the drawing for the basket with the chicken,” Kel prattled on. “But then some of the other people were giving me these weird looks, so I started to put them in the drawing for some of the other raffle baskets too, and I guess I won the one with the dancing lessons.” With a slight shrug of his shoulders, Kel frowned disappointedly. “Didn’t win the chicken though. I was pretty bummed about that.”

“What would you even do with a ceramic chicken?” Aubrey teased dryly.

“I don’t know, but I’d probably get more use out of it than dance lessons.”

A chuckle escaped Aubrey’s mouth as she barely stifled a laugh—turning back to the stove where she was frying some potatoes as they waited for the lasagna they were making for dinner to be finished cooking in the oven. It wouldn’t be nearly as good as Hero’s, but he was far too busy with his residency to cook for even himself these days. They were making this meal to surprise him when he got home and to celebrate his first weekend off in months.

“Do you want to take them with me?” asked Kel as he absent-mindedly stirred the pudding they were making for dessert.

Aubrey tilted her head at him. “The dance lessons?”

“Yeah. It’s for two people, and I didn’t really know who else to bring.”

“What about Hero?” She didn’t realize how silly that suggestion sounded until Kel laughed.

“Hero is a great dancer already, and he’s super busy right now anyway.”

With a conceding shrug of her shoulders, Aubrey sighed. “Isn’t there someone else you’d rather bring, Kel?”

“Nope,” he replied immediately, clearly not understanding the meaning behind her words. “Why would there be?”

“Well…you know…some people think that dancing can have a more romantic connotation, so I was just thinking that if you were interested in someone you might want to bring…” Her voice trailed as she tilted her head confused and inquisitively at the unreadable expression on Kel’s face.

“Oh…uh…well…” Kel chuckled though he rubbed his hand sheepishly across the back of his neck. “Actually, I’d rather take you, but if you don’t want to come, you can just say...”

“It’s fine, Kel.” With a shrug, Aubrey stared down at the potatoes, put the lid over the pan, and turned the stove down to low heat so they could simmer. Her mouth twitched into a bantering smile. “I just meant, you should probably be careful going around asking other girls to go dancing with you. They might get the wrong idea.”

“Is it really that much of a romantic thing?” asked Kel blinking at her.

Aubrey shrugged again. “It is in the movies.”

“But that’s just the movies. They make everything romantic, especially when it doesn’t have to be. Like how they always make it seem like prom is the best night of your life or when the couple dances together there one time, they’re suddenly desperately in love forever.” Kel laughed, but Aubrey frowned.

“I didn’t mean it like—” She huffed, shaking her head. “And what would you know about prom anyway, you barely even went to ours?”

“I went to enough of it to know that it wasn’t super magical or anything, and yeah, I danced with a few girls, but it’s not like I’m just pining for them forever now.” Kel paused, chuckling to himself, and Aubrey’s face flushed but her brow furrowed. Was he making fun of her?

“That’s not the same thing. For some girls it’s different. They romanticize it in their heads”—she sighed—“not me but…”

“That’s because you’re a cynic,” teased Kel.

“And you’re a moron—especially if you think that another girl wouldn’t take your invitation to dancing lessons in a romantic way.”

Kel just shrugged and admitted, “I don’t get it.”

“Well…what if you had danced with that girl, the one you actually wanted to take as your prom date? Don’t you think that would’ve been special?”

“I didn’t get to dance with her—ever actually, but I don’t think it would’ve changed anything. A dance is just dance, isn’t it?” He tilted his head as a bantering smile tugged at his lips. “You’re acting like if I just started dancing with you right now, you’d—?”

“K—Kel?” Aubrey’s breath hitched as he slipped his arms around her waist. “What are you doing?”

“Proving a point,” he insisted with a shrug.

Aubrey huffed. “There isn’t even any music.”

“Oh.” Kel absentmindedly tilted his head before pulling out his phone, presumably choosing a song to play. As the song’s intro began to play, he set his phone on the counter and held out his hand to her.

“Can I have this dance?” he asked with a playfully melodramatic bow, and Aubrey sighed with a somewhat affectionate roll of her eyes.

“Fine,” she sighed. “Whatever will get you to focus on cooking again.”

Kel smiled brightly as he wrapped his arms around her waist again. As he met her eyes, she looked away abruptly—clearing her throat as she snaked her arms around his neck. He was so close to her. Her cheeks felt warm, and she swallowed hard, pushing the thought away. ‘It’s just Kel,’ she reminded herself.

He began swaying—Aubrey shook her head—off tempo with the music. “You really can use those dance lessons,” she teased though there was a certain, uncharacteristic shakiness that seeped into her words. She pursed her lips and mentally kicked herself. What was wrong with her all of a sudden?

She could almost feel Kel’s chuckle reverberating in his chest. “Yeah, well I guess it’s good I won them then.” He smiled at her, and as he met her eyes, Aubrey shuddered in spite of herself.

Kel pulled her closer to him—almost pressing his cheek against hers and began to quietly sing along to the music. Aubrey’s face flushed. Knowing Kel he probably wasn’t even aware that he was singing, but she could feel his warm breath, those affectionate words almost whispered in her ear. For the life of her she couldn’t even begin to guess why Kel had picked what was probably one of the most romantic songs in the universe. The slow crooning of the melody alone screamed romance, but there was so much devotion, so much longing in the lyrics—and to hear them in Kel’s voice... Aubrey inhaled sharply—hoping her face wasn’t nearly as red as she feared.

“How”—her voice hitched, and she pulled away from him—“How do you even know this song?”

Kel just shrugged. “Hero showed it to me. He likes all those old songs, you know? And I thought it would be good for this.” He paused. “Why? Do you like it?”

“It’s fine,” shrugged Aubrey though she found she couldn’t look at Kel for some reason.

When she finally met his gaze again, there was something so warm, so gentle in his expression, and his dark eyes seemed to glisten with an emotion that she couldn’t begin to describe but which made her heart pound all the same. He lifted his hand from her waist and gently pressed his palm to her cheek.

“If this was a movie, this is probably the point when I’d say something corny like…” Kel paused, blinking at her with heavy-lidded eyes before he continued with a gentle sincerity that made her breath catch in her throat, ”‘You are so beautiful.’” He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and as his eyes fluttered closed, he sighed, “‘I’ve wanted this for a long time.’”

Aubrey swallowed hard. She tried to frown even though she was sure her face was bright red from that…that pining underscoring his voice. ‘This is just a game,’ she reminded herself—one that Kel seemed to be getting extremely into, but a game all the same. Still... the way his voice faltered, the earnestness in his eyes made it easy to forget.

“You’ve been watching too many romance movies with Hero…” she quipped, but her voice wavered.

Kel chuckled lightly. “Maybe…”

His hand softly stroked the side of her cheek until the tips of his long fingers began to tangle in her hair. She shivered as she took a long, shaky breath. His lips parted slightly as his mouth relaxed. She bit her lip and watched as Kel did the same.

“Aubrey…” he whispered as she tangled her trembling hand in the hair at the nape of his neck and gently pulled him towards her in slow, deliberate movements that didn’t feel like her own. His long, dark eyelashes fluttered. He was close enough to her now that she could almost feel them against her skin.

Her heart pounded. Her hands shook. He hovered in front of her mere inches away from her face. When he whispered her name again, she realized they had stopped dancing.

As Kel’s eyes fluttered closed, he tilted his head and cupped her face with his hands. His breath was warm against her skin, so close Aubrey could almost taste the coffee and citrus lingering from that awful Orange Joe he loved so much. As she began to lean closer to him, her hand curled around the unruly strands of his hair, and she pressed her palm to the back of his head—pulling him in. Closer. Closer.

He began to lean forward. That space between them was almost non-existent now. Aubrey froze—unable to move, unable to breath. Her heartbeat raced, and she could almost feel Kel’s heart pounding as he stopped, a breath away from her. She gripped the soft fabric of his shirt and shut her eyes tightly. Waiting. Waiting until…

BEEP! BEEP! The sound of the oven timer rang through the living room. Aubrey exhaled deeply though her cheeks flushed. What had just happened?

Kel startled, pulling away from her abruptly. “Oh! The lasagna!” he exclaimed with a bright smile, seemingly, completely unphased by what had just happened, by the fact that they had almost…

Aubrey inhaled sharply, then took a few deep breaths to calm herself down. She bit down hard on her lip. It was just a game to him. Of course it was.

“Alright fine, Kel…” she laughed it off with as much of a frown as she could muster as the music stopped. Her racing heartbeat and wavering tone of voice didn’t seemed to get the memo, however. “You’re right.”

His face beamed. “Seriously?” He chuckled, playfully poking her in the arm. “See, I told you that you didn’t miss out on anything at the prom.”

Aubrey sighed—willing that blush she could still feel in her face away. “Yeah… It’s just a dance—nothing necessarily romantic about that. But you know I agreed with you from the beginning, right? So don’t get too excited about it. I just meant a lot of other girls might get the wrong impression.” ‘Especially if you dance with them like that,’ she mentally added, barely managing to stop herself before the words tumbled out of her mouth.

“Yeah, alright. You know, honestly, I actually kinda see your point now too.” Kel tilted his head and chuckled breathily though his expression was unreadable. Aubrey’s heart raced in spite of herself as she tried to push these thoughts, these feelings, whatever they were away for good.

*-*-*

Aubrey let out a long and heavy sigh. She could feel the blush in her cheeks even now just thinking about it. She hadn’t done a very good job of pushing the memory away. Even though they had never talked about that dance, about that almost-kiss ever again, Aubrey had mulled it over in her mind more times than she could count, until she could almost believe that she had been imagining things, that she had just gotten caught up in the music and dancing and that nothing had actually almost happened. But…—Aubrey sighed—the way he had looked at her…

She swallowed hard and pushed the thought away. This was Kel. Kel—dopey, happy-go-lucky Kel who used to eat spray cheese directly out of the can until she and Hero staged an intervention to ask him to stop and who once got a popsicle stick stuck up his nose because he wanted to see if he could touch his brain with it. Granted he was seven at the time, but still… this was Kel, and Kel was…was…

Aubrey sighed. Kel was sweet and thoughtful. He’d do anything to make his friends and family happy, and he loved making people laugh. He could make friends anywhere he went, and he always found things to smile about. And yeah, he could be awkward sometimes, airheaded, oblivious, and occasionally stubborn, but he had a big heart and even if his words didn’t always come out the way he wanted them to, she never doubted how much he cared. He was a great friend—her best friend, probably if she was being honest, but she wasn’t about to waste another minute of her life sitting around analyzing whether she may or may not have almost kissed him once. And she especially wasn’t going to sit around analyzing whether or not she should have or, worst of all, whether she had wanted to.

“You will dance with me again, won’t you?” asked Kel’s voice through the phone. “I gave those dancing lessons to my parents as a gift, but Hero was helping me practice a little bit, so I think I’ve gotten a lot better.”

“Uh…yeah…sure Kel…” stumbled Aubrey trying her best not to think anything of it.

“Okay, great! I’ve got to go now, but I’ll see you soon, okay? Bye.”

“…Bye…” mumbled Aubrey. She let out a long and heavy sigh, shaking her head and mentally kicking herself for getting so flustered about Kel of all people. It was nothing, clearly…given the way he could mention it so nonchalantly like that. She should just stop thinking about it and worrying that it was something that it wasn’t.

She pushed the thought away—trying her best to think about something else, anything else. What was everyone going to wear tonight? Sally would probably look adorable all dressed up in party dress or a costume if she wanted to be an actual princess—though Aubrey supposed Kel had specifically used the word “prom” rather than “ball” so Sally might not want a princess dress. Would Kel and Hero go all out and rent tuxes or just wear nice suits? Maybe Kel would bring back that bright pink tie from their prom…

Aubrey stopped. That tie. She hadn’t thought about it in years until it got brought up a couple of weeks ago when she and Kel were going shopping at the outlet mall with Sally.

*-*-*

“They’re so pretty,” Sally sighed wistfully with a little twirl as they passed some of the clothing racks filled with sparkly prom dresses. “I can’t wait ‘til I’m old enough to go to the prom.” She giggled and squeezed Aubrey’s hand. “What was it like? Did you get to wear a pretty dress like that, Aubbie?”

Aubrey smiled. Sally had given her that nickname years ago when she was a little toddler who struggled with her “r”s, and it made it happy to think that it had somehow stuck all these years. Her smile quickly faded however, as she awkwardly replied, “Well…Sally…I didn’t actually go to my prom.”

“Oh…” Sally’s eyes widened sadly, and she tilted her head. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” she reassured her, giving her a gentle smile and a reassuring pat on the head. “Your brother went though—to part of it. He wore this bright pink tie.”

Kel laughed and playfully poked her in the arm. “You remember my tie?”

Aubrey’s face flushed, but she bantered. “It was kind of hard to forget. Why’d you pick a color like that anyway?”

“Oh uh…” Chuckling, he scratched the back of his neck. “I never told you?”

“No…” Aubrey quirked an eyebrow at him, but Sally giggled.

“I wanna hear about it.”

“Well, okay, just for you Sally,” Kel’s expression softened, but he shrugged his shoulders. “But I’m warning you, it’s…kind of silly now that I’m thinking about it…” He sighed. “There was this girl…She was really amazing. I wanted to ask her to prom, but I was really afraid she would say ‘no’ so I kind of chickened out. But she really liked pink so…I thought maybe she’d like that pink tie. Kind of silly, right?” He laughed it off, but his cheeks flushed.

“Did she like it?” asked Sally, curiously blinking up at her older brother.

Kel’s mouth curved into a smile, and—Aubrey blushed—she could have almost sworn he glanced over at her when he said, “Yeah. I think she did…”

“You know, you never told me—that girl, did she go with someone else?” The question slipped out before Aubrey could stop it. She had spent years wondering, worrying if she had ruined Kel’s prom with her own problems or if he was nursing a broken heart of his own that had nothing to do with her grief. It was probably selfish to be bringing it up now after all these years, but she couldn’t give up the opportunity to find out for sure if Kel would have left the prom early anyway, even if she had been there.

“Nope,” Kel shook his head with a sigh, and Aubrey swallowed hard.

“Did you get to dance with her, then?”

A smile twitched in the corners of Kel’s mouth—something unreadable but undeniably affectionate flashing across his eyes. “Eventually…”

“Was she a good dancer?” giggled Sally.

“Better than me.” Kel shrugged, but he reached out to take Sally’s hand and gave his sister a little twirl. “But I am getting better.”

He flashed Aubrey a teasing smile, and she shook her head at him as she stifled a laugh. She knew it was a sign that this conversation was over, but it nagged at the back of her brain for the rest of the day as they absentmindedly wandered from store to store, eventually stopping for soft pretzels at the food court and surprising Sally with a bright yellow bow for her hair. There was no more talk of prom.

When it started storming, they decided to call it a day and headed back to Faraway Town. It wasn’t long before Sally fell asleep in the back seat of her car, exhausted from the long and exciting day of shopping. Aubrey dreaded the silence left by the absence of Sally and Kel’s cheerful prattling, but she was grateful for the opportunity to focus on driving rather than on mulling Kel’s words over in her head. That guilt she had been feeling ever since he had had to skip out on their prom on her account was suddenly fresh again, gnawing at her, getting harder and harder to push away.

“Hey…uh…Aubrey? Are you okay?” asked Kel quietly enough so as not to wake up the napping Sally. “You’ve been kind of quiet…”

“Well Sally’s asleep Kel,” she replied with a tilt of her head as she glanced in her rearview mirror.

“Yeah, but I meant before that…Ever since we were in that department store…”

Aubrey took a deep breath and tried to muster a, “Yeah…I’m just…”

She stopped abruptly. Even if she didn’t take her eyes off the road, she could almost picture Kel’s reassuring smile, encouraging her that she could tell him anything. Maybe it would be best to ask him now when she didn’t have to look in his face...

Before she could decide, however, she pulled into the driveway of Kel’s parents’ house. Grabbing a nearby umbrella, Kel got out of the car and gently lifted a sleeping Sally, draping his jacket over her head so her face wouldn’t get wet from his attempts to carry her and the umbrella.

Kel fidgeted until he was shielding Sally completely with the umbrella, getting himself soaked in the process. Aubrey sighed and shook her head with a somewhat affectionate smile. He was going to be sopping wet by the time he got back to the car, but if Aubrey was being honest, she didn’t mind. It was sweet how much Kel cared about his sister. Aubrey supposed that was really just Kel—he always thought about everybody else and how to make them happy. He’d give a stranger his umbrella if they needed it, even if that meant he’d get himself soaked. It was something Aubrey admired most about him.

Her face felt suddenly warm, and she pushed the thought away, watching as Kel handed Sally off to his mom on the porch. She gave Aubrey a bright smile and a cheerful wave as Kel rushed back across yard. Aubrey waved back.

Sure enough, when Kel got back inside the car, he was dripping water. He ran his hand through his sopping hair.

“Sorry, Aubrey. I’ll clean it up when you drop me off,” he insisted with a sheepish smile, but Aubrey waved her hand.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s just water.”

Chuckling, Kel’s mouth twitched into a lopsided grin, and he shrugged his shoulders, “Okay, now that Sally’s inside…what’s up? Something’s bugging you.”

“I’m fine,” Aubrey said, but she knew Kel knew her too well to believe that.

He sighed, a look of concern passing over his eyes. “Are you sure? Is it something I said…?”

“No…” She bit her lip. “It’s not you. It’s just…”

“You’ll feel better if you just tell me. I know you will,” he teased with a kind smile.

Aubrey huffed. He was right, of course, but she didn’t really want to admit that.

“Why did you leave our prom?”

Kel’s brow furrowed, and his eyes widened in confusion. “What?”

“You know…was it for that girl you wanted to take but didn’t end up asking or was it for…?” She stopped and cleared her throat.

“Well…actually…” Kel stumbled, his face flushing. Aubrey sighed guiltily. She didn’t mean to fluster him like this—it wasn’t fair.

“I just…I know it’s none of my business, and I feel bad asking but I just don’t want to be reason that you had to skip out on our prom, you know? So if you left because you were heartbroken or…”

“Oh,” Kel interrupted. Clearing his throat, he rubbed his hand across the nape of his neck. “Uh…I wasn’t heartbroken or anything, but…yeah, I did leave because of that girl—the one I wanted to ask…”

Aubrey sighed. She didn’t feel as relieved to hear this as she had always imagined she would. She felt almost…sad…

“Do you regret it?” she asked quietly, staring at her hands. “Leaving her there at the prom?”

“What?”

“You know, you could’ve stayed. You didn’t have to miss out on it, especially not to just waste the whole night sitting on my porch…” She cleared her throat though she twisted her hands around the steering wheel, staring intently at the swaying windshield wipers. “Do you ever wish that…things had been different?”

“I mean…I guess sometimes, maybe, but only to wish that you had been there and that everyone had been there to come with us.” Sighing bittersweetly, Kel paused. “Why? Do you?”

Aubrey sighed, adjusting her grip on the steering wheel even though the car was still parked. “Sometimes…” she admitted. “But for the same reason as you, I guess, and…” Her voice trailed, and she could feel Kel shift next to her.

“And what?”

“I’ve just…” Her face flushed as she took a deep breath. “I always felt guilty for making you miss it. I really am sorry about that.”

Kel chuckled lightly and placed his hand on her shoulder until she turned to look at him. “Aubrey, don’t worry about it. I already told you. I wanted to spend it with you.”

His smile was warm, and the look in his eyes was so tender that Aubrey’s hands began to shake as her cheeks blushed rose. She turned away from him, and he shrugged his shoulders and admitted, “I think about that night a lot, actually…in a good way. I don’t have regrets.”

He gently pushed a piece of hair out of her face, and Aubrey shivered but not from the cold and wet of the rain on his fingers. “Aubrey, I…There’s actually…” He stopped and pulled his hand away from her abruptly as water began to drip into her face. “Oh shoot. I’m sorry,” he stumbled, panicking over the damp streaks in her hair.

“It’s okay, Kel…” Aubrey sighed—politely failing to mention that his panicking over dripping water everywhere was just spraying water and making everything wetter. “Let’s just…get you home.”

“Okay…” Kel nodded, but his face was flushed. Aubrey was sure hers was bright red. She could only hope he wouldn’t notice.

*-*-*

Taking a deep breath, Aubrey parked her car on the street in front of Kel’s house. This was probably the worst possible thing she could have been thinking of right now. Why did she do this to herself?

She sighed heavily, burying her face in her hands before she composed herself, pushing all those thoughts away. She didn’t even know where they were coming from, and even if she did, now was definitely not the time to be thinking about any of that. She could almost guarantee that Kel certainly wasn’t. There was no way he was sitting around wondering what would have happened if the timer hadn’t gone off when they were dancing or if water hadn’t started to drip into her face when he was running his hand through her hair. These were just things Kel did without thinking—it didn’t mean anything more to him than that they were just friends, so why should it mean anything more to her? And…perhaps more importantly, why would she even want it to? Why would she want affection for him that would never be returned?  

Her shoes clicked across the pavement as she made her way down the sidewalk and up the driveway to the house where Kel lived with his brother, at least until Hero finished his final year of residency and paid off enough student loans to afford his own place. There was the faint sound of music echoing from the backyard and lights shimmering from what she assumed was probably their decorated porch. As soon as she walked through the gate to the yard, however, she realized she was wrong. There was a beautiful trellis canopy covered in Christmas lights with twinkling icicle lights hanging from the ceiling—underneath it was Hero’s record player, playing classic love songs.

Aubrey froze just staring at it—how it beautiful it was. She didn’t even notice Kel until he chuckled beside her.  

“Aubrey, you made it!” He paused, his expression softening. “You look beautiful. I’m glad I finally got to see your prom dress.”

Aubrey’s face flushed, and she curled her toes in her shoes both at the compliment,  and at the fact that Kel didn’t look too shabby himself dressed in his dark suit with combed hair and shiny dress shoes. “You look nice too, Kel. I see you’re wearing that tie—” she tried to tease him, but her voice cracked. Kel, however, just chuckled lightly.

“Oh yeah…well, you know…” With a slight shrug of his shoulders, he paused fidgeting with the bright pink tie around his neck. “Do you like it?”

Aubrey somehow managed a playful roll of her eyes. “It’s great, Kel.”

“I got you this,” he exclaimed excitedly, holding out a plastic container with a corsage inside.

“Wow, thank you,” she stumbled as he helped her slip it onto her wrist. “You really did go all out, huh?”

Kel hummed and nodded enthusiastically, but Aubrey’s brow furrowed as she glanced around. “So, uh…where are Hero and Sally?”

A faint flush of rose filled Kel’s cheeks. “Oh. Uh…well…about that. They’re not here.”

“Why not?”

“It wasn’t really a lie,” he tripped over his words. “I was just trying to surprise you, but I…I didn’t do this for Sally…”

As he met her eyes, Aubrey shivered and swallowed hard. Kel chuckled sheepishly. “I knew you were kind of upset that you missed your prom, and so I thought I’d make you your own prom. Surprise!”

Aubrey looked around the yard—at the twinkling lights, the trellis, Hero’s record player, then at Kel, all dressed up in his best suit with his pink tie, the kindest look in his eyes and the brightest, beaming smile on his face.

“You...”—she inhaled sharply—“You did all this…for me?”

“Yeah…Is it overboard? I was worried it might be a little overboard.”

Aubrey could scarcely put coherent sentences together—her head was spinning. Kel…Kel had done all of this…for her…? “Why?”

“Why?” Kel repeated with wide eyes. “Well…because it’s a lot…with the music and the fancy clothes and the decorations…”

“No, uh—” she stumbled. “Why did you do this for me, Kel?”

“Oh…well I thought you were upset about our prom ever since we went to the outlet mall, and I thought maybe a ‘do-over’ prom would make you happy.”

Aubrey’s blush deepened as she stared down at her feet. “You…you really didn’t have to do this Kel. Especially since I’m the one who basically ruined your prom in the first place.”

“Aubrey…” He pressed his palm to her cheek—smiling, waiting until she finally looked up at him. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you this whole time. You didn’t ruin my prom—not at all. I wanted to spend it with you. I know I probably should’ve just asked you, but I don’t know, I was just…I had never felt so close to anybody in my whole life, and I thought you were so amazing, I didn’t know what to do with myself…” He paused, chuckling awkwardly with a sheepish shrug of his shoulders.

“Wait…you…you…” she stammered trying to make sense of what she was hearing. He couldn’t have possibly just said…? “You wanted to take me to our prom? I’m the girl?”

Kel’s cheeks blushed red, but he nodded. “You’re the girl.” Aubrey could only blink at him as he chuckled lightly, awkwardly again and joked as he fidgeted with his hands, “You know…if this was a movie, this is probably the part where I’d say something really corny like ‘You’ve always been the girl.’”

As he met her eyes, Aubrey froze. His words may have been corny, but the look in his eyes was so sincere, so…affectionate. She swallowed hard—sure her face must be bright red by now, but she couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She tried her best to take a deep breath and shakily tease him but her voice was wavering, breathy—it almost didn’t sound like her. “Yeah…that’s—that’s really corny…”

“Yeah, I’m no Hero…” Kel chuckled self-deprecatingly. “I’m really not good at any of this stuff…” He bit his lip and looked back up at her with a gaze that made her shiver. “But I really do think you’re great—probably the most amazing person I’ve ever met. I’m sorry for not saying it before.”

“Kel, I…” Her voice hitched. “I had no idea you felt this way…”

“That’s okay,” shrugged Kel. “To be honest, I didn’t even know I felt this way for a long time. It took me a while to figure it out…I was just kind of dense, I guess.” He laughed with a sheepish grin. “When I finally mentioned it to Hero, he gave me this look like ‘it’s about time…’ Then he was the one who was really encouraging me to tell you, but I just never really could figure out how and…then I was worried I was going to mess up our friendship and I didn’t want to make things awkward…But I guess this is kinda awkward, huh? All the movies make it look so easy…”

Aubrey blushed. If one of them should be feeling dense right now, it really should be her. Kel was…Was he really…?

“Listen, uh…you’re really quiet right now. You don’t have to say anything. We can just pretend that I never said anything,” he began to ramble quickly, nervously. “I didn’t want to put you on the spot, I just—I thought that was something you should probably know about me, er, about you, er how I feel about you because I—I really like you and I think you are really great and if you ever talk to me again after this, I would really like to take you to dinner and…”

Aubrey could only blink at him, unable to get a word in edgewise as he let out a long heavy sigh. “And I am totally messing this up…” Sighing heavily again, he ran his hand through his hair, before he met her eyes. “Aubrey…I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be…” Aubrey interrupted, reaching up to stroke Kel’s cheek with her hand. “I know it’s not an easy thing to say…”

“No, but you don’t understand. I tried to practice and everything. I was going to say all kinds of really nice stuff like that you’re probably the most important person in the world to me, and I don’t know what I’d do without you. After Mari and Sunny and Basil…”—his voice hitched—”Things were so dark and so sad…it was probably one of the worst times in my life, and I felt so alone, but then, you found me…and you showed me that even if this world without them is always going to be a little sadder than it was, that doesn’t mean that there aren’t still good things in it too. And a lot of those good things were because of you—when we tease each other and we’re throwing popcorn at each other or I’m wiping frosting on your nose or splashing water at you at the beach—when we laugh about corny movies or dance in the kitchen or when we just talk for hours and completely forget about the time…or when your face turns all red when you’re trying not to smile or the way your nose wrinkles when you laugh. And you”—he cupped her face in his hands—“You’re the best thing.”

“Kel—I…I…” Aubrey began to trip over her words, unsure what she even wanted to say.

Kel sighed, his face blushing red as he pulled his hands away from her, and mumbled, “I don’t even know if that makes sense…”

“No, it…it does,” Aubrey said with a reassuring smile. “I…I completely…” She stopped. “Back then, I…I never thought I could ever be happy again, but you showed me I could be, that there’s still…happiness…” Her voice trailed, but Kel wrapped his arms around her and pulled into a tight hug.  

“Aubrey…I’m…I’m so glad…I…”—Kel’s voice hitched—“I just want you to be happy. I want you to be so, so happy. I just never thought I’d ever be lucky enough that you could be happy with me.”

“I am happy, Kel,” Aubrey whispered, unable to think, unable to breath. Something she couldn’t even begin to describe seemed to propel her forward—her whole body almost moving on its own as she pulled back from him just enough to close her eyes and brush her lips against his.

“A—Aubrey?” stumbled Kel with a look more akin to having been whacked on the back of the head rather than kissed.

“Kel, uh…sorry…” she began staring off over his shoulder. “I just um…”

“No, I’m sorry, I just…I wasn’t ready.” Aubrey’s eyes widened, but Kel hurriedly added, “Ready as in prepared not as in ready like I—I didn’t want…because I—I do…”

A playful smile tugged at Aubrey’s lips, but she was blushing too much to actually tease him.

“I—I…” Kel began to stumble again, and Aubrey could have sworn she heard him mumble, “Oh forget it…” under his breath before he finally just threw his arms around her neck and kissed her. His hands tangled in her hair as hers gripped the collar of his suit pulling him even closer to her. She could taste that sickeningly sweet Orange Joe on his breath, but she didn’t even care.

When they finally broke apart from each other, red-faced and breathless. Kel chuckled teasingly, “I guess I should probably ask you to dance now, huh?”

As that familiar song began to play, Kel wrapped his arms around her, and Aubrey slipped her hands around his neck. They swayed in time to the music, and neither one of them could hold back their smiles.

As Aubrey nestled into Kel’s chest, she could feel him chuckling lightly to himself.

“What?” she asked quietly.  

“Nothing it’s just…” Kel pulled away just enough to look at her and meet her eyes as his mouth twitched into a soft, playful smile. “Maybe it really is true what everyone says about prom after all…”

[love-island-the-player]

When MC takes all the money on Day 13

[clara-licht]

You Belong With Me

Part of Best of Me Series

Summary: 5 times (Y/n) Stark felt jealous and 1 time it was Peter’s turn. (set before Just Out of Touch, can be read as a standalone)

Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

Word Count: 4.1k

Warning: mention of blood and maggots

Note: after a whole year, it’s finally here! Here’s another story set in the world of Just Out of Touch! This story can be read as a standalone, but reading JOOT might give you a bit more context. But if you haven’t read it, spoiler for JOOT, Hecate is (y/n)’s vigilante persona. (Y/n)’s pronouns are she/they, where they is specifically used when they’re out as Hecate. Since this story focuses on (y/n) and not Hecate, I used she/her throughout the story. In future stories both she and they will be used when there are both (y/n) and Hecate. Without further ado, enjoy the story!

Title Inspo: Taylor Swift - You Belong With Me

Best of Me Masterlist | Marvel Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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1: Compliment

——————————

(Y/n) side-glanced at Peter who was pacing back and forth in her room. She let him mumble and curse at himself while she laid on her bed, bored.

"Oh I'm so stupid! How could I have done that?! Ugh, she must hate me now!"

She rolled her eyes. "You're not stupid, Pete. You're in STEM school by scholarship for a reason, you know."

Peter stopped his pacing to look at (y/n) with his big doe eyes and panicked expression. "That's got nothing to do with this!" He exclaimed.

Rolling her eyes again, she asked, "What did you do again?"

He groaned and banged his head on her bed, mumbling something.

"What?"

"I complimented her skirt."

If she had to roll her eyes again, her eyeballs would probably be stuck that way.

"What's so bad about that?" She asked.

Peter didn't even lift his head from the soft duvet. "I sounded like a pervert, (y/n)!" He groaned. "She totally knew I've been checking her out the entire year!"

(Y/n) shook her head exasperatedly. "You couldn't have known that. You just complimented one piece of clothing, Peter. She wouldn't know you've been staring at her clothes every day."

Peter only let out another groan and turned over, pulling the duvet to cover his face. "No, she definitely knows!"

"What did you say, exactly?"

"I said the color suits her and asked if it's new…"

"…So?"

He removed the duvet and stared incredulously at her. "What do you mean, so?"

(Y/n) shrugged. "I don't see what's so bad about that. I mean, it's flattering?"

"Oh, you don't get it!" Peter threw his head back. "I asked if it's new! Meaning that I already know her clothes and noticed that I've never seen that skirt before!"

"Now that you said it like that, you do sound like a pervert."

"UGH!"

Chuckling, (y/n) lifted the duvet and removed it from Peter, eyes glowing soft blue. "Calm down, Spidey. What did she say?"

"I don't know. I ran away afterwards."

Her chuckle turned into a full-on laugh as Peter turned away with a pout, hoping to hide his flaming face.

In between her laugh, she shuffled closer to the boy and ran her fingers gently between his hair. "Well, if it was me, I wouldn't think much about it. I would just be flattered that you think a skirt looks good on me."

Still pouting, Peter mumbled, "But it's not you."

Her laughter ceased, replaced with a slightly sorrowful smile.

"But it's not me." She agreed.

——————————

2: Jokes

——————————

"What's taking him so long?" Happy grumbled.

"It's only been 10 minutes."

"10 minutes too long!"

(Y/n) only hummed and looked out the window. “It’s high school, Happy. It’s where he socializes with his friends, of course it’s going to take time.”

“Not if I can help it.” He muttered.

Shaking her head fondly, her eyes swept through the entrance of Midtown High, trying to see if the young vigilante was anywhere near them. Today was a scheduled lab day and she volunteered to pick him up with Happy. Since she already finished any lessons she had for the day Tony had let her go.

As she kept watch, she couldn’t help but feel a little bittersweet. Sure, she enjoyed her studies online, but she knew that she was missing that typical high school experience. Going to classes, eating lunch in the cafeteria, walking home with friends… But she was also aware that it was all for her safety.

The woes of having a famous father.

(Y/n) was shaken off her thoughts when she finally noticed Ned among the students in front of the school. If Ned was there, then Peter was surely not far.

Sure enough, she could spot a familiar tuft of brown hair right behind Ned.

And apparently he wasn’t alone.

Peter was talking with a girl facing his way. (Y/n) couldn’t see her face but she had a good idea of who she was.

Peter had a shy smile on his lips and his cheeks were nearly blossoming, if (y/n) could say so. In true Peter fashion, he seemed to be stumbling upon his words and spoke a mile per minute. The girl seems as though she didn’t mind as she was laughing along. And yet, unlike the oblivious Peter she was used to, this Peter looked at the girl as if she was a goddess sent to the earth to absolve every sinner from their fated doom. This Peter smiled at her as if she handpicked each star to light up the darkest night.

His darkest night.

(Y/n) unconsciously took a sharp breath when she saw the girl laughing so hard she had to hold onto Peter to stabilize herself. The way she clutched Peter’s arm and the color on Peter’s cheeks…

“There he is! Call him, tell him to hurry up.”

“Just… Just give him a minute, will you, Happy?” She mumbled, eyes never leaving Peter. She was unaware of Happy glancing at her with a frown on his forehead. Like her, he did notice that Peter had a girl with him. He just hadn’t yet connected it to why (y/n) looked off.

As (y/n) sat there looking at the window, the tight feeling in her chest kept getting more painful as time went. On one hand, she would love to get out of the car and go to him, replacing the girl’s position beside Peter. But on the other hand, she knew that things didn’t work that way.

‘He’s happy, that’s all that matters, right?’

She was so lost in her thoughts that she didn’t notice Peter already saying his goodbyes and approaching the car. It was only when Peter sat beside her that she was shaken off her trails.

“Hey, you good?” He asked.

(Y/n) smiled, a hint of sorrow that Peter didn’t notice on her lips.

“Of course, why wouldn’t I be?”

——————————

3: Flirt

——————————

The silence was quite awkward, if (y/n) must say.

Tony was out on a conference of some sort in Japan, and as much as (y/n) would love to visit the country, her father couldn’t literally pay her to sit through that conference with him. While she would inherit the company one day, she’d avoid any stuffy meetings if she could.

That day was another scheduled lab day for Peter, though. Tony had forgotten to tell him to reschedule, so he still went to the tower. Peter was going to leave until (y/n) called Tony and he told Peter to just mess around in the lab.

And there they were. In Tony Stark’s personal lab. Just the two of them (along with Dum-E).

(Y/n) could tell something was off with Peter. The first sign was when he said he would go home when he heard Tony wasn’t there. Usually he’d just stay and watch a movie with her. And now he was all quiet while fiddling with his webshooters.

Of course, one could say that perhaps he was focused on fixing or upgrading it, but (y/n) knew that there was nothing wrong with his webshooters and they already installed the upgrade a couple weeks ago. They hadn’t come up with new ideas since then.

“Hey, Pete?”

“Hm?” He didn’t even look up.

“Is there anything in your mind?”

“Huh? No, nothing.” Peter mumbled, still fiddling with his webshooters.

(Y/n) frowned. Something was not right, indeed.

A few minutes passed with silence between them. (Y/n) kept sneaking glances at Peter and Peter kept toying around with the shooters on his wrist. He wasn’t even doing anything. His eyes were unfocused and he was deep in thoughts.

Heaving a sigh, (y/n) removed the goggles she had on. She was doing a project for SI, but it could wait.

“Okay, let’s talk about this,” she said.

Peter finally looked up and stared at her, confused. “Talk about what?”

“Well, this,” she said again, gesturing at Peter.

“...you’re gesturing at all of me.”

“Of course I’m gesturing at all of you! You’re acting weird!”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are! You’re so quiet and you kept playing with your webshooters! Is there something wrong with them or what? You look like you’re thinking so hard and we both know you’re smart enough to not have to think that hard about your shooters!”

Peter didn’t say anything for a while as he stared at (y/n), eyes slightly furrowed.

“Well?” (Y/n) prompted. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

Peter sighed and bit his lip. He looked up, as if pondering whether or not he should tell (y/n) about what was on his mind.

“It’s, uh, it’s about Liz.”

(Y/n) heart dropped.

“W-What about her?” She asked, feigning ignorance.

The frown made another appearance on Peter’s forehead. His fingers returned to the webshooter strapped on his wrist and started fiddling again. It was then that (y/n) noticed that this was his way of fidgeting. He used to fiddle with his fingers and then it was with his shooters.

“Well, I saw her today…”

“...and?”

“She, um…” Peter swallowed. “She was, uh, flirting, I think? With Flash.”

By some miracle, instead of feeling that tightness in her chest from the mention of her, she felt truly confused. “Flash? The same Flash that picks on you and doesn't believe in your internship?”

“Uh, yeah…?”

“Why would she? Doesn’t she know what kind of person he is?”

Peter laughed dryly. “He’s rich, (y/n).”

“And so am I, what about it?” (Y/n) raised an eyebrow. “I’m not as obnoxious as that guy, am I?”

“Of course not. You may be getting a big head, though.” He teased with a grin.

(Y/n) only swatted at his arm.

(It took every single will in her not to make a dirty joke then and there, telling herself it wasn’t appropriate for the topic.)

“Anyway! Why did you think she was flirting with him?” (Y/n) asked, ignoring the tight feeling that finally arrived despite the miracle earlier.

“Remember last week? When you picked me up with Happy?”

(Y/n) nodded. ‘How could I not?’ She thought bitterly.

“I don’t know if you saw, but uhh we were flirting, I think?”

“You think?”

“Well, Ned said we were…” Peter mumbled. “We were joking around and she kinda laughed so hard she had to hold onto me…” He recounted, a blush starting to make its way on his cheeks.

(Y/n) took a deep breath to try and calm her erratic heart. Her heart felt like it was sinking with each word coming out of Peter’s mouth. Had she not been a strong-willed young woman with experience in keeping her face neutral, she was 100% sure her eyes would be all watery by now. Not that she didn’t feel the burn on her eyes as she pretended not to hear Peter whispering ‘her hand was so soft’.

“And was she doing the same with Flash?” She asked, and again, by miracle, her voice didn’t crack.

Peter’s hand fell from his wrist and he nodded dejectedly.

“I thought she liked me, you know?” He muttered. Unlike her, Peter was an open book. He was never good at hiding his expression that it was a wonder that his secret identity was still intact. (Y/n) could clearly hear the pain in his voice.

It honestly infuriated her how easy it was for him to affect her.

(Y/n) cleared her throat. “Don’t take it to heart, Pete. Maybe she was just being friendly with him.”

“Or maybe she was just being friendly with me.” Peter mumbled, still dejected.

It filled her heart with grief that he could make such a pained expression in front of her. Had it been her, she could say with certainty that she would never let this boy in front of her go without a smile. But then again, who was she to do that? It wasn’t her that he wanted to put that smile on him.

And so, with a heavy heart and a smile hiding sorrow behind it, she told him, “Why don’t you ask her to do something with you? Like a date?”

——————————

4: Date

——————————

“(Y/n)? Where’s Peter?” Pepper immediately asked when she saw (y/n) lounging alone on the couch.

(Y/n) shrugged half-heartedly, shoving a spoonful of her favorite cookies and cream ice cream to her mouth. An older season of CSI: Miami was playing on the screen in front of her. She kept eating her ice cream unbothered as the screen showed a bloody corpse full of maggots. Oh, apparently it wasn’t a corpse and she was still alive. Who would’ve thought?

“Don’t you guys usually spend Sundays together?” Pepper asked again.

(Y/n) mumbled something that Pepper couldn’t hear.

“Sorry, what?”

“He has a date.”

Pepper blinked once. “A date?”

(Y/n) nodded.

“With… who?”

“...a girl from his school. An upperclassman.”

“Huh… Is that so?” Pepper hummed, taking a seat beside the young Stark.

She glanced at the angsty teen, still enjoying her ice cream accompanied by a pool of blood and maggot and David Caruso on the screen. “How are you feeling?”

“What do you mean? I’m totally fine.” (Y/n) answered through a mouthful of sugary dairy.

“I don’t think so, honey.” Pepper smiled at her, taking the tub away.

(Y/n) didn’t bother to answer, stubbornly keeping her eyes on the screen.

“I always thought both of you would end up together. What happened?” Pepper tried to ask.

“Us ending up together, huh?” (Y/n) chuckled dryly. “Not a chance, Pep.”

“Why do you say that?”

(Y/n) turned to the CEO of the company that one day would be hers. “Have you looked at Peter? Really looked at him?” She asked. “Because if you have, then you’d know that his eyes were never on me. Not once.”

Sighing, she reached to take back the tub of ice cream from Pepper. “A friend is all I am to him.” She muttered.

(Y/n) was perfectly fine with returning to her angsty mood accompanied by ice cream and crime lab, but apparently Pepper was not.

Pepper stood up and asked FRIDAY to turn the screen off.

“Aw, Pep! Why did you do that!” (Y/n) whined, not unlike a child getting her toy taken away.

“No wallowing in self pity, young lady. Now up you go! We’re going out.”

She groaned and plopped her face on the couch.

To say she would regret going out would be an understatement.

Because an hour on her outing with Pepper, she actually saw Peter on his date.

He was wearing a shirt and grey sweater, like how he wore to school, though the collar was neat. He definitely combed and gelled his hair. She didn’t like it, to be honest. (Y/n) always loved his curls that would fall to his eyes when it got a bit too long. She loved the soft unruly strands that felt silky when she ran her fingers through them.

Peter and his date, Liz, were in a cafe together. It was a cute and aesthetically pleasing one too. (Y/n) was in the Italian restaurant right across the street. Pepper sat with her back to the glass window, so she couldn’t see them, but it was as clear as the sky for (y/n).

And (y/n) wanted to look away, she really did. Yet for some reason, she just couldn’t stop staring at the happy couple. She watched as Liz reached a hand out to wipe something off the corner of Peter’s lips. She watched as Peter laughed shyly. She watched as he hesitantly tried to hold Liz’s hand on the table. She watched as Liz grinned and took his hand in hers.

She watched as they smiled at each other like they were the only people in the world and she was nothing but a speck of dust.

She watched, with bitter heart and a sorrowful smile as she told herself, as long as he’s happy, right?

——————————

5: Broken Heart

——————————

How could this have happened?

They were having such a great time together!

So why...?

“Peter, I’m so sorry…”

“It’s not your fault, why are you sorry?”

“I was the one who pushed you to ask her on a date…”

Peter chuckled. He tried to look unbothered, but he was still so easy to read. (Y/n) could basically hear the pieces of his broken heart rattling around as he moved.

It hurt her more than seeing him with her.

“Well, you couldn’t have known everything, (y/n),” Peter said. “Besides, at least I tried, you know?”

(Y/n) bit her lip.

Logically, she should be happy, shouldn’t she? Liz had told Peter that she wanted to remain friends, that she couldn’t be with him. That meant Peter was free for the whole world. Whether or not she had a chance was something else entirely. And yet, she felt extremely guilty.

“I’m okay, really!” Peter grinned with a fake cheerfulness. “I had a great time and I appreciate her telling me the truth instead of leading me on. I’m sure we’ll remain great friends even after this.”

‘But you were never great friends with her…’

“I guess she’s just trying to focus on her studies, you know? Since she’s a senior and all.”

‘But she did lead you on…’

“And you know what they say, there are plenty more fish in the sea!”

‘But you were so fixated on her…’

Peter’s eyes softened when he realized how quiet (y/n) was. “I’m really alright, (y/n). It’s not your fault at all.”

“Besides,” he grinned, this time genuine, “Maybe now it’s my turn to help you find someone! Your help was greatly appreciated and now I can return the favor!”

(Y/n) refrained from smiling sardonically at the irony. The only way he could help her find someone was if he magically fell in love with her, but she knew better than to be wishful like that.

“Thank you, Pete, but that won’t be necessary.”

“Whaaaaat why? I can give great love advice!”

“Yeah? Like what?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Uhh…”

“Exactly.”

“Anyway! When you find someone, tell me, okay? I’ll try my best to help you, since you were so helpful to me.”

Helpful, huh?

Why can’t you see it?

How badly I want to say those words?

Instead, (Y/n) smiled, sorrow seeping into her being. “It was my pleasure.”

——————————

+1: Reverse

——————————

arachnophobia: wanna go out tonight? hecate hasnt been out for a while

ironlady: cant today

ironlady: harley’s coming

arachnophobia: harley? the one whose garage mr stark broke into?

ironlady: yep!! cant wait to see him

ironady: its been a while

arachnophobia: can i meet him?

ironlady: ofc just come here

The moment Peter stepped out from the elevator, he could hear the laughter already. He didn’t need his enhanced hearing to know that (y/n) was positively joyful.

He followed the sound to the penthouse’s living room where he could see (y/n) sitting on the couch. Beside her was a young man his age with sandy blonde hair. Both of them were talking animatedly with each other.

“Hey.”

“Oh, Peter!” (Y/n) turned around, a big grin on her face. “This is Harley Keener, the potato boy dad and I told you about!”

“Potato boy?” Harley frowned.

“It’s either that or problem child 1, which one do you prefer?”

“Tony’s been calling me that?”

“Yep!”

“And what are you?”

“Problem child 2, duh.” (Y/n) rolled her eyes.

Harley scoffed. “Yeah, right, il mio tarassaco.”

“Hey! Only dad can call me that!”

“I know, I know, don’t get your panties in a twist, Princess Stark.” Harley laughed as he ruffled (y/n)’s hair, much to her chagrin.

Peter couldn’t get one word out. He watched as (y/n) tried to get back at Harley and mess with his hair as Harley dodged her. He watched as (y/n)’s face was overtaken by a huge grin and her eyes lighted up in joy.

“Harley stop it!”

“You started it!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!”

“No I didn’t!”

“Yes you did!”

“No I- you know what, I’m not doing this. You haven’t even greeted Peter!” (Y/n) huffed, gesturing at Peter who was still standing still behind the sofa.

“Oh, yeah, my bad,” Harley said. He stood up and dusted his pants, then reached out a hand.

“Harley Keener, at your service,” he grinned.

Peter took his hand hesitantly. “Peter Parker. Nice to meet you.”

(Y/n) beamed at the two of them. “I’ve told him so much about you. I think you guys will be great friends!” She told Peter. “Dad is talking about making Harley his intern too, so you two will be Stark Industries first and only high school interns. Tony Stark’s personal interns, to be exact.”

“Wait, intern?” Peter asked, clearly taken aback. “But don’t you live in Tennessee?”

Harley shrugged. “I’m moving here around next month. Not a lot of opportunities back home, so Tony offered to house and send me to school here. I’m here today to look around before the big day.”

“It’s a shame I can’t go to school with you, though.” (Y/n) complained. “I’m getting bored of this whole homeschooling thing.”

“What can I say, Princess Stark,” Harley said with a teasing smile, “a Princess must remain at her castle.”

“Yeah, well, this Princess can take care of herself and goes out at night alone, what about it?” She rolled her eyes.

“Alright, alright, you got a point, Hecate.”

“I told you, I’m not Hecate right now!”

“He knows about Hecate?” Peter asked.

(Y/n) nodded. “He was the first one to know, even before dad. I told you of how Harley’s been coming here for years, right? He basically knows more about me than dad at this point.”

“That, I do.” Harley said, staring at Peter a little too long. Something dawned on him when he saw something on Peter’s face.

He turned to (y/n) and slung an arm around her shoulders. “Anyway, I gotta run and find Tony now, got things to ask him. I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, you know where to find me.”

“Great! See ya later, Princess Stark.” Harley dropped a big kiss on her head and left the room, but not before giving Peter a meaningful look.

Peter was frozen on his spot.

In all his time knowing (y/n), not once did he ever see (y/n) that happy. She looked so carefree, as if she trusted Harley blindly and trusted him to keep her that way. It took him some time to get (y/n) to open up to him. He knew that he couldn’t compare himself to Harley who knew (y/n) longer than him, but for some reason it ticked him off.

But why?

And when Harley held (y/n) close to him like that? It felt wrong to Peter. Then he went and actually kissed her! Well, on the head, but still. Something felt off within Peter and he didn’t really know what or why.

Somehow, it was almost like…

Like it should’ve been him?

“Peter, are you okay?”

Peter was startled from his thoughts when (y/n)’s face suddenly entered his peripherals.

“I’m fine, why do you ask?” He quickly said.

(Y/n) hummed. “You look a bit off, that’s all.”

“It’s nothing, I promise.”

“If you say so…”

“So, uh,” Peter started, “that Harley… How long is he staying?”

“A week, I think. He’ll move in next month, on the 15th.” (Y/n) answered. “I can’t wait for next month, honestly. I missed him so much. Him living with me and dad here would be a blast.”

“When do you want to go out?” Peter asked, changing the subject immediately. Somehow, for some reason, he didn’t want to hear (y/n) talk about Harley anymore. Especially not about how he would be living with her.

“Ah, well… Not this week? Maybe after Harley’s back to Tennessee?”

“...oh.”

“You can still go out without me though! I know Spider-Man must be anxious to get out there!”

“...yeah, you’re right. Uh, you know what, I actually forgot I had to run an errand for May, so I’m going to leave now, okay?”

Peter quickly rushed out. The penthouse was getting stuffy for no reason and he couldn’t stand being there anymore.

What is wrong with me?

——————————

Taglist + Mutuals (let me know if you want me to untag you!)

@spn-assemble-seven @racewife2004​​ @lukesbabylon​​ @serendipitous-amor​​ @sovereign-parker @ifangirlninja​​ @lyzalovealk @lookuptotheskiesandsee @tommysparker​​ @starlight-starks​​   @marvelexi​​ @lou-la-lou​​ @spiderbibby​​ @hello--zuko-here​ @everydaymj​​ @galaxystern08​​  @allegra-writes​​​​ @spideyspeaches​​​​ @delicatepeterparker​​ @parkerpeter24​​​​ @terrifictomholland​​​​ @quackeroos​​ @angel-spidey​​ @greenorangevioletgrass​​ @awkward-darkness​​ @chloecreatesfictions @tonguetiedholland​​ @peterbenjiparker​​ @and-it-burns-like-a-fire @sinisterspidey​​ @bi-lmg

[lemonjoonah]

Level of Restraint (M)

Pairings: Jimin x Reader, Namjoon x Reader, Taehyung x Reader Word Count: 13K  Rating: M  Genre: Thriller, smut, office AU, BDSM AU  Warnings(contains spoilers): This story contains very dark themes and may not be suited to all readers, protected sex (vag+anal), threesome, double penetration, bondage (including partial suspension), dom/sub roles (reader is a sub), praise kink, mild degration, sensory deprivation, spanking, fingering, cum feeding, mild breathplay, sex toys, exhibitionism, voyeurism, discussion of safe word, Namjoon is a professional dom/sex worker, referenced discrimination of sex workers and those who participate in BDSM, public outing of sexual practices, inappropriate workplace relationships, referenced death of minor character, yandere character, misidentified sexual partner, manipulation, bribery, blackmail, implied stalking, violence.

Summary: As a co-founder of a consulting firm you can’t afford to be caught in a scandal. So flirting with your secretary, Jimin, would be out of the question. Giving your client’s son, Taehyung, a reference for a sexual partner would be reprehensible. And having regular paid BDSM sessions with your dominant, Namjoon? That would be a career ending disgrace. It’s too bad the only restraints in life you approve of are the cuffs that bind you to the bed, because there are those hiding in the dark waiting to take advantage. 

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who supported me while writing this story. It was hard not to question the level of darkness this tale descends to. In the end your assurances and aid are the only reason this fic made it to fruition. Upon reading you might notice several thematic references to the ‘Fall of the House of Usher,’ by Edgar Allan Poe  and the Greek myth of Tantalus. They are two of my favourite tales, and together they greatly represent the darkened desires depicted in this oneshot.

...

8:55 am KNJ: Good girl.

Your heart races upon receiving the response you’ve been waiting for all morning. The sender had requested proof that you were wearing his last minute gift, and you were happy to oblige with the lewd photo. Finally seeing his simple praise for your efforts makes you grin from ear to ear, as you enter the front door to your workplace’s building. The message will be enough to get you through the day, high on the thought of his praise while his present is wrapped tightly around your ribs. Though the garment may be confining, you’ll endure anything to receive those two simple words.

Reluctantly glancing up from your phone you look ahead to see the elevator closing.

“Hold the door!” You call out, making a run for it. Mercifully the gap between the doors widens allowing you to climb in before it begins the long haul up. Glancing over to your savoir, you find your secretary standing at the panel. “Thanks Jimin.”

“No problem,” he responds with a warm smile. “What floor do you need?” Joking as he pushes the button labelled 14. 

You playfully shove his arm while trying to catch your breath. Had he left you down on the first floor there's no telling how long it would be before the elevator returned. The building in which you work has been down to one lift for a couple days, with no promise of when the other will be fixed. It’s not a surprise really, ever since you moved into this complex three years ago you’ve been plagued with breakdowns and shotty utilities. Considering how opulent  the tower is, with it’s gilded elevators and halls adorned in finery you expected better, but people often overlook flaws when they have something pleasant to stare at. Allowing the management to slack on some of the failings of the structure. 

“Do you think you could send maintenance another message?” You ask your hand clutching your waist to comfort the stitch in your side, no doubt a result of the corset concealed beneath your clothes. 

“Consider it done.” Jimin replies, pulling out his phone. “Are you okay Miss?” He asks, your heavy breathing failing to go unnoticed judging from the concern in his voice.

“Fine.” You quickly change the subject, not wanting to linger on your current state. “What’s on my schedule for today?”

“You have a consultation with Mr. Kim of HOC Industries in an hour-” 

“Really?” You cut in, confused about the sudden change. “But I just saw him a few weeks ago. Why is he coming in?”

“He didn’t say, I just got a message last night from him stating he required an appointment immediately.”

“That’s not a good sign...” You groan, wondering what information had dropped to spur a need for such an urgent response. 

“Afterwards you have an early lunch with journalist Min. Followed by a one o’clock appointment with Jeon Jungkook to go over the new web layout. And the rest of office hours are slated as admin.” 

You cringe over the prospect of bookkeeping. Your accountant’s involvement in a recent accident, placed him on an extended leave of absence. Since you are the only other member of your small staff qualified to balance the books, this leaves you burdened with his duties. “Remind me later to make a posting for a temp position.”

“Noted,” Jimin remarks as he continues to scroll through his phone. “Oh and don’t forget, you also have your monthly massage appointment with Kim Namjoon tonight.”

You smile at the thought, you would never forget a booking with him, especially since he’s the reason for your current state of breathlessness. You’ve been counting down the days until you get to see him, with only a few hours left you can barely contain yourself. To everyone who asks he’s a masseur, but the services he provides are far more aggressively intimate than a standard massage. You force a small cough to cover the involuntary moan starting to escape. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just tired. I didn’t sleep well last night.” It’s not a complete lie, with the stress from work there have been a lot of restless nights recently, your appointment tonight should help to relieve a bit of that tension. There’s a loud groan as the elevator comes to a stop at your floor. You look up to the top of the lift and over to Jimin with worry, both of you stepping off with haste once the doors open.

Your entire office space consists of only a few rooms. You and Hoseok had started this company only a few years ago, focusing on corporate consultations regarding public image and approval. All things considered you’re doing rather well. With your negotiation tactics, Hoseok's philanthropy efforts, and Yoongi on retainer as your media source, you’ve been able to take on several giant corporations.    

As you walk down the hall you find the temperature starting to rise, and upon stepping into your’s and Jimin’s shared office, you’re hit with a wave of heat. You whisper your curses as you check the thermostat which has been jacked to its highest setting and refuses to shift back down. 

Giving up on the system you turn to the windows, but even those are a struggle after being neglected for so long. You call out to Jimin for assistance, waiting no more than a second before he is by your side. But even with his help you only manage to open them to the grand extent of a sliver before you’re forced to give in. At least with your office door open there’s now a small draft pervading the space.

“I guess I’ll send maintenance another message,” Jimin chuckles.

“You don’t think he’s trying to push us out do you?” You inquire about the building owner, and one of your own clients. You don’t usually make such bold claims, but with Jimin’s ties to the dubious man, it’s hard not to ask.

“I wouldn’t put it past him. Though I think this is more likely due to his lack of regard for the workmanship going into his properties.”

You nod overlooking the now stuffy room which holds both your desks. It serves its purpose with a sufficient amount of daylight from the large windows, and a partial wall giving you each a bit of privacy. You’d rather not have to leave this building and the status that comes with it, but there seems to be no end with these faulty appliances. “So much for being the height of sophistication.”

While you settle into your workspace you’re already dying from the heat, a sweater and camisole overtop your corset was not the best choice for today, but you didn’t want to risk anyone noticing the garment beneath. As you shuffling through your newsite tabs Jimin readies the coffee maker, returning to you with the first dose of your daily caffeine needs. 

“You’re a saint.”

Jimin smiles brightly at your compliment, living for the praise as always. “Do you want some ice on the side?” He laughs as you tug on your sweater to stop it from sticking to your skin.

“Only if I can rub it all over.” You sigh jokingly as you take a sip of the hot beverage.

“I’d be happy to assist.” His smirk and piercing gaze look to be downright serious, his flirtation hitting a new high today.    

“Sorry Jimin, I already have a massage appointment later. I think Namjoon would be very upset if you took his job from him.”

“That’s too bad.” He mutters, his lip still curled into a smile before stepping away from your desk. “Let me know if you change your mind. I’d be more than willing to compensate him for his loss.” Jimin has never been shy about his attraction to you, a desire which you most certainly reciprocate, but your own company policies keep the both of you tied to flirtatious word play. With Jimin winning more often than not when it comes to provocative sentiments.

He hangs around on your side of the room, straightening the chairs and stray flies, while you continue your search for whatever prompted the need for your haste meeting. At last you find it, on the featured articles of a prominent celeb news site, with the headline reading, ‘The Dark Desires of the Kim Family Heir.’

Much to your chagrin the issue isn’t regarding your client, but his son. As much as you try to stay out of personal family matters, sometimes they are unavoidable, and this looks to be one of those cases.

‘Kim Taehyung has long been considered one of the most eligible bachelors. He has it all, money, power, and a spot on every top ten most attractive list, but those who have been with him more intimately say he craves something more...’ 

Your mouth falls open in horror as one of Taehyung's former partners exposes their most intimate moments with him. ‘The Gucci suits and custom cologne are just an expensive mask for the darkness beneath. He would ask to be tied, bound to the bed and struck. He wanted pain and pleasure...’ The further you read the more your chest tightens. You’d rather not jump to conclusions, but you wouldn’t be surprised if it’s true. A fact which must make it all the more painful for Taehyung. You can only imagine what he must be going through, to have such private details exposed and exploited. He’s currently living your worst nightmare, a societal judgement over one's deepest desires. For professional reasons it would probably be best to stay out of this private matter, but you can’t in good consciousness let him suffer alone.

“That bad?” Jimin asks.

“Yeah...” You cover your mouth to hide your shuddering breath, blinking away the tears that threaten to spill on Taehyung's behalf.

Jimin shuffles in behind your desk with you. By lowering himself to read off your screen, his face falls next to yours. His hands come to rest on your shoulders as he leans in to eye the article in question. You should shoo him away, but you can’t help but be curious of his response to those who engage in such practices. As his eyes scan the page his grip on you tightens, his breathing erratic just like yours, with a whispered “‘Fuck,” escaping his lips. 

“Are we interrupting something?” A voice calls out from your open door. 

Your head snaps over in shock to find your next appointment waiting for you, with his son in tow. You jump up pushing Jimin back so you can greet your guests properly. “Mr. Kim! No not at all,  please come in. This must be-”

“Taehyung...” The younger man mutters as he walks in, slumping down in one of the chairs in front of your desk. His sunglasses are still in place, the smell of spirits wafts over you along with the spicy scent of what must be his referenced cologne. He’s a sight to behold, a person of his caliber could make a fortune off his looks alone; he wouldn’t even need a drop of his father's fortune. But of course, that would have been before this public outing of his bedroom tendencies. Now he’s more likely to be seen as a pariah rather than an asset.

Directing the elder to the seat next to him, you take your own once again as Jimin retreats to his desk. You don’t even have the chance to exchange pleasantries before Mr. Kim launches into the purpose of their visit. “I assume you saw the article about my son?”

“I did, but-”

“And? What can we do about it? How can we spin it? Our stocks have already taken a hit.”

“Your son just had a serious breach in personal privacy...” You pause hoping that he’ll have some semblance of a realization that he is not the victim here, instead he simply waits for you to continue. Attempt to hold in your dismay, you give him the only answer you can, “Sue for defamation if you’d like, but whether they are printing fact or fiction the damage is done. The press is still focusing on your family due to your early misdealings in your company. I would argue that if you turn the view of operations around then there is a very good chance that the media will start to back off personal affairs.”

“You can’t expect me to twiddle my thumbs and wait. My shareholders are currently questioning his ability to lead, they might seek to replace him.”

“Good.” Taehyung mutters. “If those prudes have a problem with me, I’d rather not have to work with them.”

You bite your lip to conceal a snort of laughter.  Mr. Kim fails to notice but his son seems to have caught your slip, taking off his glasses, he pierces you with a strong gaze.

Kim senior starts up again looking for sympathy and a way out, “Do you know how many of his flings I’ve had to pay off in the past-”

“Maybe you should just stick to your own business.” Taehyung eyes his father darkly.

“They made it my business when they started squealing to the press about what kind of man you are.”

You try to rein the situation in, this battle between father and son having no place in your office. “Mr. Kim! I would actually like to speak to your son for a moment. We can see if there’s a possible remedy for this... exposure.” You stand up, calling over the wall for your secretary "Jimin? Would you mind taking Mr. Kim to see Hoseok?” You turn back to your elder client, practically pushing him out the door into your secretaries’s care. “Jung Hoseok has been continuing his work on your company's philanthropic efforts. I’m sure he would love to show you what he has done with your portfolio.”

“Do you need me to come right back Miss?” Jimin asks with a pleading stare, his eyes flicker over to the young man still slumped in his seat.

“No I think we’ll be okay for a bit.” You mutter to him quietly as Mr. Kim proceeds down the hall. “Just keep him away for a few minutes.”

Once they're both gone you sit back down across from Taehyung with a sigh.

“So are your going to talk some sense into me?” He drawls with disdain.

“Fuck no,” you scoff, rummaging through your drawer. “Can I get you anything coffee, water... advil?”  You finally pull out the bottle of pain relievers and offer one to him as you take one yourself, your head ready to explode in frustration over his father. 

He tilts his head looking somewhat surprised, “So why did you send him away then?”

“I thought you could use a break. I’ve worked with many people like your father, they all want things done their way, and you’ll never be able to tell them otherwise. He’ll never admit to his faults, and the fact that he’s the real reason the media is all over you. So as long as you don’t tattle on me, we both can make it through this meeting with him thinking that he’s won.”

“Deal,” Taehyung agrees while he chuckles at your ploy. 

“Are you sure you don’t want anything?” You offer once again.

“Actually I’ll take some advil.”

“I thought you might.” You poor him glass from the cooler and offer up the pill. When his sleeve pulls back to reach for the cup you can’t help but notice the glaring red evidence of a rope abrasion on his wrist. While he throws back the pain killer, you take another sip of your coffee rolling the bitterness over your tongue before breaching the difficult subject. “It can’t be easy to have the press prying into every aspect of your private life.”

“It’s not so much that they pry, but...” Taehyung hesitates, his brow furrows as his fingers run through his hair tugging on the strands between his fingers.  “People know that they can go to them with a story and make money off any relations I have with them. And the press will gladly pay top dollar for what they have to offer.”

“The story is not a complete fabrication then?” You already know it’s not judging from his father's response and the marks on his arm, you just need to hear him say it. 

“No, it’s mostly true.” He admits, watching your reaction.

“Then it would seem that your desires might be thought unconventional by many of your past partners?”

Taehyung nods, taking another sip of his water. 

“From one unconventional individual to another,” you pause waiting for your own admission to sink in. To your delight Taehyung immediately perks up listening attentively as you continue. “There are more discreet ways to fill those needs.”

“Are you offering?” He asks, raising a brown along with the corner of his lips.

“No, I doubt that I would be very good at meeting your cravings, since we both hunger the same type of... attention.” You smile back at him, rejoicing in your mutual secret. “But I do have a friend who will take very good care of you. I’m going to give you a name and phone number, it’s up to you if you want to contact them, but I can assure you any conversations or actions between you and them will be kept strictly confidential. It’s not cheap,” you explain, but doubt that’ll be a problem for him. “But I assure you it’s safe and private.”

Taehyung can barely get the information from you fast enough once you jot it down. His hands, reaching for the sheet, accidentally knock over your coffee instead, sending the drink in your direction and staining your sweater. “I’m so sorry, here let me help you.” Taehyung jumps up and runs and grabs napkins from the coffee station. 

“It’s fine really.” You assure him, making an attempt to stop him as he starts to blot the saturated material. 

Unfortunately it’s at this moment that Jimin walks in to see your precarious state. He stands there for a moment in silence before explaining the reason for his return. “Mr. Kim said he needs to leave soon, Miss. He wanted to see if you two were... finished.” There’s glare set in his eyes for Taehyung's forwardness.

“Yeah, be right there, just one second.” You turn back to Taehyung, exchanging the damp napkin in his hand for the paper you had just written on. “Think about it, I hope you’ll give him a call. I don’t give out his information unless I think it will be of help to someone.”

“Kim Namjoon,” Taehyung mutters quietly while reading the slip. “If I were to go see him, would I find you there too?” He looks back up at you, biting his lip after posing his query.

“Likely not, he keeps his sessions very private, but you can always discuss your...” You glance over to Jimin who is still waiting, and well within earshot. “Preferences with him.”

“Then I’ll consider it, thank you.”

After seeing Mr. Kim and his son off, you're left to deal with the stain on your sweater, with only fifteen minutes before you have to leave for your lunch appointment. “Jimin could you call Yoongi and let him know I’m running a little late? I need to stop by my apartment on the way.”

“No need, I’ve got an extra shirt here.” He pulls out one of his own from his desk. “ I know it’s a men’s fit, but I think we can make it work.” 

“Why do you keep that here?” You laugh. He only looks at you and the stain with a raised brow, no words needed to prove his point. “Never mind, stupid question, but I can’t take your shirt Jimin.”

“I insist, go put it on.” He forces it into your hands as you double check your watch, your time constraints leaving you with little choice. 

Stepping behind the dividing wall, you strip down to your camisole, breathing a sigh of relief that the beverage hadn’t seeped into the fabric of the corset. Quickly throwing his button up over top and tucking it in, you check to ensure your intimate garment is still hidden relatively beneath the shirt before coming back out for his opinion “Does it look okay?”

Jimin nods, but when he reaches out to touch the shirt you recoil, fearing that he will discover what you wear beneath. He chuckles and persists, “I’m just fixing your collar.” He moves in closer standing just a couple inches away. Pinching the two seams of the fabric together, he considers the change. “I think it would look better like this.” You nod, keeping silent as he follows through. Pulling the fabric tight around your throat, your breathing is forced to pause for a moment as he fastens the top button. “Better?” He asks, while his hands linger around your neck.

“Much.” You whisper, as his fingers drift up to hold your chin, with the tip of his thumb dragging along the edge of your bottom lip. You stand there confused as to why your flirtatious game has taken such a physical turn. Although his actions are prohibited and should be censured, you can’t fully condemn them, deciding instead to remove yourself, rather than reprimand him. “I-I should go. I don’t want to be late meeting Yoongi.”  

...

It was a productive lunch to say the least, but that was by no means thanks to you. Your focus was distinctly elsewhere. While you toyed with your bottom lip, thinking of how Jimin had touched it just moments before, Yoongi gave you everything you needed to secure several new clients. Even now as you return, disembarking the elevator on to your floor, you still can’t concentrate on the day ahead.

On the walk back to your office Hoseok catches you, quickly pulling you into his own and closing the door behind. “You need to do something about Jimin.” 

“Wh-what do you mean?” You ask, nervous that he had seen you two together before you left for your meeting.

“Your client earlier, Mr. Kim, he said that he caught you two acting rather close, making suggestions that you two are involved in a sexual relationship. Usually I would disregard a comment like his but-” 

“It’s not true, you know I wouldn’t!” As much as you might want to act on Jimin’s advances you’ve never crossed that line. You know it must have been bad for Hoseok to bring it up, for him to take this serious tone is evidence of his deep concern. 

“I know that, but this isn’t the first time someone has thought you two might be a little too intimate. Some of the staff have also considered the notion. And I can see why, the way he looks at you, talks to you...” Hoseok trails off as his eyes linger on your apparel in confusion. “You weren’t wearing that earlier were you?” 

“No, I had some coffee spill on me earlier. Jimin was nice enough to loan me his.”

Hoseok tilts his head as he raises his brow as if this validates his concerns.

“He was just being helpful!” You offer, but Hoseok doesn’t look to be swayed, and he’s right, this is a workplace not a morning after situation. “Fine, I see your point. So what do you suggest?”

“Redistribute him, send him my way if you have to, god knows that I could use the extra hand. You could even play it off as a promotion, just get him out of your office.” Your heart drops at the thought, not wanting to give him up. Hoseok seeing this takes a softer tone. “Listen I can see that you like him too. I’m sure it feels good to have his attention, but you need to get this out of your system. You have to put a stop to it. We can’t afford a scandal and you know it.” 

With the assurance that you’ll think on the issue, and giving Hoseok your solution by tomorrow, you return to your office. But the problem is far from easy, though you did not lie about your physical relationship to Hoseok, you have been keeping something from him. From all of them. Jimin will never accept a promotion if it takes him away from you. He’s never worked here for the money, he doesn’t need to when his father owns half of the city, this building included. 

...

-3 years ago-

“Mr. Lee, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me.” You pull out the chair to sit across from him. The massive mahogany desk of his placing a rather large distance between the two of you. 

“Yes well, my building manager said you were very persistent.” There’s a small roll in his eyes as he looks from you down to the computer in front of him. 

“I wanted to discuss one of your properties, an office space in the Madeline Suites.”

He takes a swift glance at your modest appearance with narrowing eyes. “Forgive me, but I believe that location might be out of your price range.” 

“Monetarily yes,” You agree. “But we offer services which might be helpful to you.”

“I do not deal in favours. I can see that this meeting was a waste of time, you may go.” He waves the back of his hand to shoo you out, while his secretary grabs the door from the outside.

“I am not asking for a favour, but offering you my services. I’m the co-founder of a corporate image consulting firm. And come this time tomorrow, I believe you’ll be looking for someone within our realm of dealings.”

“And what makes you say that?” Lee asks, his words laced with cynicism. 

You lay out the first page of the article which Yoongi had sent you, stretching it across the wooden surface to place it in Mr. Lee’s view. ‘Real Estate Developer Lee Gungsang Faced Prior Allegations of Unlawful Evictions and Price Hiking.’ “This is slated for tomorrow morning’s front page.” 

Mr. Lee is quick to send his secretary off, the door shutting once again. “How do you know about this? These cases were settled before they made it anywhere near the courts.”

“I have my sources.” 

“Then stop this! I will pay whomever needs to be paid to prevent this from leaching out. You want the office space, it's yours.” He’s voice is desperate, you have him on the hook, the question now is, how long will he let you drag him for?

“That’s very generous of you, but nothing will stop this from going out tomorrow. My offer is simply to help you get ahead of it and lessen the damage.” You explain, revelling in the fact that money can’t hide everything.

“And how do you propose to do that?”

You pull out a contract for your serves. “I will need you to sign off on my services first. A small fee plus a far more reasonable price for a three year lease of the offices on the 14th floor of the Madeline Suites”

“Without knowing your plan, I think not.”

You give him a bright smile before mimicking his earlier statement. “I do not deal in favours Mr. Lee.”

He grumbles while taking the pen, eyeing you with a dark gaze as he signs on the dotted line.

With the ink still drying you hand over another small document. “Here are a few of my suggestions. Twenty percent of the commercial residences that you have just vacated will be handed over to non-profits for a drastically reduced monthly lease. I’ll even let you pick which you want to support.” 

He looks up at you mortified. “This is excessive.”

“No this is necessary. I’ve seen corporations do far more than this when they are not dealing with a scandal. Your accountants will agree with me that this is the best move, it can be seen as a donation and therefore tax deductible. For the evicted  private residences, I was thinking of partnering with a refugee resettlement program but we can discuss that more in depth later.” 

You carefully tuck away your contract in Lee’s file before dragging another concern to the forefront. “I do have one more request, before I leave today.”

“What more could you possibly want?” He scoffs.

You lean in to deliver your short but important demand. “A heads up.”

“I don’t know what you mean...”

“I mean if there are any other past dealings or actions which might impact your company I need to be aware of them.” There’s always more hidden in the dark, you have one of those secrets on hand now. You need to see if he’s willing to be upfront with you on every dealing of his past, otherwise you might be forced to dig him out from another grave a couple weeks from now. 

“There’s nothing else.” 

“Nothing?” You ask again as you pull out your phone ready to bring forward more evidence. 

“No.”

“So the knowledge of you having and hiding an illegitimate son... you don’t think that’s important? The existence of the only child of the Lee empire, isn’t newsworthy?”

“How did you-” The terror in his face looks to be even greater than the prior accusation. 

“You attempted to evict all of the residents who stayed in your residential apartment for over 10 years if they refused to agree with a massive lease hike. Park Jimin was the only one who wasn’t touched. He has no record of a job, living off what must be money given to him by his parents, so I looked into them. His father wasn’t listed but his late mother, Park Haesoon, used to work for your company, and 22 years ago she signed a NDA issued by your lawyer.” 

You open to Jimin’s public instagram page turning it around for his father to see. “He may take mostly after his mother, but I can still see a few clues to your family resemblance.”

“When does this one drop?” Lee asks in dismay.

“It’s not going to, at least, not from me or my source. We try not to deal in personal life consulting, but I am going to give you some advice in this matter. Get ahead of it.”

“My wife won’t hear of it.” Mr. Lee mutters through clenched teeth, it’s easy to see that this conversation has him very much on edge.

You nod seeing the crux of his dilemma. “I looked into the approximate date of his conception, you were newly married at the time, were you not?”

“Yes. She knows, but her family does not, they have a large political presence and we cannot afford to lose all support from them. Trust me, the boy is not worth the risk.”

“He’s your child!” You berate the CEO, your anger getting the better of you as you think of the emotional toll on Jimin. Not only did he lose his mother but his father won't even publicly acknowledge him. 

“I won’t be swayed on this matter. If you have nothing else to say you may leave.” Mr. Lee rises from his desk and once again gestures towards the door. “I’ll have keys to your new office space delivered to you tomorrow along with the lease. But I should warn you, if there is even a whisper of his name in public in conjunction with mine, I can assure you, your so-called firm won’t last another week.”

...

Less than a month later you and Hoseok have moved your entire enterprise to the new office space. You’re holding an open house for several different staff positions, when the most unlikely of applicants walks in your door, Park Jimin. 

He hands you a piece of paper which you can only guess is his resume, because your eyes fail to leave his face, your mouth unable to form words in your state of shock. Closing the door behind him, he gives you a nervous smile. “Judging from your expression, I take it you know who I am?”

You manage a single nod, still confused as to why he’s here, now, with you. It’s lucky you’re conducting the interviews alone, otherwise it would be difficult to explain your shock to Hoseok without exposing Jimin’s lineage. 

“I’ve been wanting to meet with you,” Jimin confesses, adding sheepishly, “My father told me of your meeting. He said you took a bit of an interest in me, even found my social media accounts.” 

“Oh, oh no.” You finally manage to sputter out, far more anxious with the younger man than his father. You never intended to meet Jimin, let alone have him find out you dug into some very personal aspects of his past and present. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t intend to invade your privacy. I was only trying to figure out what was going on. And when I learned the truth, I wanted him to own up to his mistake of hiding you.”

Jimin chuckles lightly, sitting down in front of you, “I didn’t come here looking for an apology Miss, I know why you did it. I merely wanted to meet one of the few people to ever successfully scare the shit out of my father.” 

The wide beaming smile accompanying his statement spurs a laugh from you, while also allowing you to relax in his presence. “Sometimes you have to intimidate these people to get them to do the right thing. But I’m sorry I wasn’t able to convince him to go public regarding everything.”

“That’s not your fault. In the end it was just nice to hear that there's someone who thinks I deserve better.” Jimin adds, with a look of sorrow leaching into his smile.

“Of course you do, but I must ask, why come here now?” You take a moment to confirm that it is in fact his resume that he’s handed you. ”I can’t imagine that you need a job.” He’s appearance alone is enough to tell you he’s buried in wealth, though his father has not given him the family name, it looks as if Jimin has gained some of the assets.  

“Actually that’s exactly what I was looking for.”

“Your father didn’t pressure you to come here to keep an eye on me did he?” You ask with scepticism. Keeping watch over possible threats wouldn’t be a completely off brand for those of his status. And with you knowing some of his deepest secrets you could likely be considered one of the biggest risks.

“No.” Jimin chuckles, briefly raising his hands in surrender. “I promise I’m here of my own volition. Money isn’t my biggest concern, I’ve been hoping to build connections. I want to use my time wisely and work with someone who is worthy of my focus, and that just so happens to be you.” He finishes with a suggestive smirk, making you wonder if you’ve won his affection too. 

“And what does your focus get me?” You ask, trying to weigh the benefits versus the risk. You doubt that Mr. Lee will respond kindly to you hiring his son, but if he continues to deny his son’s  existence then what right does he have to disagree? 

“Anything you require. I was interested in the posting for your secretary, but any position beneath you would suit me nicely.” 

...

There’s no way you’ll be able to convince Jimin to willingly change roles and work for Hoseok instead. But you can’t deny that your co-founder’s points are valid. 

Jimin greets you warmly as you enter your office. “Did you have a nice lunch?” 

“Yeah, it was good.” You respond, forcing out a smile.

“Really? Because you look upset.” 

You curse Jimin’s ability to read you at a time like this. “I promise, lunch was fine. Yoongi gave me some substantial leads.” You sigh sliding back in your seat. With your values shaken and morals questioned by Hoseok, you are deeply in need of someone to brace yourself on. Wanting to step out of the realm of responsibility and control even if it’s just for a moment, you make a request to Jimin. “Would you go fetch Jungkook for our meeting?”

“I can just call him in.” He makes the case looking reluctant to leave your side.

“Please Jimin just go get him. I need a few minutes for a personal call.”

Jimin looks at you crestfallen before finally leaving. It’s not often you keep things from him, he can scope you out too well for that. But Kim Namjoon’s actual role in your life is the one secret you feel is the most imperative to hide from him.

You pull out your cell, not wanting to use his number on your work phone. After two rings he picks up. “Couldn’t wait a few more hours to hear my voice baby girl?”

You're too embarrassed to admit he’s right, settling on another excuse for your call. “N-no I just wanted to let you know that I’ve sent someone your way... sir.”

“Don’t lie to me I can hear the need in your voice.” He chuckles lightly as he taunts you. “Your reference already reached out to me. I’m excited to play with him, is he just as handsome as he sounds?”

“More so.”

Namjoon hums on the line in gratification. “My babygirl, giving me another pet to play with.” 

You blush from the praise. Taehyung makes the sixth person you’ve suggested following the charity ball you met Namjoon at a couple years ago. Where he, much like you, was secretly scoping out potential clients. Every one of those patrons you’ve given him since then has been his pet, but you, you’re his babygirl. 

“I was wondering...” Namjoon’s carries on, in a tone far more hesitant than usual. “Tonight would you be willing to try something a little unconventional? Would you like to share him?”

“W-would that be okay?” He’s never suggested adding another to your sessions before, but you can’t deny you’re intrigued by the prospect.

“He mentioned an interest in you, and after discussing his needs I feel that I require someone other than myself to pin his desires on. You’ll be the carrot while I’ll be the stick. Do you think you could do that for me?”  Namjoon proposes in a low purr dragging every heated thought and possibility to the forefront of your mind.  

“Yes sir.” Your response is instant, with little thought required. Helping Namjoon with Taehyung? You’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity. There’s a small knock on your office door with the return of Jimin and Jungkook trailing behind him. You start to panic while still on the phone with Namjoon. “I’ll see you later then?”

Namjoon can of course detect the change in your tone, but instead of letting you off the hook he pulls you further. “Did someone walk in on you babygirl? I take it they don’t know about this side of you?”

“No they don’t.”

“No sir.” He calls out your lack of decorum, an error which you know you’ll pay for later. “Such a shame they’re missing out. What do you think they would say if they knew of my plans for you tonight? How I intend to hang you like forbidden fruit above another man. Do you think they would approve?” 

Your eyes widen as Namjoon continues and Jungkook takes the seat in front of you with Jimin standing behind him. You clear your throat and hold up your finger to them, gesturing for another minute. Turning away to hide your face as you continue to try and end the call. But hanging up on one’s dom is never advisable, condemning you to listen for as long as he wishes to torment. 

“I bet you would like them watch, wouldn’t you?” Namjoon asks, egging on your sinful thoughts, transferring them from Taehyung over to your co-workers.

You shift your thighs trying to dispel the building need as you consider the notation of them watching. Imagining Jungkook’s wide eyes taking in the sight, likely with a hand on his cock, he’s an innocent man with strong desires. You’ve known others like him before, they act with naivete but when confronted with an opportunity for more, they don’t hesitate to gorge on what is presented to them.

And Jimin, would he accept your darker needs? You wish he would, desperately wanting him to play along, to help mould you into submission. Your head now filled with thoughts of kneeling before him taking him in your mouth while he christens you a good girl. If only you could be sure that he wouldn’t react like most people, like those who condemned Taehyung. Your eyes flutter back over to your secretary who is looking at you with deep suspicion. You desperately need to end the call or risk giving yourself away. “I should probably-”

“Am I embarrassing you baby girl?” Namjoon teases with an amused laugh. “Does that mean I’m right?”

“Yes...”

“Yes sir.” Namjoon reminds you once again. “I’ll release you for now, but I better see you here at seven o’clock sharp. Is that understood?”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the release.  “Yes sir.” After finally hanging up, you offer up an apology. “Sorry about that.”

“Who was it?” Jimin inquires with a soft tone, but  a quick lick to his lips shows his intentions to be far from innocent. His clenched fists and hovering nature further pointing towards jealousy.

“No one important.” You smile through the lie, careful in your attempt to comfort him. It’s pointless to keep acting in this way, but you still can’t bear the thought of disheartening his feelings or pushing him away. 

...

After your meeting with Jungkook, you're left with a stack of paperwork and your ever persistent lack of concentration as you try to figure out what can be done with Jimin. Should you just tell him the issue, would it help or would it make the situation worse? If he knows how he is perceived then will the affection stop, and if it does, will you struggle with that loss?

“Can I walk you to your car Miss?” Jimin asks with his jacket in hand. You check the time, reading just after five. So lost in thought you had accomplished almost nothing in the last few hours of the day.

“I think I might just stay here until I have to leave for my appointment, I still have a bit more work to do.” You explain rubbing your hands over your face as you pull yourself from your daze.

“Do you want me to stay too then?” 

“No, I couldn’t ask that of you. But before you go I’d like to discuss something” You gesture to the seat across from you which he takes with hesitation. You’re usually not so formal and he can clearly spot the difference. You open your mouth and pause trying to find the right words as his eyes shine in your direction. The evening sun pouring into the room bathing his skin in with golden light makes it so much harder to stick to the issue at hand. You eventually resort to staring at the irrelevant papers on your desk as you open with your concern. 

“I’m worried that our actions towards each other imply that our relationship is not strictly professional.” You blurt it out quickly, hating every word that crosses your lips.

“Have I been making you uncomfortable Miss?” Jimin’s expression falls along with his question, the heartbreak ringing out clear in his voice. 

“No, no. It’s just, I’m concerned about how others see our interactions.”

“Oh, so someone said something to you then?” 

“Hoseok mentioned that a few people think we appear to be a bit more than boss and secretary.” You know it cowardly to bring Hoseok into this, but the information is second hand. You can’t be sure what others have said exactly.

“Well you do know more about me than most.” Jimin laughs lightly. 

“That’s not what they are implying. They think we are engaged in a sexual relationship.”

“And...” He draws the word out as if the implication is nothing, implying there should be a better reason for your concerns. 

“We aren’t Jimin!”

“Well, there's only one way to fix that.” He stands up leaning towards you over your desk. “You can’t say you haven’t thought about it. We could keep it a secret if you’d like, no one has to know.”

You doubt Jimin could keep a relationship between the two of you hidden, with the way he dotes on you already, you’re one passionate night away from finding three dozen roses on your desk. “Someone would find out, and the fall out-”

“Fuck the fall out,” Jimin states with resolve, reaching out his fingers tucking back a strand of your hair before curling beneath your chin. “I’m tired of this charade. Hoseok only said something because he’s jealous. He’s jealous that you want me as much as I want you.”

“Jimin,” You whisper. “Even if that was the case, that still doesn’t make it right.” You pull back from his touch. “You should go. Think about what I said, because if we can’t maintain at least some level of restraint and professionalism... then you might be better off working for someone else in the office.”

“So you’d rather keep your social image than be happy with me?” Jimin accuses, the usual warmth having completely vanished from his face.

“It’s not like that. My standing is my life, it’s my career, any blemish would destroy everything I have.” You attempt to express the fear inside you, the weight that bears on you every day. You already have so many secrets and liabilities, but one as close and extensive as a relationship with him might finally crush you and everything you’ve built. “I like you, I really do, but I can’t take the risk. You have to understand, I’m not like you. I don’t have a secret trust fund to fall back on.”  

Jimin looks as though you’ve stabbed him, pulling away he heads to the exit. “I’m sorry I’m not worth the risk. You know, I thought you were better than that, but it would seem you’re just like everyone else.” 

The door slamming between you echoes through the office as you sag in your chair. Never in all your years have you ever sunk so low. By taking him on you wanted to ensure Jimin’s happiness, to show him his value despite the lack of acknowledgement  from his father, but now it seems you’ve fallen into the same role as those who have hurt him before.

  ...

You type your code into Namjoon’s door, stepping into his hall quickly and shutting the door behind you. It’s just before seven and usually you find him in his living room already waiting, but today it’s empty. Not wanting to disturb him, you take a seat on the couch and wait patiently for him to join you. 

You feel ready to fold in on yourself as you continue to dwell on your argument with Jimin. If you laid out boundaries earlier you likely wouldn’t be where you are now. Hating yourself over his confession, and your inability to accept it. 

There’s movement from the bedroom door as Namjoon’s partner Seokjin comes out to greet you. You look up in bewilderment as he takes your hand, pulling you off the couch. “Namjoon has already started with the other client, so he sent me to fetch you.” 

You nod understanding Namjoon’s divergence from the norm, it wouldn’t be safe practice for him to leave Taehyung alone in a precarious position. Now looking to the door with curiosity, you’re excited by what lustful visions will greet you on the other side. But when Seokjin presents something to you it’s clear that you won’t get to see those sights.

“You’ve been asked to wear this.” He holds out a wide silken strip, one that Namjoon has used as a blindfold in the past. You allow Seokjin to cover your eyes, with a touch far more gentle than you know Namjoon’s to be. You don’t want kindness, craving instead to be broken in by the man in the other room, especially after the damage you’ve done today. The loss of your vision will have to be punishment enough for the time being. 

“Does he want me to undress too?” You ask, touching the silk over your eyes, you're completely blind and already longing for the next step. 

“No he wishes to save that pleasure for himself.”

You smirk thinking he might, you’ve been wearing his gift all day it’s only right that he gets to see it first.  

There’s a knock and a click of the door before Seokjin takes you in hand again, leading you in. The air is warmer and heavier than that of the living room, making it impossible to draw a fresh breath. 

Seokjin pushes down on your shoulder, a wordless order to kneel. The plush carpet meeting your knees as you lower yourself, if only you could reach out to get a better sense of what’s in front of you, but form dictates that you keep your hands on your lap. 

The bedroom door closes, signalling Seokjin's departure. Sending one last wave of clean air before you're smothered once again. Locked away for the night with your master and his new pet. There’s a small creek from the mattress and the familiar rattle of restraints against the bedpost. You can just barely make out the tone of Namjoon’s low whisper as he speaks to the current tenant of the bed. 

Footsteps land to your left, muffled by the wall to wall but still sending vibrations through the floor.  As Namjoon approaches, your heart pounds wondering what his first move against you will be. He takes his sweet time letting the anticipation build as your chest continues to heave in its attempts to take in the thick air. You keep your posture, maintaining your stance with the knowledge that he will inspect you. Head lowered, hands on thighs, perched on your toes as your knees dig into the ground. Your legs soon start to tremble as your feet strain to bear the weight.

Namjoon settles right in front of you, the slow draw of his breath reaches your ears, while the heat of his exhale hits your face. A hand trails up the outside of your thigh stilling the tremor in your legs with a forceful grip. You freeze wondering if your jitters will cost you, you can’t let him find fault not if you want him to reward you with his presence. 

But as he takes your chin tightly between his index and his thumb, you know you're in the clear. He tilts your head up as you breathe a sigh of relief. “Such a good girl, setting the perfect example.” His fingers slide down petting the column of your throat with a firm touch. “I was so happy to receive your picture this morning, did you wear the gift all day as ordered?”

“Yes sir.” You pant back, eager for him to see for himself. 

“It wasn’t too hard for you then, to go so long in such a confined state?”

“No sir.”

“Good girl,” He purrs in your ear as he starts unfastening your shirt. He hesitates on the buttons for a moment. “Babygirl, would you care to tell me why you're wearing a men’s shirt?”

You swallow not wanting to admit that it’s the fault of the man currently lying in his bed. You plan to take the fall, wanting Namjoon’s undivided attention even if it’s in the form of a punishment. “I spilled something on mine sir.”  

“So clumsy.” He has the shirt completely off now revealing the corset for him and likely Taehyung to see. Namjoon helps you to stand, unzipping your skirt he pushes it to the floor. You feel so helpless without your sight but Namjoon doesn’t seem to mind assisting. He uses the soft fabric of the shirt to dab at the sweat beading on your skin. “Who, may I ask, clothed you in theirs? Such an expensive label, he must think highly of you.”

You shift in place, made uncomfortable by your inability to answer. Knowing if you say his name thoughts of him will be summoned to your mind. You don’t deserve to think of him at such a time, not after you led him on and left him dry.

“You don’t wish to tell me?” The feel of Namjoon’s breath leaves you, the sounds of his feet  indicating he’s moved to the right of you. Heading to a space you know to be occupied by a table and closet full of his tools. There’s a scrap of metal and what sounds like the jingle of buckles. 

“No sir.”

“And why is that?” Fingers trail up your arm as Namjoon signals his return to your side. 

“Because I’m not allowed to have him sir.”

“A noble response.” Namjoon reasons while he wraps the leather strap of a familiar collar around your neck. “But I still plan to get that name from you before we’re done.” He buckles it swiftly checking the tightness with two fingers. You thought him finished but he progresses to cuff your wrists in leather too, tethering them together in front of you. 

He leans in again with a hushed request, “Still know your safe word?” You nod repeating is back to him before he leads you on towards the bed. 

Namjoon stands behind you as he presents you to his new pet. When you gave Taehyung Namjoon’s number you hadn’t been expecting this but you can’t deny enjoying the prospect. But you find the silence and lack of reaction from him unnerving. “I asked him not to make a sound,” Namjoon explains, “And he’s abiding by my rules so well it’s he?” 

Namjoon takes your hands helping you to feel the current state in which Taehyung is interned. A Leather cuff just like yours binds one of his wrists with a short chain leading to bedpost. You imagine that his other limbs are restricted to the other corners of the bed, for Namjoon has bound you in the same state before. 

“Can he see?” You ask Namjoon wondering if he has been left blind too, or if he’s eyes are watching you now.

“Can he see you? He can babygirl, in fact, he hasn’t looked away once, and why would he?” Namjoon sits you down on the large bed to join Taehyung before pulling down the matching underwear to your corset. “They’re so wet, have you been soaking these all day?” 

You nod in response. A delighted Namjoon makes an offer to Taehyung. “Would you like a taste pet? A reward for being so good.” Namjoon revels in his situation with a chuckle, the man beneath you must have nodded. “Then open up.” You know what a taste means for Namjoon, those panties of yours are most certainly shoved into Taehyung's mouth. He lets out a groan of satisfaction at the welcome intrusion.

Namjoon’s hands find your waist dragging you up further on to the bed with your knees now resting on the mattress. “You’re going to straddle him for me babygirl.” He shifts you over pulling up one of your legs to settle them on either side of the man beneath you. Your knees bent with your calves coming to rest against his bare hips. Without his billowy clothes he is far more slight than you expected, but his skin feels firm and toned. 

You slowly move to lower yourself knowing what you will come down on top of as you sit, but Namjoon seems to have other plans in mind. He takes your bound wrist, lifting them above your head and latching the cuffs to a chain in the rafters of the canopy bed. Once fixed in place he tests your limitations, a quick tug to show you even with your arms fully extended you are only able to lower yourself to half a kneel. You groan in frustration with the realization you can’t move any closer to the cock that rests below you. It’s just as he promised, hung like forbidden fruit above another man. Your dominant’s flare for the poetic never failing to surprise you.

“Problem babygirl?” Namjoon cooes in your ear. “Do you have something you want to say?”

“No sir.”

“Good, because if I recall you still need to be punished for your lack of formality on the phone earlier today.” 

Your stomach drops as you realize he’s going to discipline you right now, in full view of Taehyung. The heat rises to your face at the thought of being demeaned in front of another. Namjoon’s hand cups your bare ass, readying it for the assault. “You failed to call me sir twice, three for each lapse should do it.”

While the first strike eases you in, those that follow are not so gentle. The ring of his index biting your flesh with each impact. The third strike is so strong you pivot forward on your knees, your back arching as you bare forward still confined to the corset and chains. The weight of your body pulls painfully on your shoulders for a brief second, but Namjoon is there to catch you. Stopping you before you can slip and more, and propping you back in place before continuing. 

One hand lays firmly on your stomach to prevent the shift from happening again, while the other rubs the curve of your ass mapping where he should strike next. You can feel the warmth in your skin as the blood rises to the surface in reaction to his beating. Your nerves are caught in the struggle between pain and pleasure, even as the sixth and final blow lands. 

“Good girl.” Namjoon whispers his touch disappearing, as you ease down against your restraints. You hang completely by your wrists while your legs quake from the shock. Every nerve in your body feels as though it’s been left on fire with nothing to quench the flames. Leaving you to hang there for what seems like eternity.

“Sir?” You whisper in the dark as the heat continues to build inside you. Wondering where he has gone your body reacts, begging for the return of his attention with a dripping cunt. And with Taehyung below that can only mean the steady drip of your arousal is left to fall on him.

“Babygirl you’re making such a mess.” Namjoon confirms along with a groan from the man beneath you. “But he appears to be leaking too. Do you want some?” You nod eager for a taste. 

Namjoon obliges, grabbing your throat in one hand, he presses a damp finger to your lips for you to take. Your mouth latches over the offered digit, allowing the bitter fluid to sweep over your tongue. You're forced to let it sit there unable to swallow as the grip on your throat tightens, with the strap of the collar digging into your skin. Your mouth fills with saliva prompting you to close it despite your desperate need for air. 

“Does he taste good?” Namjoon wickedly possesses knowing you can barely even nod. It’s when you start to tremble that he finally releases your airway. 

You swallow quickly before letting your mouth hang open in a pant. With your lungs still restricted by the corset your breathing comes in short shuddering waves. “Yes sir, so good.”

“I think he likes having you drench him, shall we give him more?”

“Please.” You beg but Namjoon suddenly delivers a staggering blow to your backside, indicating your misstep. You’re left gasping from the sudden impact, swinging in the restraints as you try to recoil. “Please sir.” Your plea comes again this time with the proper decorum.  

There’s a crinkle of what sounds like a condom wrapper as Namjoon readies himself behind you. His fingers damp with lubrication find your back entrance, your tight hole giving way to a single finger. “You’ve been training for me like I asked?”

“Yes sir.” You almost come at the thought of it along with pleasure with the swirling digit. You’ve dabbled in anal before testing out a few toys, but a few weeks ago he sent you a plug with a tapered t-shaped end, giving you strict orders to wear it to work the following day. Unfortunately that was the date you had scheduled a meeting with your whole team. You were a flustered mess as you fought through your presentation, Jimin’s presence by your side making it so much more difficult to maintain control of your arousal . But the full day of public and torturous stimulation was worth it, for the reward that night was a call from Namjoon. His orders led you through every action of self pleasure.  Telling you when and where to touch before finally directing you to come. You’ve used the item several times on your own since, knowing your practice would help you in this moment. You wanted to make Namjoon proud and take him with little resistance. That desire now intensified with having Taehyung as an audience.

“Then you're ready to take me in front of him?” 

You nod gripping chains of the restraints as Namjoon eases into you. “Just relax.” His hands glide down your shoulders and back, coming to rest splayed across your hips, the tips of his finger root under the corset and dig into your stomach. Your grip eases as you lean back into him. “That’s it.” He mutters quietly as you stretch to accommodate him. “Good girl.”

After taking a few inches Namjoon pushes down on the front of your corset bowing the metal latches back to so they release, with a few clicks and swift presses the garment is off allowing you to breathe deeper than you have all day. 

“God you should see him babygirl, he’s so ruined by the sight of you. You have him panting for you.” You wish you could curse Namjoon for his choice to blindfold you and silence Taehyung, you would take any punishment that came of it, but all you can muster is a gasp while he continues to fill you more. “I wonder how he’ll react,” One of Namjoon’s hands leaves your hips coming to rest with something soft against your aching clit. “When he sees you come.” With a click the object vibrates, throwing you back completely onto Namjoons cock from the shock.

You catch Namjoon’s lustful groan between your cries. He starts to thrust inside of you one hand gripping your chest while the other holds the vibrate down in place despite your bucking hips. It doesn’t take long for you to completely fold. As the heat inside you finally reaches its peak you shatter, your head falling back on Namjoon’s shoulder as you convulse and moan. With nothing for your cunt to clench your legs grip the trussed man between them. He too lets out a sinful groan as the fluids from your fold continue to drip down your legs meet his adjoining skin. 

Namjoon turns the device off and slips out, the bed shifts as he moves in front of you. When his hand cups your face you lean into his touch. “You okay?”

You nod hoping he’ll be lenient with your lack of speech. You hear him whisper as he checks in with Taehyung too. “I’m going to take these now.” Namjoon must finally be freeing him from the waded underwear of yours.

Namjoon’s hands find you again, playing with the arousal dripping down your legs as he drags his fingers up to the source. A finger grazes your folds slipping between without penetrating. You pull desperately against your restraints hoping that it might find its way inside.  

“So are you going to tell me who you’re not allowed to have?” Namjoon asks again. “Or do I have to let you hang here all night?” 

“My secretary...” You give in with a  whisper, hoping that Taehyung won’t hear.

“And what’s his name? Say it and I’ll give you what you want.” 

The deal is too good for you to resist, you last only a couple more seconds before finally giving in. Crying out, “Jimin,” as two of Namjoon’s fingers breach you. Your sopping slit squelching as he curls his fingers. 

“There it is.” Namjoon sighs, his other hand brushing your cheek. “Is he the reason you’re so worked up tonight babygirl?”

“Y-yes sir.” You stutter as his fingers continue. He gives you another minute of bliss before removing his digits. 

“You’re going to do something for me, okay?” Namjoon asks. You nod as he continues to hold your face. “That man between your legs, you are going to fuck him and imagine Jimin as you do so, is that clear?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Is that okay with you pet?” He asks the other occupant, who still remains silent with his answers. The sound of another condom wrapper, comes as your confirmation.  Taehyung lets out an unexpected high pitched whine, likely due to the pressure that comes with the latex being rubbed down his shaft. You’re already so invested in the lie that he’s even starting to sound like Jimin. 

Namjoon is once again behind you. You can hear the rattle of the length of chain that holds you up and as he sinks back into you, his cock slipping in far easier this time, your body gladly welcomes the fullness of his intrusion.  He then lowers you inch by inch, with little strength left in your legs you are relying only on the restraints and Namjoon to hold you up. After gaining a bit more freedom you can feel the tip of a cock brushing up against you. Namjoon’s arm comes to rest on your thigh as he lines the erection up for you to take it inside. It’s a slow descent, as you stretch to accommodate both of them. Your thankful Namjoon’s mercy for easing you down gradually. 

When you bottom out Namjoon pulls the chain down from the rafters he releases the length from your cuffs, but rather than discarding it he attaches it to your collar, tugging on it as if it’s a leash. Though your hands are still bound together you have the freedom to rest them on the man laying down in front of you. You take pleasure in dragging the tips of your fingers across his skin, feeling his abs flex and his cock twitch inside you as you do so. 

Namjoon starts to thrust, keeping a close hold on your collar. While he pushes you are sent up and down on what you desperately want to be Jimin’s thick cock. After a few thrusts you are shoved forward entirely by Namjoon, colliding with the man beneath you. Your chest is pushed into his, as your bound hands are pinned between the two of you. While your head is left to rest on his shoulder, the tip of your nose is able to graze his neck. As you breathe in your mind continues to play tricks, the smell coming off him mimics that of the cologne your secretary wears, rather than the scent of Taehyung. 

Namjoon must have unbound his legs as they bend up to cradle your own from behind his hips bucking into yours, with both men taking you at a steady pace.

You move in closer to his neck, with a lick you taste the salt of his skin showing  your intentions. Biting down on the spot, you suck in deeply as your teeth dig in even harder. The carnal groans you receive from him sending shivers to your spine. There’s the sound of a soft slap, Namjoon didn’t hit you, but the man beneath you returns to his ordered silence.

Namjoon thrusts even harder, pushing you into his chest repeatedly. The thought of being fucked into Jimin’s embrace is too much to bear. Your cunt clenches as you continue envisioning your secretary, and how you're grinding your clit against his pelvis. 

You cry out over the swelling girths inside you, knowing their both likely to come soon. Clenching down one last time you dissolve in the pleasure and contentment. Namjoon finishes first remaining inside while his pet comes too. He leaves you there laying upon your imagined Jimin, in your daze  you can barely move let alone focus on reality. With a wave of exhaustion you start to slip from consciousness, but not before one last praise reaches your ears. Your delirium grants you the satisfaction of hearing the voice of Jimin whisper, “Good girl.”

...

You can’t remember the last time you slept so well. You woke early to find Namjoon had taken care of you in the night, he released your wrist cuffs, and removed your blindfold, after you had passed out from the physical exertion. The only restraint to remain was your collar which he asked you to wear today. Taehyung was sadly already gone, but you can’t deny it was nice to have Namjoon to yourself before you left. 

Now as you head off to work, showered and freshly dressed, with a turtleneck hiding your gift, you check your phone for the first time. Finding a string of apologetic messages sent from Jimin in the early hours of the morning. You reply apologizing too and asking to revisit the subject as soon as you get into work. Thankfully he agrees, the smiling emoji he ends his text on sends a wave of relief through you.

You step in the front entrance of your building ready to handle and objectively listen to Jimin’s thoughts and concerns. While you wait for the elevator your phone vibrates listing a call from an unknown number. “Hello?”

“Hey it’s Taehyung. Hope you don’t mind, I stole your personal number from my father.”

“Taehyung...” Heat starts to rise in your face at the thought of last night. The elevator arrives and you quickly step in. “No, not at all, to what do I owe the honour of this call.”

“No need to be so formal,” He giggles at you.

“Sorry, habit,” You respond. “What can I do for you?” 

“I wanted to thank you for yesterday...” Taehyung starts off. 

But his words are soon interrupted by someone shouting, “Hold the door.” You comply, pushing the button to keep them open, while trying to keep your focus on your conversation with Taehyung.

“...It’s not often that I meet someone who I can be so open with. I called the man you recommended and I’ve scheduled my first session with him tomorrow.”  

You freeze, unable to fully comprehend what he’s saying, surely he misspoke. It can’t be his first session. “W-what do you mean your first session is tomorrow? You were there-” The collar hidden beneath your turtleneck feels as though it’s tightening around your throat. “Last night, I saw you-” The line goes dead as the elevator closes and starts to ascend. It was Taehyung in the bed with you and Namjoon last night. You saw... nothing you saw nothing because of the blindfolded that you were asked to wear.

“Everything okay?” You jump at the sound of the other voice, forgetting that some else had gotten into the elevator. Looking up you find Jimin there beaming at you, his head tilted from his query.

“Namjoon,” You flutter with your phone, too panicked to even greet your secretary properly. “I need to call Namjoon.” But the line won’t connect, not with you in the elevator. “Fuck...” You try again your patience not willing to wait the minute it’ll take to disembark on your floor.  

You are almost there when the elevator shudders and stops. The sudden halt sends you off balance, but Jimin’s there to grab hold of you before you can fall. You thank him before stepping back and putting a bit of distance between the two of you again.

Jimin turns his attention to the panel, pushing the call button, he waits for someone to answer, but the call remains silent. 

While he continues in his attempt to make contact, every scene of the night before floods back to your memory as you try to piece everything together. It was Taehyung, it had to be. He must just be playing a stupid joke. He was surely going to shout ‘gotcha’ before the phone disconnected, but you won’t know for certain until someone can get you off this blasted lift. You sink to the floor and Jimin follows, unable to reach anyone on the outside. 

Despite your best efforts to rationalize what happened, your panicked breaths fail to slow, Spots start appearing in your vision as the elevator sways around you. Your breakfast threatens to make another appearance on the polished marble floor. 

“It’ll be fine. Someone will notice soon.” Jimin attempts to comfort you but even that won’t quash the fear raging inside you.

“It’s not just that...” You whisper. “Something happened last night. I need to call Namjoon, I need to figure out...” Who was actually in that bed with you. Your confusion and panic break free sending you into a fit of tears as you hug your knees to your chest.

“Hush, it’s okay.” Jimin readjusts, moving in front of you and taking your hands in his. He leans towards you as he whispers in your ear. “Don’t cry babygirl.”

Your eyes snap to look at Jimin in alarm. Your prior worries are nothing compared to the terror which takes hold now. “H-how do you know that name?” Your stuttered words barely make their way past your lips.

“I think you know the answer to that question.” He pulls at the collar of his shirt allowing you to spot a large red mark on his neck, right where you had bitten the man you once thought to be Taehyung. “I wanted to wait a bit longer, I wanted more moments like we had last night but it would seem that someone had to go and ruin it.” You pull back but Jimin’s hands shift to take hold of your wrists, mimicking the manacles that embraced you the night before. “Are you not happy babygirl? You got your wish. And I... I got what I’ve always wanted.”

“This is so wrong Jimin! You knew I thought you were someone else! You knew that I wouldn’t have done that last night if I knew the truth.” 

“Even though I was the one you really wanted babygirl?”

“Stop calling me that! Just because of what happened last night does not make me yours. You lied to Namjoon. You said that I sent you. You told him you were Taehyung!”

Jimin gives a wicked laugh in response to your accusations. “Oh, but you are mine. Namjoon is the one who’s been keeping things from you. He’s been in my employ far longer than yours.” He coos as his fingers tighten their grip on you. “I was the reason you were introduced to him, and I was the one who bestowed you with that name shortly after.”

“No, that’s not possible, Namjoon and I, we met at a charity event.”

“Hosted by my father. Where I told him to make himself known to you, to entice you to become one of his pets. I may have acted the sub last night but I am the one who holds Namjoon’s reins, I always have.”

“No he would never do that! He’s considerate and-”

“Had so much to gain by dominating you on my behalf. Money, power, and an assurance of safety, he would’ve been a fool to turn my offer down. Especially since you were so willing to play along with him. I dare say he enjoyed his time with you, but I was the one who permitted him to touch you. I was there to listen, to read, and to direct every conversation. Those gifts he told you to wear to the office, they were all from me.” He lets go of one of your wrists to pull down the neck of your shirt. Revealing the leather band strapped around your neck. “Today it’s the collar, yesterday it was the corset, and a few weeks ago...” Jimin smirks as he recalls the memory to your mind. “You barely made it through that meeting thanks to my gift.”

  It’s impossible to swallow the admissions coming from him, but regardless of what may be true or false, you won’t stand for any of it. “You’ve had your fun, but this ends now.” You reach up attempting to remove the collar but Jimin pushes you to the floor pinning your arms above you as he straddles you. The elevator wavers from the struggle, teetering as you lay captive beneath him. 

“I don’t think you understand the situation you’ve placed yourself in. I hold in my possession your darkest secrets. One’s that will ruin you if they make their way out. Your illegal activity with a sex worker, your inappropriate sexual conduct with your secretary. Not to mention the names and dubious activities of every client you’ve recommended to Namjoon’s services.”  

“Why... why are you doing this?” 

“Because you found me. I worked so hard to exploit my father from the outside, getting everything I wanted without the threat of public exposure. I couldn’t let you ruin it all. When we first met I considered you a threat, but then I saw how easy and enjoyable it was to mould to my will. The more intimate you become with someone the more power you give them over you. Simply being your secretary isn’t enough, not if I want you in a more pliable state.” Jimin hushed whisper mixes with a haunting giggle as his lips come to your ear. “I plan to bend you to fit every one of my needs.”

“You’re psychotic!” You lash out trying to throw him off but he stems your revolt by planting himself further down on to you, sitting on your chest as the elevator sways.

“Psychotic? No, I am simply a man who found his passion amidst his revenge. I know what I desire, and vengeance has taught me how best to take it. So if you want to keep yourself and everything else around you from falling, I suggest you play along like a good girl. Or I promise you, my punishments won’t be as kind as what you’ve experienced before.”

“What is it that you want?” You ask, already fearing his answer. He has you trapped in a gilded cage with him, where one misstep will send you plummeting to meet your end. Nothing that comes accompanied by such threats can be palatable.

“At work? To keep the status quo, I’ll remain your secretary, only so I can keep a better hold on you.” 

“Hoseok won’t agree to that. He already thinks I should ditch you. I should have listened to him.” 

“Then you will make him agree or he might have an accident, much like your accountant did. He too thought we were too close, even threatened to say something. Don’t worry I saved us from him, just as I’ll save us from Hoseok if you can’t convince him to back off. Do you think you can get him to agree now?”

You give a solemn nod, with Hoseok on the line you have no choice.

“After hours, we’ll drop the middleman.” Jimin lowers himself further on to you, laying down on top, his weight flattening you to the floor. With his head coming to rest on your restrained arm as he whispers further plans. “Every night you’ll come to me instead, and every morning you’ll have a new gift to wear. When we step off this elevator you’ll act as if nothing is wrong. You will go about business as usual, is that clear babygirl?”

You stifle a sob staring directly up and away from his eyes, not daring to give him the satisfaction of your fear. With little else to cling to, all you can do is agree for the time being, as much as it pains you, you choke out your compliance. “Yes...” 

“Yes what?” Jimin purrs, his lips faintly touching your ear. “Address me properly, or I will find ways to discipline you right here on this lift.” His fingers tighten and nails bite into your skin.

“Yes sir,” you whine as a plea for him to stop. 

Jimin mercifully lessens his hold on your wrists, hitting you instead with a smirk and befouled praise. “Good girl. I knew you’d finally see that I’m worth the risk.”

...

[forzalando]

The Perfect Arrangement | George Weasley | Pt. 2

Pairing: George Weasley x F!Reader AU: Bridgerton!AU Word Count: 2.2k Warnings: Bridgerton spoilers, a gross man stepping into your personal space, definitely not historically accurate bc i never mention chaperones 

Summary: As a woman in the early 19th century, you’ve been told all your life that marriage should be your ultimate goal, however, you do not share that sentiment. When the insufferable George Weasley devises a plan that may solve both your problems, how can you say no?

A/N: woohoo, part 2 is here!! not a whole lot of drama/interaction between George and the reader but some necessary developments. plus! Eloise! my favorite lady! as always, thank you so much for reading💛

“George, everyone is staring at us,” you whispered as you took his arm.

“Well, we are the most attractive couple promenading this morning, don’t you think?”

You stifled a laugh; partly because you didn’t want to draw more attention to yourself and partly because George’s ego was large enough without knowing you thought he was funny.

“Should I glare at the men staring at you? Let them know that they don’t have even an ounce of a chance?” George asked.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt,” you mused. “However, I don’t know how your sister would feel if every eligible man in the ton held disdain for her older brother.”

“Oh, please,” George scoffed. “You know as well as I do that Ginny is marrying Harry, it’s just a matter of time.”

You hummed in agreement, though slightly distracted by the way George held you so close. It was unnerving how comfortable you felt with him; most men had always made you uncomfortable, but never George. Even though he was incorrigible, garish, and irritatingly handsome, he never made you feel anything but at ease.

“Lord Beverly is approaching us,” George whispered, pulling you from your thoughts.

“Quick, say something funny and make me laugh, maybe he will turn around.”

“I’m not your jester, nor can I make you laugh on command. Comedy is derived from opportunity, and here, I have none, just your orders.”

“Now we’re quarreling, he’s walking even faster.”

“That’s your fault for acting like my sense of humor is at your beck and call!”

You turned sharply to face him; a scowl settled on your face and nostrils flaring. He was looking at you the same, with his eyes narrowed and a slight blush on his cheeks, whether it was from the summer heat or anger you couldn’t be sure. George opened his mouth to speak again, when someone interrupted him.

“Is this why you wouldn’t give me the honor of a dance at the Danbury ball, Miss Y/L/N?”

Lord Beverly was stood directly in your path, his hands clasped behind his back and a smarmy  smile on his face. He may have been handsome, but Philip Beverly was as horrid as men came.

“I do apologize, Lord Beverly,” you retorted, sickly sweet. “Mr. Weasley has been the object of my affections for quite some time now and I simply could not bring myself to imagine myself with anyone but him all night.”

You looked up at George and smiled, staring into the warmth of his eyes and heaving a dramatic sigh; one you hoped was the sigh of a woman in love.

“Yes, I suppose I understand your trepidation,” Lord Beverly scowled. “However, I have been speaking with your father this morning and I believe Mr. Weasley has not yet proposed, is that correct? Lord Y/L/N made it quite clear he has not received any mentions of a proposal.”

“Why, yes, of course he hasn’t. He has barely begun courting me, the season only began a week or so ago.”

“You’ve known each other for years, surely you must know by now if you are to propose, Mr. Weasley?”

George looked to you for guidance, just as confused as you at the interrogation taking place between the two of you and Beverly.

“As Miss Y/L/N said before, we’ve barely begun courting. I have always had the intention of marrying her, ever since we were children, but I wanted to make sure we are comfortable as partners, not just friends.”

“I am quite wealthy, you know,” Beverly reminded. “My family has considerably higher standing than the Weasley’s and there is so much more I could offer you than he can, Y/N.”

Lord Beverly took a step towards you, completely ignoring George standing beside you, but before you could ask him to step away, George thrust himself in between the two of you.

“If you ever so much as look at my future wife again, I assure you that you will see just how much influence my family has, Lord Beverly,” George spat. “You flaunt your money, your perceived power, when I have friends in much higher places than you could ever dare to dream.”

Philip backed away; his ever present smirk still adorning his face but he could not hide the glint of fear in his eyes.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be on my way,” Beverly grimaced.

“Yes, you shall,” George responded with a glare that would frighten even the most courageous of men.

As soon as Lord Beverly was out of earshot, you breathed out deeply. There was something about that man that made your skin crawl, more so than the other slimy, rich men of the ton.

You laughed quietly, and kept laughing until you were in a fit of giggles, prompting George to look at you quizzically.

“Y/N, what could possibly be so funny about being accosted by that scum?”

“I’m not entirely sure, I just find it amusing how intimidating you can be when you really try. You should be an actor, you know.”

“An actor? Why do you think so?”

“You played the part of a jealous lover far better than I ever could. One might believe you’re actually in love with me,” you snickered.

If you had looked at George for even a moment after your joke, you would have seen the hurt expression flash across his face. He tried to keep it at bay, but the reminder of the nature of your relationship ate at him far more than he imagined.

He had convinced himself that in time, your feelings for him would grow; how could they not when he was so sure that you were soulmates? Destined to be together for the rest of your lives? In doing so, he never stopped to think of the consequences of his actions if you were to never return his affections.

George began to wonder if his heart could bear it, because every time he looked at you and saw your beautiful smile, he felt it breaking piece by piece.

“What do you say to that, Weasley?” you asked with a smile, breaking George from his thoughts.

“I’m…I’m sorry, I was distracted, what were you saying?”

“Pay attention, Georgie, otherwise you might lose your only current prospect for marriage.”

“You’re my only prospect, period, not just current,” he chuckled.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to believe the weight behind his words was truthful, that your courtship was real and true. You’d convinced yourself for years that you held George Weasley in no higher regard than an acquaintance, but at any given moment where you were in the same room you always found your way to each other; bantering back and forth that, to an outsider, must have looked like disdain, but in your heart you knew that you held him at arm’s length to keep yourself from falling.

It had only been a week since the Danbury ball, but spending every day in secret with George (the two of you weren’t quite ready to announce to the public yet until today) and getting to know him as more than just a friend had opened your heart to frightening feelings that you shoved aside.

George Weasley had always wanted to marry for love, an ideal that you never allowed yourself to believe in and now, he was to marry you only because the true object of his affection was not an option.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. Does that…does that bother you? Do you have any regrets about what you asked me?”

“I’m not sure yet,” George whispered, dropping your hand that he had held so tightly the entire morning.

No, you simply couldn’t allow yourself to entertain the foolish fantasy of feelings, not when you had the sole responsibility of taking care of your own heart.

“Walk me home, please, Mr. Weasley.”

“As you wish, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” cried a familiar voice from across the street.

You turned with a smile to see Eloise making her way towards you, her journal in hand as always.

“Thank you for walking me home, George, you can be on your way. I’ll see you tomorrow evening for the Norrington soiree, correct?”

“I wouldn’t miss it. Have a lovely day, Miss Y/L/N.”

He quickly raised your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. Even though you were cross with him, you smiled shyly at the feeling of his lips on your hand, though it slowly faded away as you realized it was all a show for the audience on the street.

As Eloise hurried to you, you couldn’t help but watch George’s back as he walked down the cobblestones towards his own home.

“How dare you? I had to hear from gossiping mother hens this morning that George Weasley is formally courting you? Not only that, but he plans to propose to you? What happened to never marrying? Does your family know? The whole ton has been talking about it!”

“I – I don’t understand, this morning was our first outing together, I’ve just been spending time with him at his family’s home. How could anyone possibly know – ”

You paused, remembering your conversation with Lord Beverly earlier that morning.

“Oh, for goodness sake. Lord Beverly went to my father this morning while I was out with George, asking about proposing to me.”

“LORD BEVERLY?” Eloise shouted, interrupting your explanation.

“Yes, I know. A horrid man, but I don’t believe he will be bothering me any longer. George practically had him running away in fear but, as I was saying, Lord Beverly went to my father and of course I haven’t told my parents of our marriage plans yet, we’ve only just begun courting, so Papa told Beverly that I have no prospects. He approached George and I on our promenade, and practically interrogated us! One thing led to another and George expressed his desire to propose and, well, here we are. Beverly must have opened his mouth and now everyone in town knows.”

Eloise stared at you blankly, her wide eyes blinking rapidly trying to process all that you had just told her.

“Are you in love with George?”

“It appears so…”

You hated lying to her, but you and George hadn’t discussed if you would ever tell anyone and who you trusted to tell in the first place.

“Well, it’s about time!” Eloise yelled in your ear.

“I – excuse me?”

“Oh, you can’t possibly tell me you’ve been oblivious to his feelings all these years. And your own! It’s been painful watching you drone on and on about how you’ll never marry when he’s been right in front of you since we were children.”

“Eloise, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“What do you mean, he’s courting you and is planning to propose, what is there to misunderstand?”

“Quite a lot, if I’m being honest.”

Eloise saw the guilty look on your face and immediately her jaw dropped, memories of her sister and the Duke clouding her thoughts.

“Of all the lousy schemes to get yourself involved in, Y/N, I cannot believe you. It’s all a ruse?! Is this a common theme with the prized debutante of the season, am I missing something?”

“Quiet yourself, Eloise! It’s quite simple, George cannot marry the woman he loves and I do not wish to marry. We get along fairly well and have things in common. We figured it would be to both of our advantages if we married each other and were able to live our lives as we please without people breathing down our necks about marriage.”

“You are truly oblivious, Y/N.”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“George Weasley has loved you for years, I didn’t think it was a secret. The only issue is that you’re too stubborn to look past this aversion to happiness you’ve been harboring.”

“Education makes me happy. Traveling the world would make me happy. My own wants and desires make me happy. I don’t need a man or love to be happy, I thought you of all people would understand, Eloise.”

“I do understand, and because I do, doesn’t that make what I say all the more believable?”

Your reply got caught in your throat, the weight of Eloise’s words left a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“I see the way you look at him, Y/N,” she continued. “You’ve convinced yourself so greatly that there isn’t a man who will love you for who you are that you’re blind to your own affections and the fact that there is a man who loves you exactly as you stand before me. You’re just afraid. I never thought I would call you a coward – ”

“That is quite enough, Eloise,” you snapped.

“I will relish in saying ‘I told you so,” she quipped back.

You watched her turn swiftly and did the same; stalking into the courtyard and up the stairs to your own home, all the while pondering the words you had shared with Eloise.

Secretly, in the depths of your heart where you never dared to venture, you hoped that she was right about George’s feelings for you, and that thought scared you more than anything.

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[sif-the-tsunami]

The Boy of Summer

Hey, @luna-aestas​ remember when I promised you a Clark Kent fic? I think the theme was Taming... maybe?

Well here you go.

Inspired by the Ataris cover of the Boys of Summer

Summary: Clark Kent sees a vision of his past. Takes place after Justice League, so if you haven’t watched that prepare for minor spoilers.

Warnings: parental neglect, teenager shenanigans, running away, mostly fluff

pairing Clark Kent x Summer (OFC)

Word count: >1400

I saw a ghost today while I was out on a coffee break from the Daily Planet. Probably not an actual ghost, although I can’t be sure anymore. Things have been different ever since… well. My own death, I guess. I would have to reach out of my mom tonight and find out what happened to our neighbors.

But I saw her, I feel it in my bones. Summer. Sometimes my world doesn’t feel real, like I’m watching it through someone’s eyes that aren’t my own. Its hard to reconcile your own mortality when you have been mostly invulnerable for your entire life. But there she was, wearing the RayBan style sunglasses she was known for back when I knew her well. Her long dark hair was pulled back, I couldn’t see any glimpses of silver or anything. She looked as beautiful now as she did in my memories, sliding out of the driver’s seat of a black convertible Cadillac. Just like when we were in Smallville.

It felt like several lifetimes ago when we would drive around together after school or during the school breaks. She had driven herself from Los Angeles to come live with her aunt and uncle shortly after she turned sixteen. I was fifteen at the time, but my god, she just seemed like a woman to me. The girls around here had an innocence to them that Summer must have had taken away from her too young. She had spent a week, sleeping in parking lots and eating cheap fast food whenever she could get it to make it our here. Now in my thirties, I still can’t imagine what she went though to get to this tiny farming community. Her family introduced her do us the following weekend after she had settled in.

I remember the outfit she wore like it had been yesterday. She had bright red Chuck’s, black with thin gray pin strips and a Blink 182 shirt. Her right arm had a couple tattoos already, and one on her ankle. She shook my mom and dad’s hands like she was one of us her entire life. I don’t know why I thought she would be soft, but she wasn’t.

After dinner that night, I asked her about the tattoos. She gave me a half smile, and just replied that you can get away with a lot when your parents are too busy getting high to give a damn about what you were up to.  

I remember when her birthday came up that year, we had gotten her tickets to a concert in Saint Louis. Her eyes watered when she opened the card. She practically tackled me when she wrapped her arms around my neck saying thank you.

We drove through the back country highways, mooing at cows and listening to the play lists she had made for her drive to Smallville. She never made me feel stupid even though I wasn’t as worldly as she was. All these years later, whenever I hear “Rock Show,” I can’t help but think about that day. Watching her bounce around and get lifted up to crowd surf. I fell in love with her that night. This was where she belonged, unlike me. I felt like an outsider but it was just nice to see her this happy.

On the drive home, she had me take a turn behind the wheel. She fell asleep with her head in my lap. I played with her hair and just enjoyed the quiet of the road. We stopped for a little while outside of Wichita Kansas, where we laid on the backseat of her car, using our hoodies as blankets. I remember that she fell asleep with her head on my chest, and I rubbed her shoulders until I dozed off myself. I don’t think her platonic cuddles were meant to inspire the thoughts I had that night, but I found myself in the future dreaming of the smell of her shampoo and thinking of how she felt against me.

She and I stayed friends until the day someone claiming to be her father showed up and wanted to take her back Riverside. She was polite, calm even. However, when she told her uncle and aunt that she was going to drive over to our farm to say goodbye after dinner, she had already packed up her bags and put them in the trunk of the Cadillac. She came by for a moment, and told me her plan. In two days she would turn eighteen so she justified that she would just vanish. She had saved a lot of money working at a diner in town so she would be able to get set up in a new place without too much struggling. My mother heard the conversation and started crying almost immediately.

“Mrs Kent, please don’t. I promise, I’ll be safe. But I can’t go back there. I would rather be by myself than live with them again, I would be essentially be alone with really expensive rent.”

My mom gave her a quilt and a cast iron skillet, hugging her close. Summer thanked her with tears in her eyes. Dad gave her a hug as well. I walked her out to her car, gently placing the blanket and skillet in her passenger seat. I wrapped my arms around her and for the first time she feels small to me. “I love you, Summer. Please don’t leave, you could just disappear for a couple days and come back like nothing happened, we won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know Clark, I love you too. Just not the way you want me to.” She said gently touching my face. “You have been so good to me, and I will never forget that. Thank you. I can’t stay, my parents will never let us be okay.”

Before she took off, she left me with a stack of CDs that she had burned. Purple, pink and bright green discs with the songs we sang together as we drove around getting into trouble. 

“Don’t tell them where I’m going, Clark. They can’t know.” She got into the driver’s seat and took off in the wrong direction. A couple of hours later, her father, uncle and aunt came to collect her. We told them that she had been over to say goodbye but we didn’t know where she had gone. Maybe she needed to get road trip snacks?

They searched all around town for her, even venturing into Dodge City, but she had a long enough head start to get away from her father. Three days later, one of our friends found that old Cadillac with a Black Flag sticker on the back at a used car dealership in Topeka. Summer was gone and we had no idea how to find her because she didn’t want to be found. A couple months later, she would call her family in town but the calls started to go away after a while. There was a rumor she was working as a stripper in Kansas City but no one ever had the evidence to back it up. She taught me how to vanish without a trail and I used those lessons well after I had also departed.

Maybe this vision of Summer I thought I saw was just my mind trying to give myself some closure. I had missed her, and while I sometimes thought I could her heart beating in the distance, I knew if she wanted me to find her, she would have found me first. She was just that kind of lady.

The woman I thought might have been Summer returned to her black Cadillac, she was smiling and looked as radiant as ever. We locked eyes through the window, and for a moment, I think my ghost is real. Under the leather jacket she’s wearing peeks out the Blink 182 t-shirt she had gotten at the concert we went to. Even if she’s just a figment of my imagination, I feel like it’s Summer telling me she is okay where ever she is.

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

Poe Dameron x Female Reader (Armitage Hux too if you squint.)

A/N: I actually set this in my Somewhere in the Dark, Your Light Finds Me fic. You don’t have to read it to know what’s going on I do try and cover the basics so it all makes sense. On the other hand if you did want to read the fic this is full of spoilers 😅 Writer Wednesday (I bet you always look forward to my sadness….) @clydesducktape @autumnleaves1991-blog

Warnings: Possible gaslighting, mentions of infidelity, Poe is a bit of an ass. Mention of baby/pregnancy loss, mention of PTSD, arguments, alcohol mention, broken down engagement. Oh yeah it’s all sadness up in this house.

Word Count: 4276

You stared at your computer screen, the words and numbers all blurring together. Your heart was heavy, still ringing with the hurtful words from your fiancé yesterday. You hated fighting with him, you were due to get married next week but right now that was all up in the air. He had been so angry, his words like poison as he dripped them all over you. You’d seen Poe’s temper before, you’d experienced his hurtful words when he was having his PTSD moments but nothing could have prepared you for the last few months. The constant nit-picking at everything you did, trying to trip you up in a non-existent lie. This year has been awful for both of you, in fact it has been a rollercoaster since you’d met but you had hoped, together, you’d battle the darkness that threatened to cloud your relationship. Only he seemed to be feeding it now and you didn’t know what to do. There were only so many times you could tell him you weren’t cheating on him, you weren’t having an affair with your boss. You ran a hand over your forehead, didn’t they say the one doing the accusing was usually the one doing the thing they were accusing you of?

“Are you ready for some lunch before you run off and get married?” You looked up to see your boss standing next to your desk, his hand was fiddling with his cuff as he looked at you with those green eyes. His red hair was placed perfectly as always, ever looking the part as the owner of a profitable business.

“Right, lunch,” you mumbled and he smiled slightly.

“I can’t let my best accountant go without a decent lunch.”

“Is it Friday?” You asked and his gaze flickered over you quickly, the smile faltering as he saw how exhausted you were.

“Yeah it’s Friday. You were supposed to finish half an hour ago. I thought I’d missed you.”

“Oh right,” you mumbled again, going through the motions and switching off your pc. You flinched slightly when his hand brushed your elbow, your fiancé’s words suddenly loud and accusing in your mind. Armitage walked you to the lift in silence, the handles of your bag felt heavy in your hands even though there was barely anything in it. The ride was a couple of minutes long, the silence almost deafening as your boss clearly couldn’t think of anything to say and you were too trapped in your thoughts to even make a sentence let alone conversation. When the doors opened the noise of the foyer almost deafened you, Armitage let you out first and suddenly you felt like everyone was staring at you. All the chatter became whispers, accusations, rumours and you wanted to run and hide, your heart fluttering with anxiety. The sound of your name made you start slightly only to find Armitage staring at you now with real concern.

“Is this wedding jitters, or something more?” You felt frustrated with yourself which made the increasing pressure behind your eyes worse.

“It’s nothing,” you muttered.

“Ok let’s skip lunch, there is a little van by the river where we can grab a hot chocolate and have a chat.”

“Yeah ok that sounds good,” you felt yourself relaxing already. The idea of someone seeing you out for lunch with your boss was much harder to explain away than a simple drink by the river. Because you had to think about these things, what with Poe now driving himself crazy you were having an affair and you just wanted to prove you weren’t. Because you weren’t. The street your building was on was just a short walk from the river, and took you both less than a couple of minutes. Trees lined the street all rich in orange, red and gold, their leaves littered the pavement like discarded jewels. Nature had put on her autumn coat and it showed in such wondrous glory. There was a slight nip in the air but it wasn’t constant enough to warrant a coat, not this late in the day.

You leaned on the railing looking down into the water as Armitage ordered the drinks, already you felt better being out here, the smell of the water carried on the breeze and the freshness that came with the river compared to the rest of the city already blowing the cobwebs from your mind.

“Here,” you took the cup he offered you with a quiet thanks, the heat of the hot chocolate bleeding through the sleeve and you rested it on the railing. You pointed at the marshmallows floating on the surface and shot him a quizzical look. He shrugged, that telltale blush creeping over his cheeks as he leaned next to you. “You looked like you needed cheering up.”

“Well thanks,” you bumped his shoulder and he bumped you softly back.

“Are you going to tell me what is going on?” You sighed loudly, trying to expel all the bad feelings you had tumbling inside you but it didn’t work, nothing would.

“Poe thinks I’m having an affair.” There. You said it. Now it was real, taking shape out of your body. Your fiancé had been accusing you for months, but last night it had really blown up all because you worked late trying to tie everything up for leaving early today.

“What?” Asked Hux angrily. “What gives him that idea?”

“Well he’s been accusing me for months,” you swallowed some hot chocolate, hoping it would ease the emotions that were forcing their way out of you, but it didn’t. “I stayed late last night to try and finish up, you know because I’m the best…” you tried to joke but the sound of your voice made it fall flat. “Anyway, when I got home he started immediately, demanding to know where I’d been, accusing me of all sorts he just wouldn’t drop it no matter what I said and then….” You looked up at the sky desperately trying to stop the tears from falling but they did anyway, big fat ones rolling down your cheeks. “And then he left,” you said thickly. “And I haven’t heard from him since.” Armitage sighed loudly looking down at his hot chocolate.

“So he thinks you’re having an affair with someone from work? How daft is he?” He shifted next to you, turning so his back was to the river and he looked up and down the street trying to figure out what to say next. “I’m so sorry, why didn't you say something? I’d have shortened your hours or I don’t know….helped?” He offered but you shook your head.

“That wouldn’t have helped Armitage,” you replied softly, dabbing at your eyes and sniffing loudly.

“Who does he think you’re having an affair with anyway? All you do is sit at your desk, crunch some numbers, write a report and go home,” he gestured with the hand holding his hot chocolate and you tilted your head to look up at him letting out a quick bark of laughter.

“Armie, if my job was that easy I wouldn’t be having problems, anyway…”

“But what gave him the impression you’re having an affair?” He asked angrily before holding up his hands. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be prying but this has got my back up, I see how hard you work all the time you love your job.”

“I do,” you whispered.

“Why…I don’t understand?” You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth debating whether to tell him but it burned in your mouth and you wanted to see how he would react, you supposed.

“It’s you, Armitage. He thinks I’m having an affair with you.” Hux froze, his hot chocolate halfway to his mouth before he made an expression of disbelief and lowered it again.

“Me?” He turned to face you, a finger pointing into his chest. “I’m sorry, me? Poe Dameron…curly haired, finely chiselled jawline, god amongst men, Poe Dameron thinks you would choose me over him?” He leaned back against the railing, a smile playing around his mouth. “Oh yeah he really has lost the plot,” he chuckled to himself. He took a sip from his cup as you both stood there letting the news sink in, filling the cracks of the silence you both found yourself in. “But you’re getting married.” He stated, almost in quiet disappointment.

“I’m supposed to be, but how can I, if I don’t even know where he is, who he’s with.” Hux looked down at you as you leaned over the railing looking at your reflection, rippling in the water.

“He wouldn’t…” Hux started but you snorted in disbelief, cutting him off.

“He might. We’re all capable of it aren’t we?” You mused. Hux’s arm jostled you slightly as he leaned in next to you, his bright red hair almost glowing in his reflection. You turned to look at him, he was so close and you found yourself recklessly wondering what would happen if you kissed him, here, now. You’d been accused of it enough, so why not put some weight behind those accusations? For all you knew your fiancé was out doing god knows who right now….so why not right?

Hux turned to say something else but you found yourself tipping forward just at the right time and your lips met his in a surprise kiss. A kiss that neither of you pulled away from straight away. Hux backed up a step, his eyes wide with surprise and you instantly felt the flush of guilt roil through your gut.

“Oh god. Armitage I’m so sorry!” You stumbled over your own feet, clutching the railing to steady yourself. “I should go home. I need to go home.” You turned, throwing away your half empty cup into the bin and striding away before Hux could say anything to stop you.

When you opened the door to your flat you were surprised to see Poe standing in the kitchen. His arms were crossed over his wide chest, his thumb gripped between his teeth with worry and his eyes were wide when he looked up, raking over you quickly. You softly shut the door, so many questions were filling your mind you didn’t know where to start. You dumped your bag and keys on the side, opening the fridge and pulling out a bottle of wine.

“Bit early for that, isn't it?” He asked darkly. You ignored him and opened the bottle, not even bothering to get a glass. “Where have you been?” He asked.

“Work.”

“But you had a short day today?” So it begins… You turned and pointed at him, narrowing your eyes slightly.

“I’ve got a better question. Where have you been?”

“I stayed on Finn and Zorii’s sofa.” You nodded, taking a long swig from the bottle letting the lie settle before you tackled it.

“Mmm, do you want to rethink that answer or are you sticking with that story?” You saw his expression change at the not so veiled accusation.

“Damn it, why don’t you believe me?” He glowered.

“Like you believe me?” You shot at him. “When I stand here baring everything to you screaming at you that I’m not having an affair and still, still, you don’t believe me.” You felt the tears again and you bit down on your lip. “We’re supposed to be getting married in about 5 days. But right now you’re the last man I’d want to marry.” Poe rolled his eyes to the ceiling and you smirked, it always went like this. Now you were the emotional one, the dramatic one, the one who lost her head and made the argument more than it should be.

“You’re so dramatic…”

“Am I? Am I though?” He watched you with distaste as you took another gulp of wine. “Just so you know I rang Zorii last night, now either you tiptoed in when they were asleep or you’re fucking lying to me.” Poe shifted uneasily against the counter and you just knew. “You might want to start talking, flyboy.” He shrugged and for a moment you felt a blazing white hot anger course through you. Without waiting for an explanation you were never going to get you marched into the bedroom, slamming the bottle down on your bedside table and dragging out the suitcase from under the bed.

“What are you doing?” He asked heavily.

“Well I’m just deciding if it should be my stuff that goes in here, or yours.” His face twisted as his own anger boiled to the surface.

“Why don’t you fill it with your shit and then you can scurry off to Armitage!” He shouted.

“Maybe I’ll fucking do that!” You shouted back, throwing up your arms.

“I knew it!” He snarled, stepping forward and pointing at you. “I knew it, I was right you’re having an affair with him…”

“For fucks sake Poe I am NOT!”

“You pretty much just said it! So come on! When did it happen? Months ago? Maybe when you started the new job? Come on, I want details!” You ignored his ranting, gritting your teeth as you filled the suitcase with your own stuff. “Oh my god you’re actually going? I’m sure he’ll be so happy to fucking see you.”

“Oh god enough!!” You screamed, dropping more clothes into the suitcase. “You really want the details?” You asked. “You really want to know what’s been going on?”

“You know I do baby,” he sneered sarcastically. “I love it when you prove me right.” You took a quick breath, trying to steady yourself and not fall apart right now. Not yet.

“Nothing has been happening, he is my boss…”

“You’re such a lying bitch…”

“I’m not, I'm not lying!! But…” you choked off mid shout. You had to tell him, didn't you?

“Well, I’m waiting.” He rested against the door frame, his posture full of arrogance and anger as he waited for you to finish what you were saying.

“Today, we had hot chocolate by the river,” tears filled your eyes as the guilt reared up inside you. “I kissed him,” you sobbed. “It was just a peck but honestly you’ve been accusing me of worse for months and months and I thought, why the fuck not? He didn’t even see it coming, it was all me.” You looked up to see he hadn’t moved and more hot tears spilled down your cheeks. “Do you see how these accusations are hurting me?? You’re forcing me away and I don’t want to love anyone else Poe! But you make it so hard…it-it feels like we don’t fit together anymore.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He said calmly.

“What?” You whispered.

“You’re right, we don’t fit together anymore.”

“Poe…?”

“I just feel like we’re going through the motions, we’ve been through too much, it’s been damaging for us, maybe it’s time to give up.”

“I-I don’t understand?” You whispered suddenly feeling slightly woozy and you leaned heavily on the dresser. “After everything… the accident, Ben, our-our daughter and this…you asked me not to give up on you! So I didn’t, I kept fighting for us, for this! And this is how you repay me?” You turned to face him. “I gave everything to you. EVERYTHING!” He sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.

“Confession time?” You nodded, not liking his grim tone and expression. “I wasn’t at Finn’s last night…”

“No shit.” He glared at you before continuing.

“I was with Rey.” Your brain stuttered to a stop. Rey. A laugh erupted from you until you realised what he was saying.

“Oh, you were with Rey…” your hands shook as you carefully sat yourself down on the bed. Rey. She had taken Ben from you a few years ago and now….now she was taking Poe. A sob beat your chest as despair ripped through you, after all the darkness the pair of you had endured, this was how it was ending. You clutched your stomach trying to hold yourself together, everything you’d been holding back came spewing forth, the sobs were loud and fast barely giving you time to breathe.

“I’ve packed a bag already. Look,” he sighed. “I didn’t want it to come out like this.”

“Like this?” You cried. “5 days before our wedding? How long were you going to wait for Poe?” You sniffed and wiped your face. “Were you going to leave me at the altar? Or were you going to wait until we’d consummated the marriage? Or maybe you weren’t going to tell me at all!!” You shrieked.

“I would have told you, before it was too late,” he stated but you’d heard enough.

“Too late??” You stood, pointing frantically as you struggled to get your words free. “Out I want you out!”

“Listen…”

“JUST GET THE FUCK OUT!” You screamed, clawing at your own face in anguish. “I hate you! I fucking hate you!” You followed him through the flat, screaming how much you hated him, how much he’d hurt you until he slammed the front door in your face leaving you alone with only the sound of your wailing to keep you company.

You slid down the door, all the strength leaving your body and you slumped there sobbing. Finally your cries dwindled as you watched the sky through the window, seeing how it changed from the crisp blue colour with white cotton like clouds to a rich navy colour, the clouds now gold as the sun set. The need for wine drove you to get up and you hated how familiar this all felt, except when Ben had left you had turned to gin. At least when Ben had left it was more out of the blue, sure it had been hard to come back from but you hadn’t gone through the same earth shattering things with Ben as you had with Poe. But then, some things a couple just can’t come back from, you guessed. You had never stopped believing the fun loving Poe would come back to you after his accident and he did, for a time. But then the pregnancy…

The bedroom suddenly felt so empty and you noticed how certain things of his were missing, like his phone charger and his favourite pair of trainers. You sat back down on the bed, gently teasing open the drawer to reveal the tiny pink hat that had belonged to your 16 week old daughter. Running a finger over it you remembered the heartache as though it was yesterday, you hadn’t been yourself since giving birth and then losing her immediately after. You’d spiralled, quitting your job, staying at home, refusing to see anyone. It was no less than what Poe had done when he was suffering from his PTSD, but one rule for him it seemed and a different one for you. Maybe it was your fault Poe ran off with someone else, but still the bitterness filled your throat and you grimaced at the taste. You had nursed that man, looked after him, got him through one of the toughest moments of his life and he could barely do the same for you. But fucking Rey? You hiccuped slightly trying to laugh but it just came out as another sob, what a joke.

The engagement had been a bandage on a broken limb, now you thought about it. This would never have worked whether Rey had been on the sidelines or not. You slammed the drawer shut, making your way back into the kitchen you picked up your phone seeing the missed calls and messages from Ben and Zorii, Poe had obviously told them what happened. A reckless idea formed in your mind and you raced back into the bedroom, packing your suitcase in earnest as the phone rang loudly in your ear.

“Hello?”

“Armitage, I have a question for you.”

“Is this about earlier, because I really think we should talk about it more…”

“I agree. But hear me out. What if we talk about it on a plane?”

“A…what are you suggesting?”

“I have a holiday coming up…”

“You have a honeymoon you mean.”

“Not anymore.” You toyed with your lip not enjoying the silence from the other end of the phone. “Anyway, I am going on that holiday and I have a spare ticket. I’ll send you the details and you can decide if you want to come or not.”

“Alright….” He sounded hesitant but you didn’t care. He either came and you had a great time together or he didn’t and you had a great time anyway.

“I’m heading to my parents for a few days, but I will be at the airport on Wednesday. Come, or don't, it's up to you.” Putting the phone down you let out a long exhale not believing what you had just done. You just invited your boss to your honeymoon? What on earth were you thinking? God, you were so damn reckless at times! You dialed another number, sitting your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you packed everything you could.

“Mum, don’t freak out but I have some news….”

You got to the airport early, you were always early. The fear of being late was an absolute curse especially when it came to catching planes, trains, busses or basically anything that could leave without you.

You stood in the airport car park enjoying the way the cooler autumn air rushed over you. Soon you’d be replacing it with heat and sun but for now you were going to remember this. It was cleansing in a way, the freshness of it dancing over your skin, the rich rustle of the golden leaves in the crisp breeze. Taking a few deep breaths to try and calm your fluttering nerves before heading inside.

You tried not to look at your watch, you tried not to scan the crowd every 5 seconds looking for that shock of red hair. You hadn’t contacted him and he hadn't contacted you which was fine. It was fine.

The few days you’d had at your parents had been fraught, your mum cried more than you did as you cancelled as much as you could trying to get a fraction of the money you laid out back into your bank account. Your Dad, he been quiet, stewing over a man he’d accepted into the family had done this to his baby girl….he asked you not to date anymore because his heart couldn’t take the strain. You’d had a conversation with Zorii and Ben, talking them both down from hunting Poe down and ripping his balls from his body, well that's what Zorii said. Ben had been quiet, too quiet and you wondered if he remembered the way he left, with the same woman. You didn’t care, you were going on holiday by yourself it seemed. Ok you did care, you cared so much it threatened to consume you, to rob you of all function as you walked through the airport but you shoved it all aside. You’d deal with it later, that was a problem for future you, post holiday you.

You cast one last look around for that head of ginger hair, disappointment filling your chest and you blinked back whatever was happening with your eyes because you refused to shed more tears here. You handed your ticket over and strode into the plane with your head held high. Settling in your seat you immediately put your headphones in and watched out of the window trying not to think of how different this should be. You should be happy, newlyweds, all excited and flushing with joy. You should be holding hands and performing hideously embarrassing PDAs, you should be giggling and loving life, not slumped here with your face pressed against the window.

The music blared loudly in your ears, you didn’t notice when someone took the seat next to you, too lost in your pit of despair you barely managed to wipe your face dry. Something tapped on your arm and you ignored it wishing whoever it was would get the message and piss off. It happened again and you sat up ready to spew some horrible words but they all choked and died in your throat when your gaze locked with his pale green eyes. A soft smile rested easily on his face but it slipped when he saw your distraught expression, you pulled the headphones off not even daring to believe he came.

“Hi,” he said quietly.

“Oh…hi.” He reached out and swiped a thumb under your eye, catching the fresh tears that welled up and trickled down your cheek.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I wanted to be here earlier but…work.” You gasped through a sob and nodded.

“It’s ok.” You pressed the heels of your hands firmly into your eyes creating those white splodges all over your vision as you fought so hard to bring yourself back from the edge of that black pit that called your name all the time. “I’m ok,” you sobbed. Armitage snaked an arm around you and pulled you into his shoulder.

“Listen, we are going to enjoy this holiday, we are going to have a great time and drink and eat, we are going to go to the beach and you are going to sunbathe while I hide in the shade,” you chuckled though another sob. “So good times only, until we get back and have to face the music of reality. Deal?” His finger and thumb gripped your chin lightly making you look up at him and you managed a watery smile.

“Deal.”

[jokertrap-ran]

(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 2-5: 时间针脚 The Patchwork of Time Translation

“What are you standing around in a stupor for? See a ghost?”

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Behind the glass wall were several blurry figures busying around.

MC: This should be Team A's area.

Mya had suddenly called a few minutes ago to give me directions to the place I was supposed to report to.

I ran what I was going to say to everyone, in the form of an introduction, through my head once more before gently clearing my throat and opening the door.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Hello everyone, I'm—

Thunk!

The sound of metal heavily hitting the floor cut my words short as the handle of the door completely fell off.

MC: !?

Did I break it? No way! I broke the office's door on my first day here!?

I didn't quite know what to do for a while. One of the figures closest to the door turned slightly around at the noise.

He had a head full of spiky hair, like that of a hedgehog. He didn't spare even a glance at the door handle; instead, his gaze fell directly upon my person. He shot up from the seat of his workstation.

??: Yoooooou!!

MC: Sorry! It wasn't on purpose, I swear!

??: You're the newcomer that's supposed to be coming in today, right? Sister Zheng Lin, we've got an extra hand!

He excitedly yelled at the other end of the office.

This isn't quite turning out like how I imagined it to be...

Summoned by his yell, a plump woman speed-walked towards us. Her smile was friendly, but there was a sort of unconcealable exhaustion marring her features.

Zheng Lin: Hello. Welcome to Team A. I'm the leader, Zheng Lin.

MC: Hello. Um… I accidentally broke your door handle just now… Sorry…

??: Aw, that thing's been dead half a month ago. We just didn't have time to call someone down to fix it. Don't mind it, yeah?

??: C'mere. I'll bring you to your workstation. Your stuff looks pretty heavy. I'll take it for you, yeah?

He enthusiastically takes the office appliances I'd brought in from my hands and continues walking straight ahead.

Zheng Lin: That works too. I'll leave you to bring her around to meet the others then, Brother Mao. I'll come over once I'm finished up here.

I nodded, following after "Brother Mao".

Brother Mao: I'm Mao Ge, but you can call me Brother Mao! The best rock singer among all Designers here!

He grinned, pulling out a chair and gesturing for me to sit. He then magicked out a rag from god-knows-where and quickly gave the table a wipedown.

Brother Mao: You were 2nd place in the contest, right? We all watched the broadcast; it was absolutely brilliant.

Brother Mao: Especially when you chose Director Qi of all people. Boy, that was a killer! How did you dare to pick him?

Brother Mao: Forget his face, even his breath alone is an icy sub-zero.

Brother Mao: Ever seen an iron tree bloom? I'd say even that's slightly more common than seeing Director Qi smile.

Brother Mao: I'm not talking about his cold smiles, of course. We see that way too often.

MC: Eh? … I just thought getting him to review my work was a rare chance that I couldn't pass up on.

Brother Mao: You go, girl! Looks like we've finally got a competent person in Team A! Feel free to ask me anything if you face any problems in the future! I've gotcha covered!

He grinned, patting himself on the chest to further emphasize his point. He'd already assembled and laid out all of my office appliances on the table at some point in our conversation.

Brother Mao: Alright, everyone! Put everything down. Let me introduce to you our new buddy, (Y/n)!

All the people around me nodded in greeting as Brother Mao introduced them to me one-by-one.

Brother Mao: The one dressed in a Cheongsam is Li Man'man. She came here a minute earlier than you and braved through 3 interviews just to enter Warson.

Li Man'man: Hi, nice to meet you.

Brother Mao: And that's Chen Che, our team's tailoring genius. He's been here for nearly 4 years and has just been promoted to a Senior Designer.

The guy named Chen Che raised his head from the multitude of fabric surrounding him. He adjusted his glasses and gave me a wary look.

Chen Che: Hello.

It was at this moment in time that a guy sporting a quiff hairdo walked past us. His head was haughtily raised and his expression was one of utter disdain.

Man With Quiff Hairstyle: Hmph.

MC: And he is…?

Brother Mao: Don't mind him. He's an annoyance. He just failed the promotion test and is being the green-eyed monster to everyone right now.

I only nodded, not knowing what to say.

Brother Mao: That one over there's Hao Shuai, the trendsetter of Team A and also the King of Werewolf games.

Hao Shuai: Wanna play Werewolf? I'll host one next time, but not now...

Hao Shuai buried his face with a sullen expression as Brother Mao quietly pulled me aside to a corner.

Brother Mao: He's not been in too jolly of a mood these few days. He didn't manage to get promoted to Senior Designer, so he's been pretty depressed about it.

MC: Sounds like it's very hard to get promoted up a rank...

Brother Mao: Precisely! Although Warson has a rank promotion system in place, the way things are being assessed in them makes it scarily hard! People normally have to do it five or six times before they manage to get themselves promoted.

Brother Mao: And, you might even get demoted a rank if the work you turn in doesn't make the cut!

MC: That strict!?

Brother Mao: I'm a Junior Designer like you. I've already taken the assessment around…

Zheng Lin: 10 times.

Brother Mao: You remember all so well, Sister Zheng Lin.

He gallantly retrieved another chair for Zheng Lin to sit on, seemingly paying no heed to the embarrassing number of tries he'd gone through.

Brother Mao: Don't they say that failure's the mother of success? I just have to get a couple more of those and it'll net me a great success!

I laughed at his joke along with Zheng Lin.

Zheng Lin: Our assessment system is just stricter than others.

Zheng Lin: Even though everyone is free to design whatever they like with their creativity as the limit, becoming an actual Fashion Designer is some serious business.

Zheng Lin: Those capable of joining us here in Warson are all talented individuals. Hence, what's really being tested in those assessments are your passion and perseverance.

Zheng Lin: I've welcomed hundreds upon hundreds of rookies during my 10 years here in Team A, but most of them drop out after failing the assessment 3-4 times.

MC: Eh?

Zheng Lin: Firstly, everyone who first comes here holds high self-esteem, so they're a bit more sensitive to criticism. And it is only natural for people to find it unbearable, especially after having been criticized a lot.

Zheng Lin: Secondly, there's a limit to the type of jobs that can be given to Assistants and Junior Designers, so things often end up being boring and repetitive

Zheng Lin: It's hard to go on like that if you don't have the right sort of determination.

MC: ……

Zheng Lin was about to say more when the door slammed open with a "bang!". Several people stood at the entrance, worry written all over their anxious faces.

Colleague A: Can someone consolidate all of Sliver's Autumn-Winter fabrics into a document?

Colleague A: I still have to go down to the mall and conduct surveys and research so I won't be able to do that in time!

Colleague B: Some trouble cropped up regarding the visas of the foreign models who're slated for a shoot next week, so we need another 18 new ones!

Colleague B: What should I do, Sister Zheng Lin!?

Zheng Lin gave a helpless sigh.

Zheng Lin: I'd originally wanted you to let you get used to things around here, but we have our hands full… Do you mind helping us?

MC: … Sure thing!

Zheng Lin: Then, could you first help us by going to the warehouse and picking up Silver's Autumn-Winter fabrics and consolidating them into a sample book after?

Zheng Lin: You can get Brother Mao to help you check it through once you're done.

I nodded and joined the fray.

Time went by. And finally, I finished my very first task after an hour. Brother Mao told me to take it up to the Team A representative who was in the meeting after checking through it.

❖☆———————————★❖

It was clearly noon soon, yet the doors of the meeting rooms on both sides of the corridor were still tightly shut, I could occasionally hear the sound of loud discussions coming from within.

❖☆———————————★❖

MC: Excuse me, I'm here to deliver the fabric samples.

Pushing the door open, I saw a Designer who was in the middle of loudly explaining his idea while Sariel held a pen, looking down at the document in his hand.

All the other Designers were either listening intently or hurriedly sketching out their new ideas, having been struck by a sudden wave of inspiration. It was almost as if the very air itself was crackling with ideas, going head to head with each other, gathering and merging into a brand new storm of ideas.

I’m going to be taking part in meetings with everyone in the future too… I couldn’t help but jump for joy at the exciting notion.

Placing the fabric catalogue book down, I couldn’t stop myself from taking one last glance at the meeting room before I left.

❖☆———————————★❖

Brother Mao: Oh, right. Don't forget to retrieve the catalogue book once the meeting upstairs is done.

MC: Okay.

❖☆———————————★❖

Everyone left after the meeting ended. I picked up the scattered pieces of fabric, stacking them neatly into a pile. It was only then that I noticed a pen lying on the ground.

The pitch-black pen was see-through, slender, and sturdy, with three gold-stamped petals at the very end.

MC: This is...

An image of Sariel wielding this pen with his head bowed in thought appeared in my mind.

MC: Is this pen his? It certainly suits that icy countenance of his...

❖☆———————————★❖

I bent down to pick it up, but the moment my fingers brushed against it… I suddenly felt an inexplicable sharp jolt of pain piercing my head.

My heart clenched violently, almost as if a nightmare that had been buried deep within its depths was about to be awakened. The stifling feeling of sadness and despair washed over me together with the odd feeling of my heart having been impaled by something.

What’s going on?

I pressed against my chest, trying to get through this sudden bout of pain that came out of seemingly nowhere.

Sariel: What's going on here?

There seems to be a faint voice ringing through my ears. The pen was taken away from me the next moment. Gone with it were the odd sensations.

I blearily looked at Sariel who had suddenly popped up from nowhere, still slightly woozy in the head.

Sariel: What are you standing around in a stupor for? See a ghost?

MC: I don't know what happened to me earlier…

Sariel: That's what I'd like to ask you.

☆Light Choice: Explain what you felt earlier

I shook my head, trying to recall that odd sensation you felt earlier.

MC: I… My chest and head just suddenly started hurting.

MC: I know I’m in the meeting room right now, but it kind of felt as if I wasn’t here at the same time…

MC: Like a nightmare, you can never wake up from…

Sariel’s expression changed minuscule bit upon hearing the word “nightmare”.

Sariel: How about now?

MC: I'm fine now, and the uncomfortable feeling's also gone.

Sariel: Has this happened before?

MC: Once…?

★Night Choice: Conceal what you felt earlier

MC: I just felt a little light-headed… I'm okay now.

MC: Oh, right. I picked up your pen.

I pointed towards the pen that he'd already reclaimed, which was now in his hand. Sariel only frowned.

Sariel: You felt light-headed after picking up this pen?

It was only when he mentioned it that I realized that that seemed to be the case. But what would a pen have anything to do with a bout of dizziness?

Sariel coldly grabs my hand, making my heart stop cold in my chest. However, all he did was stare at it in silence for a few seconds before releasing me just as quickly.

MC: What are you looking at? Is there something wrong with my hand?

Sariel: Nothing. It's well and fine.

What's up with Sariel? Grabbing my hand out of nowhere like that and not even telling me the reason why...

So, I ended up giving my hand a thorough check as well. There was nothing off about it, but I couldn't help feeling a little worried.

I'd also experienced some "auditory hallucinations" back then at the rooftop…

MC: Maybe I should go get myself a check-up at the hospital just in case…

Sariel: You look pretty peppy on your feet to me. Doesn't seem like there's anything physically wrong about you.

His gaze smoothly slides up from my face to the top of my head as he spoke.

Sariel: Though, I can't say the same about the other parts of you.

MC: ……!

I was fuming, yet I didn't dare to express it with a vehement glare. Seeing how riled up I was at it, yet unable to do anything about it, a flicker of a smirk made its way up to a corner of his mouth.

This was my second time seeing him smile today… The iron tree has bloomed…

Sariel: Are there flowers growing on my face?

I shook my head.

Sariel: A ghost then?

I shook my head again.

Sariel: Then why are you looking at me as if you've just seen a monster?

MC: You just smiled. It's too rare of a sight.

Sariel: … How stupid.

He put on a straight face as he pocketed his pen and turned to head out.

Suddenly remembering something, I hurriedly pushed the door open and ran after him.

MC: Wait a minute, Director Qi! Are you free right now?

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 2-3) | Next Part: (Chapter 2-8)

[supernaturalnovelsandmore]

Supernatural Novel: The Unholy Cause

Welcome to my review of the fifth Supernatural novel, The Unholy Cause

Author: Joe Schreiber

Timeline: Set after Episode 5.08 Changing Channels but before Episode 5.16 Dark Side of the Moon

Location: Mission's Ridge, Georgia

Synopsis: As the pressure mounts for the upcoming apocalypse, Sam and Dean head to the historic town of Mission's Ridge, GA, where the Civil War is less about the past and more about the present. With interference from Castiel, demons, and Judas Iscariot himself, how can Sam and Dean prevent a major catastrophe from befalling this small town?

Review: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Warning: Spoilers abound!

After the last book, I was really hoping to see an improvement in this one, and boy did I! I've finally hit the Supernatural tie-in novel I was hoping to read from the beginning! It read like an actual episode, I could hear the actors speaking through the character's words, and I really couldn't find anything that contradicted canon.

In addition, the actual storyline was compelling and the side characters interesting. With the other novels I've reviewed, it's taken me most of the day to read them because I kept getting distracted. This one, I read straight through without stopping. I love reading a book like that!

Side note: This novel does dive in to Christian theology and the story of Judas Iscariot (who betrayed Jesus). If you are uncomfortable delving into that portion of Christianity, you may not want to read the book or this review (though my review notes about that will be minimal).

Now, since I don't have any canon vs. non-canon comparisons to make, today's review is simply going to be a list of my favorite scenes and how certain scenes relate to what's going on during this period in Season 5.

Cameo!

Sam and Dean are informed of the case by one Rufus Turner! He's only in it for a brief bit, but he's still funny as heck asking the police to pay his dry-cleaning bill.

We get a nice character introduction of enigmatic (clueless) Castiel who's trying to heal Civil War reenactors who are understandably frightened of him. He's still searching for God at this point, but we also get this nice character beat for him:

"I walked the battlefields of the South a hundred and sixty years ago," Castiel replied, a faraway look entering his eyes. "I moved among the men and brought their souls to glory. And now..." Something moved over his face for just an instant, so rare and brief that Dean almost didn't catch it; a flicker of hope. "And now," he repeated, "I'm healing again."

Of course, Dean has to explain that none of the reenactors actually need healing and he goes back to being determined to find a 'First-order witness' - someone who broke bread with Jesus Christ.

I found this part surprising within the book, but as I thought about it, it made more sense. The TV series has to tread a very careful line with Christianity so as not to offend a bunch of viewers, but the books have a much smaller audience and can take these liberties. Personally, I was fine with it. They didn't go too deep and stuck with the witness being Judas (who doesn't exactly have a great reputation to begin with).

There's a fantastic brotherly moment where Sam shares the sheriff's name (Jack Daniels) and they then go back and forth trying to guess what this Jack person is like i.e., fat vs. skinny, bald vs. hairy...

Dean: "Nam vet. Buford Pussar type. From Walking Tall." Sam: "Deliverance refugee. Civil citations all over his desk."

One of things I love about this book is the brother's relationship. This banter and other character beats really feel authentic as opposed to the prior novels. (I won't spoil what the sheriff is actually like - needless to say, they play a major role in the book.)

Just a few pages later from this great banter, we're back to the drama as Sam and Dean argue about a nightmare Sam had that he can't remember, but which could be relevant to the case.

"What's this about Dean?" Sam demanded, "Is it about you not trusting me? Because if it is, there's not a whole lot of places we can go from there." "Yeah, you're my brother," Dean said. "But you're also Lucifer's prom dress, and if he's seeding your dreams with hints about the master plan, then maybe it might be a good idea for you to look at 'em as close as possible. That's all I'm saying."

And of course, Dean gets concerned about Sam as they split up to cover more ground. It's music to my ears! There are a number of other conversations like this that really emphasize the strained relationship Sam and Dean display in Season 5.

Another surprising character beat is the influence of Lucifer on Sam because as he's doing research at the local historical society, Sam (and the historian) are surprised to find out he can read Coptic, an ancient Egyptian language. It startles Sam and once again emphasizes how different he is.

At a particularly gruesome crime scene (a mass grave), there's a brief moment with Dean that really shines as he looks down on the skeletons in the mass grave and finds a similarity to what he did in Hell:

Because that was what he did after spending years down there, doing what he'd done... Through sheer force of will, Dean shoved those notions aside...Now more than ever he didn't want that experience contaminating the way he looked at the world... not that he had a choice. Hell had been his Vietnam. It had stamped its mark on him for all eternity, and no amount of denial or self-imposed ignorance was going to change that.

There's an additional moment of traumatized Dean that I wish they could have shown in the tv series:

Sam: "Are those bloodhounds?" Dean didn't answer... When Sam finally caught a look at his brother's face, he saw that Dean's cheeks and forehead had gone absolutely white, as if every drop of blood had been sucked away... "They're not hellhounds, Dean, they're just dogs..." Dean didn't answer. He was still listening to the barking and howling noises coming closer, crashing through the undergrowth. He seemed paralyzed by the sounds.

There are more to these Dean passages, (too much to copy), but I really like that we see actual effects of past experiences.

There's also a nice scene with Sam and a young teenager that really highlights his ability to connect with kids around that age (of which we see later in the TV series):

"My brother and I grew up without a Mom, too," Sam said... "It wasn't always easy... Not everybody gets that." "I still dream about her sometimes, you know? Even though I was young when she... when it happened," Nate blinked at Sam. "Weird, huh?" "Are they good dreams?" "Yeah." "Then it's good. That's your way of remembering her."

The last third of the book is very action-oriented and has multiple instances of hurt Sam and hurt Dean, with the requisite caring from each brother.

Once again, I've gone on too long, but I'll end with a couple of favorites: Humor:

The sheriff glanced out the window, (referring to Baby) "And haul that piece of crap car to the impound lot. I don't want it cluttering up my street." "Woah!" Dean snapped, a sudden rush of anger rising in his face. "Watch your damn mouth. You can't just---"

Drama:

"This is blood money," Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out the Shekel. "Bobby says the only way anybody gets their hand on this..." The rest of the sentence was getting stuck in his chest, and he made himself finish it, "is by betraying someone you love." Dean stared at him. "Dean..." "Look," Dean broke in. "Don't get too hung up on it, okay? It doesn't necessarily mean anything," he stood up and brushed off his jeans. "Whatever happens between us, we'll deal with it then..."

Thanks again for reading! I'll be back again next week with War of the Sons!

[wontshutup]

Chapter 1 (Time)

Intro Chapter 2

Some notes:

It is messy messy heh.

It is long..I think

It contains season 2 spoilers

The reader is gender neutral.

Sorry If you don't like black coffee. It's for narrative purposes I swear, just bear with me.

You gazed out your window. The sun was rising, clouds clearing the sky, allowing it's light to have a better view of the outside. Soon enough the entire place would be beaming with life, people coming and going. It was warm in contrast to the past couple of days,perfect to go out for a little trip of your area, something to ease your mind and that was just what you were looking for.

Specially after another sleepless night, another nightmare, a haunting memory.

Shaking the feeling from the uncomfortable night you had, you changed out of your sweat damped pajamas. You were quick to be ready, something you picked up from your previous job, never getting out of schedule was crucial and efficiency was key for everything, no detours or anything of sorts, and so you were impeccably dressed and out of the house in less than ten minutes.

The warmth of the sun on your face relaxed your muscles, letting go of a frown you didn't even notice you had been wearing.

Even if the day had just started, even if you were safe, even if everything had stopped, dread was a feeling that accompanied every morning, every step you took, it was the small pleasures like these the ones that helped, they brought you a slight sense of peace. With the warm feeling, you made your way to get breakfast in your favorite café around the area. But there was a feeling, impossible to ignore, that something would happen today.

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

The morning light hit the scribbled surface of the desk Five had now used to keep on tracing the equations that long ago didn't fit in the piece of paper anymore.

He was by now, hunched at the side of the desk, legs crossed, writing in the side of one of the desk's drawers. To the slight change of light Five sucked in a breath. He had expected to have at least a minimal idea of how to proceed before dawn, where to go to, and if necessary, who to kill, besides, he would do it anytime if that ensured his family's safety.

"Hmm...Morning ol' man" Klaus's voice stopped him from falling deeper into his negative thoughts.

"Morning Klaus" He answered with a sigh. He turned his gaze towards his brother, deep dark circles under his puffy eyes. "Ooohoh, you look like shit, did you even sleep at all?" Klaus brought up trying his hardest not to break down again, forcing out a sour smirk.

This sight brought a bitter feeling to Five's chest. "Well, one could say the same about you." he answered with a thin-lipped smile.

"Well that... didn't hurt me at all..." he looked past him to the numerical carvings covering the desk. "Got anything yet?"

"Well... I got a couple of options, leads mostly, here and there" He lied and it seemed to work as Klaus straightened a little, a glimpse of hope visible in his eyes. "But staying in bed all day won't get us to any, you know that" he continued raising his voice a little, putting back his usual strong façade.

"Ow c'mon old man!...I know you are right, still..." grunted Klaus, but got up, dragging his feet out of the room. "Seems like we are the only ones awake. I'll put some coffee" he declared and with that disappeared through the door.

"I could really use some of that" Five muttered to himself. Leaning back, he really needed a break, that was what he needed, then again, he didn't knew better for 45 years.

As soon as he said that, Klaus popped his head inside the room, Five turned to look at him, already knowing what he would say.

"There isn't any coffee" Five declared tiredly, to which Klaus nodded saddly.

"Yeah...But fear not, I saw a small café down the street on our way here, bet it is already open."He said, as if trying to cheer Five up...also himself. "Lemme just...-he sighed- I am going to fix this mess of a face, you should do that too" and with that, he made his way out of the room.

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

The ringing of the doorbell announced your entrance to the place, the smell of freshly brewed coffee flooding your senses as you inhaled deep perceiving a tinge of....sugar glaze? Whatever it was, it was sweet, painting a soft smile on your features This is going to be a good day.

"Y/N!" Greeted one of the new baristas, he was a very bright person, he had been here for about a week but he already learned your name "The usual right?" This made you smile wider, he hadn't even been taking any orders the previous days and he already knew your order? "Yes please" you said while reaching for your wallet. "Mmmm, Would you please remind me what the usual is?" He said slightly embarrassed.With the wallet in hand, you raised your face, a laugh scaping your lips in return. Slipping the exact amount of money you were paying, you slid it across the counter, getting a tad closer to him, as he reached for it and half-whispered your order to him. "An individual berry pie and a strong, black coffee".

"Black? As in bitter black coffee?" He asked, eyebrows raised.

"Yeah, I like it better that way" You simply answered.

"Oook then" he said with, lightly denying with his head in disbelief. He then recomposed himself with a sense of determination. "An individual berry pie and a strong, black coffee it is!" that was a little unnecessary but, his vitality was captivating in a way, you missed being like that, mentally that is. "Want me to take it to your table lovely?" oh now he was being cocky, you just smiled at it.

 "Someone's making up for tips aren't they?"You told him lightly.

"Well, a little extra cash never hurt nobody." He said, brushing off the comment. "So, should I?"

"Yes, please" and with that, you left the counter. You wondered, if he actually knew you, if he would be as chatty as he just had.

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

The place wasn't very far but it felt miles away, the silence between the brothers making the walk heavy.

Five just kept on thinking on ways to get them back, or out of this, to just fix it all, in a way to keep them all safe. He hoped Klaus had bought the story of him having some answers, he needed them to trust him, if they didn't that would most definitely play against them. He had already known the consequences of having his family in disagreement or scattered, he, THEY, couldn't afford to get into a confrontation between them.

His mind just didn't seem to stop for a second, he knew the laws of time well enough and everything around him, in this precise timeline, bound him to fail every time. He didn't want to rush to conclusions but at this point, he was convinced they needed a miracle. HE needed a miracle.

The ringing of the entrance bell got him out of his thoughts, eyes shutting up, examining the place. He inhaled deeply, the scent of coffee bringing him a very slight sense of comfort. Maybe things weren't that bad, are they? They are until proven otherwise. He shouldn't let his guard down.

"Ok now, let's see what we'll have...I am taking hummm the french grilled cheese and a cappuccino...and you?" Klaus examined the menu in front of them as they got in the line."Let me guess, a black coffee. I don't know what's with you man, maybe add a little bit of sweetness sometimes, your bitter soul could use some"

Five scoffed. "The thing here Klaus is that black coffee allows it to be served and consumed fast, simple, no need to make a fuss out of a simple cup of coffee. Some things serve their purpose just as they are" he eyed his brother "but that's something you are too young to understand."

"An individual berry pie and a strong black coffee it is!" the barista said in an unnecessarily loud tone, causing Five to scrunch his nose.

"Well seems they are. Are you really suggesting people who like black coffee are old? I think you people are just bitter.. " Klaus told his brother while signaling to the teenager who was now making their way towards a table.

Now, in any situation, Five would've simply ignored it, he knew he had better things to pay attention to than just a mere teenager, however, they seemed oddly familiar.

They carried themselves in a way that was way beyond their years, their appearance was one of a simple young person, just about their late teens, somebody who would naturally be beaming with life, but their body language, their eyes, they suggested as if they had gone through an exhausting life, a long life. Those eyes, he had seen them countless times. Where?

 As they made their way towards the counter, he didn't tear his gaze from the teenager, scrutinizing their figure, their every move, the way they scanned the book before them, their hands went up to their scalp and tore lightly at their hair constantly, nervously.

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

"Hey kid."

"Don't" they said in a warning tone, their eyes never leaving the envelope before them.

"Just stop that already, the hair pulling, it's making me anxious" he declared visibly irritated, or was it bothered?

"Making YOU anxious? I am making the great Five anxious?" they retorted mocklingly followed by a snicker. Their perfect young skin wrinkling at it's corners, and in contrast, wise eyes looked at him. "Well then I shall not bother you anymore Old man"

******************************************************************************************* Then it clicked.

"Hey, you've been staring awful long towards them, you look like a creep. An old creep" Klaus noted. Before turning towards the cashier. "Hey! so, I will take.......

With a quick step, Five made his way towards the teenager, heart pounding in his ears. If it is who he thought it was there might just be a way to set things on the right track.

His miracle. He prayed they were.

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

As you waited for your order at a small table you took out a book you have been carrying around, when opening the page you left on. You leaned in on the book, trying to concentrate in the narrative, noting every single little detail that had been written differently from the original. Not long ago, you were able to find a couple of differences here and there on some books, movies, plays, and numerous pieces of media that had been made after 1963 till now, pieces you knew very well, changed, even in the slightest details, from the ones you had seen previously. A word, a dot, a whole different scene in some. You knew that something had gone down, that explained the fact the entire world was still standing April the 3rd, 2019, yet, you didn't know how much and if for better or worse, you had decided to keep away from whatever had caused it. It wasn't your business, not anymore.

You had been so deep in thought, eyes scanning the pages so quickly you weren't even actually aware of the plot, anxiety once again filling your body, slowly opaquing the brightness in which your day had started. And just like the previous night, your figure started curling into itself. Shoulders rose hovering over the table, your shadow darkening the page, you started pulling at your hair for some sense of reality, this had always been of help to that throughout your life. It had been pointed out to you, you needed to stop, yet it kept you steady, anchored.

"Y/N?" A young voice interrupted your train of thought, thankfully. Shutting your book you raised your gaze to be met by a young man, a teenager, around your physical appearance, the smell of coffee mixed with the aura of desperation he carried and wild green eyes piercing right into yours. Those eyes. The familiarity of it all was unsettling, Commission? after working such a long time for them you knew not to trust easily.

"Who's asking?" you answered with a calm tone, showing no intimidation. Your hand discreetly taking hold of the butter knife in front of you.

"Of course you wouldn't recognize me" He muttered, rolling his eyes. Meaning exactly what? "If you had, you wouldn't even think about trying that" he said eyeing the knife. This made you tighten your grip on it, whoever he was, he meant no good. But you let him speak anyway. He straightened himself, adjusting his blazer as if to look taller. 

" Alright kid" he sighed out, reading your reaction. You pursed your lips in distaste for the word that was used towards you, you narrowed your eyes at him, taking notice of his expression, his tone, he said "kid" as if he knew it would tick you off. He looked at you intently, giving you enough time to recall him. You dug through your memory, something you tried to avoid for a long time. You thought about getting up and away from him, you didn't need this, not now, not ever again, but you just sat there, holding his gaze. You scanned his features, eyes landing on a very characteristic trait, a dimple. Very familiar. No, it couldn't be.

Then you were back at his eyes, tired, old but young, almost like yours...as if looking in a mirror. So familiar.

You hadn't even noticed you had been holding your breath, the silence getting longer. You sigh, releasing a bit of tension and unwrapping the knife. You reminded yourself there was no reason to fear, not anymore, you had made it clear to everyone back there, even yourself, that you didn't care, you didn't deserve the trouble.

He noticed you let go of the knife, and his expression softened a little. A contrast to his previously imposing posture, but he didn't actually relax. Instead, he seemed eager to approach you. He proceeded with a friendlier tone as if testing if your action was a sign for him to proceed or you to leave. 

"Used to work for the Commission, Five"

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Hey, So, chapter 1 is here. Hope you liked it and that it made sense somehow?

About the black coffee, Sorry hehe. It is bitter I know but bear with me.

Also, I am trying to make this gender neutral, if by ANY chance I mispronounced your pronouns I apologize, I will keep an eye better for that.

- Milo

[inlovewiththefictionalcharacters]

COERCION AND HAVEN

CHAPTER - 5 : NOT AN IDEAL PLACE

Pairing: (dark) Steve Rogers x Reader

Warning(s):  MCU spoilers, slowburn,  Stalking, Obsession, Non - con, Dubious content, Kidnapping, Sexual themes, Strictly 18+.

*****

<- Previous Chapter

*****

To say that the team was shocked when he told them that he will be moving out soon will be an understatement of the century. They all immediately shot question after question at him.

“Why?”

“Did we do something that made you angry at us?”

“Did we hurt you?”

“Are you crazy?!”

“Have you gone nuts, punk?”

“Are you mad at us?”

“From where did this come from?”

“Why did you decide that, out of nowhere?”

All the while, Tony was the only one who remained quite while the rest of the team kept asking, talking, rambling and that went on and on.

But the most hilarious question asked was “How are you going to survive out there, all on your own?”

Steve sighed in exasperation. He wasn’t a five year old. Not appearance wise and definitely not chronologically. The team wasn’t giving him a chance to speak, let alone reply to any of their questions. At this point, Tony popped into the conversation.

“He’s a grown ass man. He’ll be doing just fine” he told them making all of them look at him.

“Plus, it’s not like he’s quitting the team. He’s just moving out and getting a life” Tony added.

“Are you saying that we don’t have a life?” Wanda asked.

“No, we do. He doesn’t. All he’s done till now is fight. Let him do something else now” Tony replied and walked out of the room, patting Steve’s shoulder as he left.

The team looked like they’re processing what Tony said and Steve followed Tony to his lab.

“Thank you, Tony” Steve said, entering the lab and billionaire just waved it off.

“Well, just so you know, I’m gonna add some upgrades to your new home before you move. Just some safety precautions. We all have enemies, cap. It’ll be better if we take some safety measures” Tony said while moving towards a table with what looked like a metal arm on it and Steve nodded.

“By the way, who’s she?” Tony asked while tapping on the screen beside the, setting some configurations. 

Steve stilled hearing that.

“You know?” he asked after a moment.

“Of course, I do. You keep on going out in the evenings, come back at midnights, suddenly have loads of sweets with you, I connected the dots” Tony replied.

“Oh, by the way, Morgan may or may not have seen the wallpaper of your phone and asked me who that pretty woman was. I thought it might have been Peggy Carter, but Morgan said that the woman on your phone was not Peggy Carter and gave a three minutes 12 seconds lecture saying that she knows who Peggy Carter is” Tony added and Steve sighed.

*****

“You’re planning on doing what?!” Tony asked, as if he’s not sure if he heard it right.

Steve sighed “You heard me.”

“Yeah, I did. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I want you to get a life, but an abduction, cap? Do you know how much of a PR nightmare it’ll be if this gets out?” Tony asked with wide eyes.

“I’m aware of it, Tony. Look, I don’t have any other choice” he said.

“You do have another choice. Ask her out like any other sane person does instead of going out all caveman on her” Tony told him.

“Don’t you think I’ve already tried that?! She’d rather stay closed off from the whole world than go out on one single date! I’ve seen men trying to woo her, hell, I know I’ve tried to do that over the weeks and everytime I do that, she just closes off!” Steve exclaimed.

Tony dropped into the seat by his desk and sighed. He rubbed his face with his hand and asked “When are you going to do it?”

“As early as possible. I’m thinking about as soon as we come back from Hangar” Steve said.

“Wait, I thought we’re not gonna bother about Hangar for a few months” Tony said, siting up.

“Me too, but Fury sent an intel a few hours ago and trust me. Hangar needs immediate attention. The abandoned Hydra facility is showing a lot of secret activities, I’m afraid. Hill confirmed it with a few photographs sent by another Agent that was nearby the location” Steve said.

“When are we gonna strike? Do we even have the intel we need? And who all are going?” Tony asked.

“Yeah, we have the intel we need. We don’t need the whole team. Just Nat, Bucky and I. Sam will be staying as backup” Steve said and added “We’re going to strike on that base tomorrow.”

*****

This time, Steve approached her while she was locking the back door of the bakery after closing up. She turned around and a shriek left her when she spotted Steve standing right behind her. 

She placed a hand on her chest and sighed out in relief.

“Captain America... Rogers... Steve... You gave me quite the scare” she told him and Steve had the decency to look embarrassed.

“Sorry about that doll” Steve chuckled.

Y/N just smiled and frowned.

“You didn’t come in today” she said.

“Yeah... Work happened” Steve said.

“A-are you going home?” Steve asked her.

Of course she’s going home. He knows that. The girl has nowhere else to go. And nobody else to go home to. Just her, all alone with that little plant that she placed by the window.

After days of following her to her home at nights, Steve started tracking her entire day schedule. Apart from the bakery, Y/N also works as a waitress at a diner and during her free hours, she goes back to her tiny apartment and spends her day, doing some chores at home and reading a book if time permits. The she gets refreshed and comes to the “Sugar Shack” to start her shift their and mostly, she’s the one who’s closing it. Steve also became brave enough to stalk her inside her apartment by hiding on the terrace of the apartment complex beside the one she lives in and gazes into her apartment. If he wanted to observe with a little more detail, he used the binoculars that he brought with him. He even took it upon himself to install some security cameras and keep them hidden inside her apartment, just for her safety. The place was not 100% safe and he didn’t want to risk it.

“Yeah, I’m heading home” she told him, looking down at her shoes and moving and curling her toes inside them.

“I was hoping that I could walk you home, doll” Steve told her.

That surprised her.

“What? Why?” she asked, not really liking where this was going.

“I have to talk to you about something. It’s already late now and I don’t want to delay you this late” he told her.

“But I don’t really live close” she told him, giving an excuse to just stop him from accompanying her.

“I don’t mind, doll” he told her.

Y/N thought about it. Really thought about it and came to a conclusion with a sigh. He’s Captain America. He’s pretty harmless. What could he do to me? Literally nothing was what she thought.

With that, she gave him a nod and Steve smiled at her. They both made their way to her place.

*****

Steve and Y/N reached Y/N’s place and stood right outside the apartment complex. Steve set his best acting face and looked around the area as if he’s seeing it for the first time, pretending that he has not been there a trillion times before. Hell, he has even sneaked into her apartment while she was not present or awake just get a little closer look at things. On their way back, they made some talk here and there, but nothing seemed important for him to come with her just to talk.

“So... This is me” Y/N said, turning around to look at him.

“Not an ideal place to live for a woman like you” Steve told her what he thought that first time he saw the place.

Y/N on the other hand didn’t know whether to get offended or not. Is he insulting the place or her? She didn’t have the answer to that. At the end, she decided to play it cool.

“Well, New York is not exactly and easy city to live in” she told him.

Steve smiled hearing that “Agreed.”

She too smiled at it and they both looked at each other.

A moment later Steve smiled and said “I won’t be coming to the bakery, doll.”

That surprised her.

“What?” she asked in surprise.

“I’ll be out of town for a couple of days. Don’t exactly know when I’ll return” he told her.

She frowned hearing it.

“Are you moving or something?” she asked him.

Steve laughed hearing that “No, doll. I have to go out of town on a mission.”

“Oh!” her voice held relief and Steve reveled in that.

“Yeah...” Steve tucked a stray lock of her her behind her ear.

“In the mean time,” he cupped her cheek and added “I want you to be careful around here and take care of yourself” while her eyes widened at this.

It was a strangely intimate act for two strangers who barely knew each other. But Steve literally knew everything about her. It was her who doesn’t know Steve.

“Do you hear me?” he asked her, make his voice more deeper, like he’s giving a command.

Her eyes widened a bit and she nodded quickly. She was not comfortable with this and didn’t know what to do. Steve on the other hand, read her like an open book. He just wanted to push things a bit more and dropped his hand to her elbow and caught it and moved closer to her, kissing her forehead. Her eyes widened and her skin flushed up her neck.

Both of them looked at each other’s eyes until she broke the eye contact, awkwardly clearing her throat. He loved how she reacted to him.

“Right umm... You too take care of yourself Capt- uh... Steve” she told him and Steve smiled.

“Will do, doll” he said and decided to put a stop to her temporary misery.

“Good night” he told her and she nodded “Good night. Take care” she said and quickly walked inside the complex, but not before casting a look back at him one more time before making her way to her apartment.

Steve waited till he saw the shadow of her silhouette by the window and started walking away from there with a smirk on his face, loving how she reacted to him.

*****

Next Chapter ->

*****

Taglist:

@mandiiblanche​

@literalmcuhoe​

@saiyanprincessswanie

@elegantcroissantplaidpony​

@jevans2

@red--aren

@brownsugur  

@justanotherintrovert​

[dumbbitchenergy17]

Extra Part 4

U.A. a school for students to learn how to become the best Pro-Hero. When young Y/n Midoriya returns from her traveling to be accepted through recommendation. What awaits her when she meet the explosive blonde Katsuki Bakugo

Words- 2496

Katsuki Bakugo x Midoriya!Reader, Izuku Midoriya x Cousin!Reader

Warning-Spoilers from show, fighting, blood, and surgery, and attempted murder

Series Masterlist

You could hear the beeping as well as snoring, you slowly opened your eyes, You could feel pressure on your hand and you tilted your head and saw Izuku sleeping on your hand. You took your other hand which proved to be were difficult as it felt as if it weighed 20 pounds and flicked him in the face. He shot away looking around for any danger, then his eyes landed on you.

“You’re awake!” He cried out pulling you into a hug which made you groan from how sore you were.

“Sorry.” He gave you a sheepish smile.

Your parents had entered expected you to still be asleep and they started crying seeing you awake smiling at Deku. The doctors had rushed over to you checking over your vitals and all before they explained the extent of your injuries. Because of the voltage and duration of the collar, you had very bad burns on your neck and shoulders which left some scars that they couldn’t fix. They told you not to use your voice as much as the shocks had damaged your vocal cords a bit. When they took off the bandages they gave you a mirror to see the scars. There were scars littering your shoulders but there was the huge scar that went from your collarbone up the side of your face ending right underneath your ear. They could be easily hidden but the memories and trauma would never. You had drunk water trying to lubricate your vocal cords while Izuku explained everything had happened.

You had been out for 5 days since the attack with many of the students coming to visit you and some teachers coming to see you as well. It had been a few days since you have woken up which was spent it going through rehabilitation of walking and talking as you had to relearn from being out for so long. When you were released Izuku and his mom and your parents had been there with you when you took your first step outside the hospital taking a fresh breath of air. When got back you home your parents went off to go get food for dinner while you went to take a shower to clean away the stench of being out for 5 days and the smell of the hospital. When you got changed into more comfortable clothes and put back your bandages on you laid on your couch and put on the TV. You were scrolling through the channels when one caught your attention

“Seen today leaving Kamino Hospital Y/n Midoriya, one of the kidnapped victims from U.A. and involved in the final battle against the villains,” The reporter pulls up a photo of your family and Deku’s family leaving the hospital, “People are relieved to see both her and Katsuki Bakugo safe at home and back in school, but people are worried about U.A. ideologies. Having the winner of the U.A. Sports Festival Katsuki Bakugo show of “villain-like” behavior and Y/n Midoriya suspected of murder,” The pull up a photo of Bakugo at the Sports festival all chained receiving his award and a photo of you during the Kamino Incident eyes bright red blood surrounding your neck by the collar. “Is the U.A. raising heroes or villains, this is-” before they could finish it was shut off and you turned to see it was Deku standing on the other side of the couch staring back at you.

“You killed someone,” he whispered.

You shook up rushing over to him “I swear I didn’t something happened when I was in Europe and somehow the League found out. I swear it was an accident you have to believe me Izuku.” You cry not wanting to lose someone close to you.

He nodded “I believe you.” You sighed in relief.

“I just don’t know what to do anymore, with U.A. and the League. How do you do it Izuku?” You looked up at him Both of you sat on the couch

“I don’t know this is the life of a Pro. Like All-Might he always has a smile on his face, I try to be like him.” He tried to explain.

“I’m sorry about All Might and all, but I need you to be honest with me Izuku,” You asked and he nodded in reply, “I know you’re quirkless and quirk doesn’t just show up like that, so please tell me how do you have a quirk.” 

You both stared at each other and then he told you everything.

After he had finished your face was blank. “So you’re All Might’s apprentice, and he passed you his power through his hair? And now your the new Symbol of Peace.” You said slowly trying to make sure you have all the details correct. 

“Yeah basically.” He nodded.

“That’s so cool!” You smiled making him smile as well, “So you’re the next All Might, well Deku.” You said correcting yourself on his hero’s name. He smiled and you spent the rest of the day talking about his quirk and what All Might is like. When Izuku had to leave because All Might had to talk to him you both bid your goodbyes. By then your parents came back and you all had dinner before you each went off to bed. When you woke up you looked over at your clock and saw it was around 2 in the afternoon, you went to the bathroom and fixed yourself up, and changing into some clothes finding a top that covers most of your scars. Izuku said you guys would be going out to talk more about All Might and show you how his quirk works. You looked in the mirror staring at the scars peeking through your shirt, you grabbed some of the extra bandages and covered the ones around your neck. The scars on your neck were covered by either your shirt or the bandages, however, the scar on your face was visible. 

“It’s the best they could do” You reminded yourself. You made your way outside your room calling out to your parents.

“Hey, I’m heading out to see Izuku is that fine.” You trail off seeing sitting on your couch was All Might who had a sling and Mr. Aizawa.

“Y/n, honey can you sit down.” Your mom leads you to the couch opposite them. No one really says anything for a bit.

“Um so because of the event that has transpired in the past few weeks, Principal Nezu is asking for permission of changing U.A. into a boarding school. So Y/n and the other students will be completely watched over and will be staying there for the weeks there and will be able to visit for breaks.” Mr. Aizawa explains looking at your parents as they seem to be having a conversation with talking. Those weird couple thing.

“You can’t promise me that she will be safe, these villains have attacked U.A. multiple times already what is different now that they are all together.” Your father said making you look down, he was right the U.S.J, The Hosu Incident, Training Camp, and now what has happened in Kamino.

“I can’t make promises but U.A. will do everything in its power to keep the students safe.” Mr. Aizawa. Your father nodded grabbing your mother’s hand 

“You have to keep her safe. My heart can’t take it if she gets hurt again.” Your mother said looking at Mr. Aizawa and he nodded

“I’ll protect her with my life.” He promises giving her a nod. Both your mom and dad look at you before back at All Might and Mr. Aizawa

“We give you our consent for Y/n.” Your father said You stand up and pull them into a hug.

“I promise I’ll be good no fights just school and training that’s it.” You grabbed their hands. They gave you a smile pulling away from the hug.

“If we may can we speak with Y/n alone?” All Might asked. Your parents looked at you and you nodded telling them you would be fine. They gave you a kiss before leaving the living room.

“With you boarding at U.A., there is something we still need to talk about. What happened at the press conference we need to know exactly what happened.” Mr. Aizawa stated. 

You looked down at your hands “God that was what one..two...years ago I didn’t think it would all come back. Um, well my family had arrived in Paris when traveling.” 

Flashback

“We are only here for a few days Y/n so don’t go running off again.” Your mother called out when you got off the car looking around at the people walking around and the building

“That was one time in Italy.” You smiled fixing your coat.

“You know the rules sweetheart stay close to the hotel, try not to buy that much stuff we still have more places, and be back by 5 tonight.” Your dad listed rules which you had memorized by now.

“I know I know can I go.” You were bouncing in excitement. They laugh and nodded. You ran up to them and gave them each a hug

“Thank You!” You smiled grabbing your bag that was on your suitcase and made your way. You had visited most of the highlights, the Eiffel Tower, the Louvre, you had stopped to buy little trinkets for when you get home. When you passed by a gift shop laughed when you saw was in the window, you went inside and grabbed the tiny All Might who had a beret and holding a baguette, you grabbed a postcard that was the Eiffel Tower and went to pay. You ended up finding a Postal Office and went inside, you wrote on the postcard. 

‘I think All Might is better French, can’t wait to see you when I come back’

-Y/n

You paid for the shipment to Izuku Midoriya your cousin, and made your back out to continuing exploring. By the time you had finished exploring it was around 4:30 and you bought some food and walked through the streets heading back to the hotel. There was music playing and people drinking and having fun around the small street you were on. As the streets got more quieter there was a person who would occasionally walk past you or away from you. You were about to turn onto the street that your hotel was on when you heard a scream that made you turn around. You froze thinking you were mistaken until you heard it again and you went rushing towards it, in one of the alleys there was a woman being grabbed by some man.

“Hey!” You yelled getting the attention of them both,

“Back off kid,” The man hissed, with him distracted the lady was able to stomp on his foot and running off. She was already down the block by the time he stopped grabbing his foot.

“You bitch, I’m gonna kill you.” He pulls out a knife and rushes towards you and you’re able to dodge his slash but he grabs your bag which made you fall back onto the ground.

He went to kick you but you rolled over getting to your feet quickly as he tried to slam his knife into the ground, and he got it caught in the street cobble. You kick the knife away and while you’re close to him he grabs you by the leg and pulls you down onto the ground, he straddles you slamming your head against the street making you dizzy. You thrashed your legs around trying to buck him off and his hands grabbed your neck and started choking you. You try to scream but are struggling to breathe, you scratch at his face trying to get him to let go of you. He slams your head onto the ground making blacks spots appear in your vision.

This is how you die in some alleyway in Paris, trying to be the hero. Whatever flight or fight response kicked in your eyes glowed red and a burst of energy and he flying back. He flew back and hit a pole and a crack goes through the air and the man falls down, dead before he hit the ground. The last thing you hear before passing out was a woman’s voice and sirens and then darkness.

End Flashback

“When I woke up in the hospital the police told me they had found me knocked out and him dead. My parents had to cut the trip short and we headed back here where I took the rest of my school online until I was accepted here. Even though it was in self-defense my parents didn’t want this to affect my career in becoming a Pro. So they had the court remove it from reports and anything involving me. But somehow those bastards found out and now everyone knows.” You finished explaining looking down at your hands.

“None of that was your fault.” All Might said making you look up. “You saved that woman’s life and your own. Whatever the public says doesn’t account for the facts.” He tried to reassure you

“I promised myself I would never go Plus Ultra on my powers.” You explained looking at the scrapes still on your hands from Kamino, 

“But you pushed me, and they saw. I’m not blaming you for what happened,” You tried not to put the blame on Mr. Aizawa, “They are dangerous...I can’t control it and we here now with everything.” You sighed looking out the window at the life outside.

All Might nodded giving you a sad smile “I’m sorry for everything that happened.” They both stood up and you stood as well. All Might bows and heads towards the door saying his goodbyes to your parents. Mr. Aizawa placed a hand on your shoulder.

“You just need time and training. I’m glad you and Bakugo are safe.” You nodded and he bowed and left the room.

It had been a few days since U.A. went to the classes and became a boarding school, you had packed up most of your belongings and sent them to the school leaving the bare minimum for when you visited.

”Hurry up sweetie can’t late on your first day back!” Your mom yelled

“One sec!” You yelled back you looked back at the mirror you had your school uniform on which didn’t help at all with your scars, you had the bandages covering your next as they were the worse injury while the scar on your face didn’t need it. Smoothing out your blazer you made your way to the car.

You had to pull yourself out of your mom’s smothering as you were on the campus.

“I promise I’ll call. I’ll see you next weekend.” You waved them goodbye as they drove off. You turned back to the campus and made your way to the designated dorm for each class.

[drprettyboyspence]

Memory Lane

Dr. Spencer Reid/reader

Summary: Reader just can't seem to get to sleep one night so she decides to walk around the house she shares with her boyfriend, Spencer Reid. As she travels around the house she remembers significant moments in their relationship.

words: 2.9k

warnings: season 12 spoilers, mentioning of mental illness, nothing else to my knowledge! (just a lot of fluff) 

a/n: This is my first Spencer Reid fic and I kinda went off the rails with the word count, let me know if you enjoy it :)

I turn myself over in bed for what feels like the four hundredth time this hour, facing the ceiling now. I can hear the rustling of leaves outside and the distant sirens of the city, remembering how those sounds used to bring me some sort of comfort as a child, now all I can think of is the death and tragedy being an FBI profiler has brought me into contact with, the horrors at the end of the trail of sirens. Mostly noticeably though, I hear the steady breathing of the man lying next to me in the king bed, glancing over at my boyfriend of almost 4 years I smile warmly, his unruly hair draped over the pillow, glad to see him in deep sleep. Recently he hasn’t been sleeping well, suffering from PTSD from his time spent in prison as well as all the trauma the poor man has been through in the last 10 years of his life. I quietly get out of bed, making sure not to bother him, he deserves a good nights sleep and we have to be at the BAU in a depressingly minuscule amount of hours. My feet hit the cold wooden floors and I wonder for the uncountable time “Why did we decide on wooden floors?” A memory of an argument with Spencer answers my question,  

“Because silly, don’t you know that carpets can hold up to 200,000 bacteria per square inch, this room is 100 square feet, 144 square inches per square foot, that is 28,800,000 bacteria in our bedroom alone.” I remember shaking my head at him, he’s always been such a germaphobe. In fact, when we first met, he shook my hand, and later when I confided in JJ and Penelope that I had pretty intense feelings for the resident genius of the BAU, they mentioned that he usually hates shaking hands, is known for refusing to shake the hands of many people the team comes into contact with on cases. He shook my hand right away, it’s one of the things I love about him and we always say we knew right away that we had a special connection. I glance at Spencer’s sleeping frame one more time before leaving the bedroom and making my way down the hallway. There are pictures there, pictures of me and Spence, him and his mom, pictures of the team at work, Spencer won’t admit it often, but he wakes up every morning scared that he won’t remember those he loves, his mother’s dementia and schizophrenia have impacted him greatly. I stop in front of a picture of me and Spence, it’s the first picture we ever took together, Halloween almost 5 years ago now, at the FBI Halloween party.

October 2015

“Come on Y/n! How can you not love Halloween!”

“Spencer, what’s so great about Halloween!” I had asked laughing while filling up a plastic cup with punch. The party is fun, but all this dressing up just seems silly to me sometimes.

“It’s a uniquely American holiday! I mean, despite its obvious origins in the Celtic festival of Samhain and the Christian All Saints’ Day, it really is a melting pot of various immigrants’ traditions and beliefs. It became a little more commercialized in the 1950s with trick-or-treat, and today it rivals only Christmas in terms of popularity!” I catch JJ’s eyes from across the room, she gives me a sympathetic look as I’m stuck in another of Reid’s constant statistics rants. Frankly, I don’t understand how the rest of the team can cut Reid off when he’s like this. He’s so genuinely excited by this holiday it makes my budding feelings for the man standing in front of me even stronger.

“Aw you guys look so cute! Say cheese!” the always-hyper voice of Penelope Garcia shouts from across the bullpen, snapping a quick picture of me and Spence before running after Derek. I glance down at my phone and see a text from Penelope “It doesn’t take a profiler to realize how gone you are for him Y/n” I blush profusely before continuing my conversation with Spencer.

Present day

Tearing my eyes away from that specific picture, I continue walking to the end of the hallway, painfully aware that the floorboards are squeaking with my every step, hoping Spencer’s just-finished-a-case level of exhaustion will prevent him from waking up. I pass the threshold into the kitchen and see the dim light of the clock over the stove, the red 2:15 blinking back at me through my tired eyes, I just can’t seem to get to sleep tonight, I’m sure Spencer would say something like

“Chronic insomnia is usually tied to an underlying mental or physical issue. Anxiety, stress, and depression are some of the most common causes of chronic insomnia but even if you do not suffer from chronic insomnia, 35% of Americans report their sleep quality as poor or only fair.” Dating a living encyclopedia definitely has its perks I suppose. I walk towards the fridge and glance at the refrigerator, my eyes traveling to a postcard held up by a doctor who magnet. Houston, Texas the postcard reads.

February 2017

Me and Spencer had been dating for less than 6 months but as we had known each other for over a year I was falling head over heels in love with him. The last few months hadn’t been easy, Spencer learned that his mother had been diagnosed with dementia and not a day had gone by where he didn’t try and find a cure, he had been traveling to Houston,Texas to talk with his mother’s doctor, he then brought her to live with him in Virginia, it had been difficult to say the least. My fingers traced the edges of the postcard I had received in the mail this morning, then flipped it over and saw Spencer’s familiar scraggly handwriting, it read

Dear Y/n,

I was able to speak with my mother’s doctors today, I feel as though there must be more I can be doing, she seems to be responding to the medicines but I am looking into new methods of treating the disease. I miss you so much Y/n, and I miss the rest of the team as well, tell them I will be back as soon as I can, I hate the thought of you putting yourself in danger on cases without me there, not because I doubt your ability to protect yourself, but because I doubt my ability to handle being 1,402 miles away from you. Please do not worry about me, if you’re anxiously awaiting my return, stop looking at the clock because remember, when looking at a clock our brains anticipate what we’ll see faster than we actually see it, so the clock seems to stop, Ill be back before you know it Y/n.

With all my love, Spencer Reid.

I giggle quietly at the added facts, only Spencer would describe the phenomenon of a clock appearing stopped when glanced out. I’m concerned about Spencer though, I’m not sure what is going on, but there is definitely something not right with him and if I didn’t trust him so much I would consider asking Garcia to do a background check to check the legitimacy of his travels to Houston.

Present Day

This postcard is extremely bittersweet, the next week we were all rushing to Mexico, responding to a call that Spencer was in jail, I was a nervous wreck, we all were, it was an extremely rough 6 months, truly showing me how strong the man I love is. I push some of those harsh memories out of my brain, choosing to focus on the happy memories if I ever want to fall asleep tonight. There’s a coffee machine next to the fridge, if there’s one thing Spencer loves more than me, its coffee, or rather coffee flavored sugar with the amount of sweetener he puts in his cup every day. Spencer smells like coffee, almost always, he struggles to sleep most nights and therefore is always hyped up on caffeine. It's actually played a huge role in our relationship.

August 2016

Dr. Spencer Reid and I are walking to the BAU together as we do every single day, we live close to each other, close enough that he walks about 5 minutes before arriving at my house, we then walk to the coffee shop on the way to the train station. We’re best friends, but I’ve been secretly in love with him for months. Walking into Quantico, we get the daily glances from Penelope, Derek, and JJ who are sitting together looking at pictures of Henry. Penelope always teases me that we’re both so in love with each other that everyone can see it but us, it’s ironic actually. As much as I don’t believe Pen, I have been noticing small changes in Spence’s behavior the last couple months, prompting me to, in the deepest corners of my mind, hope that maybe he feels the same way, our friendship is worth too much to risk him not feeling the same way though, so I’m forever stuck. We aren’t on a case right now, so there’s a lot of paperwork to be done, at one point during the day I get up, asking Spence if he wants another cup of coffee before walking to the break room. I return after a brief 5 minutes and am surprised to see Derek sitting in my seat, arguing with Spencer.

“Come on Pretty boy! We both know you’re in love with her! Just ask her out man, she’ll say yes!”

“Morgan, quiet down, she’ll be back any minute, besides I’m 35 and Y/n is 32, I’m not saying there would even be a chance that we would get married but the marriage success rate in the United States is only 50%, the worst it has ever been, that therefore shows the state of relationships in the country as well, I don’t want to ruin our friendship, I could never lose her. Besides, I’ve never been good with women.”

“But that’s the thing pretty boy, you don’t have to be good with women, you’re already good with Y/n, she’s the one who matters, just ask her out man, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” With that Morgan walks away and I take a deep breath, its now or never, walking over to Spencer and setting down the cup, whispering in his ear,

“You never know how good with women you are until you try, Spence” He looks up at me with wide eyes and licks his tongue across his lips, something he does often.

“Um, Y/n, y-you heard all of that?” I nod and I can see Spence take a deep breath just as I did before walking over, “W-would you like to um- go to dinner with me Y/n?”

“Hmm I don’t know…” Spencer’s face starts to fall as I quickly continue “Of course I would love to go to dinner with you silly, what did you think?” His smile lights up the entire room as he pulls me into a deep hug.

“Well finally you two. You couldn’t have waited just a few more months though, I assumed you lovebirds wouldn’t get it together until after Spencer’s birthday” Rossi says from behind us, passing a pretty hefty stack of bills to Penelope.

That was the day that started the greatest adventure of my life.

Present Day

I leave the kitchen and walk to the living room, a chilly breeze blows my hair slightly askew, its June in Virginia, warm enough that all I’m wearing is one of Spence’s oversized MIT shirts with pajama shorts, but the night air causes slight goosebumps on my skin, sending me into my memories once again.

August 2019

Spencer and I are sitting on the couch, participating in yet another Doctor Who marathon on the tv, it's a rare day off from work and the hot summer air fills our living room even with the fan blowing through the house. I lie my head in Spencer’s lap as we watch the tv and his strong hand strokes the back of my neck, causing goosebumps to pop up all over my arms. I giggle and glance up at him causing him to pointedly look at me asking me with his eyes “What is so funny that you dare distract from Doctor Who?”

“It’s just strange, its 95 degrees outside but your hands on my neck give me goosebumps like its a crisp fall day, isn’t that funny baby?”

“Of course the most common cause of goosebumps is cold weather, but when you’re experiencing extreme emotions, the human body responds in a variety of ways. Two common responses include increased electrical activity in the muscles just under the skin and increased depth or heaviness of breathing, resulting in goosebumps.” I roll my eyes at him and playfully swat his hair out of his eyes.

“Only you, Dr. Spencer Reid, would take a romantic statement and turn it into statistics, and I love you for that” he kisses me and well, the Doctor Who marathon was quickly turned off after that.

Present Day

As I turn the corner into the living room I smile warmly, it’s the room that Spencer and I like the best. There are book cases lining the back wall, Spencer loves books, I’d ask him what made his books so special and he’d tell me stories of his childhood, his mom reading him 15th century literature, I loved when Spence told me stories about his childhood.

December 2017

I knocked on the door of Spencer’s apartment, it wasn’t like him to be late for our daily walk to work especially because he had been on probation after his time in jail. I received no answer, prompting my concern as I unlocked the door with the key he had given me. I walked into his living room and saw him, Spencer was sitting in the middle of the floor surrounded by books, running his fingers up and down the pages as he does when he’s reading at his top speed.

“Spence what on earth are you doing! Where did all these books come from? We aren’t on a case are we?”

“This year in the United States alone there have been 328,259 new books published, I read at 20,000 words per minute but at an average of 100,000 words per book, it would take me 27,377 hours to read all those books!”

“Oh Spencer how I love you, you don’t need to read every book ever published, are you going to start reading romance novels?” I tease while picking up a copy of 50 Shades of Gray from the ground at Spencer’s feet.

“Okay maybe you’re right, I just feel like I missed so much time when I was incarcerated, all that reading I could’ve done when I was trapped in that place, it's time I can never get back.”

“Spencer, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for you, but this is not going to help that feeling go away, let’s go to work.” Spencer nodded and began to tidy up the floor before following me out the door.

“Wait, Y/n, I have to ask you something that I’ve meant to say since I’ve gotten out of jail, and I might as well say it now, will you move in with me?” He’s chewing on his bottom lip again and I jump into his arms in excitement, kissing his hair as he caresses the back of my head.

“Of course I’ll move in with you! I love you, Dr. Spencer Reid.”

“And I love you Y/n Y/l/n.”

Present Day

I’m coming around to the opposite side of the living room now, sitting down on the couch in front of the fireplace. I love the fireplace in our house and I think secretly Spencer does too. We argued for days over the safety of having a fireplace in our house, Spencer of course supplied with enough knowledge of house fires to last him 5 lifetimes, “But Spencer it’ll be so cozy, doesn’t it sound romantic to cuddle up by the fire?” I had pleaded with him the day we toured the house for the first time.

“Y/n, there were an average of 357,400 residential fires per year in the US between 2012 and 2014, an average of 22,300 of those fires were caused by a fireplace or chimney!”

“But Spenceee, that’s only 6.24% of the residential house fires during that period, 43.9% were from cooking equipment, are you going to forbid us from having a kitchen too?” Hey, don’t underestimate how useful a cellphone calculator and a quick google search can be in winning an argument against your genius boyfriend. Obviously, we had ended up agreeing on the fireplace, but Spencer was still overly cautious whenever it was in use. As I stood in front of the fireplace I became hyper aware of the floorboards creaking in the hallway just as they had done when I left the room earlier, I felt a presence enter the room and the 6’1” frame of my boyfriend wrapped his long arms around me from behind while burying his face in the hollow of my shoulder.

“Hi, baby, what are you doing up so late? Are you feeling okay? Can’t seem to get to sleep?” I nod back at him and recline my head so it rests on his strong chest.

“I was just taking a trip down memory lane I suppose” I say before smiling up at the love of my life.

[trillian-anders]

first blood

pairing: ransom drysdale x reader

warnings:  angst, general asshole-ness.

word count: 4.6k  

description: part 3 of 5. how did you become ransom’s glorified babysitter? and why the fuck are you keeping this job? who knows. you hate it, you hate him, but... the money. 

note: tumblr is being super shitty rn so I can only post on mobile, but I really wanted to get this off my desk! will add a read more and properly link later 💕

prequel to the assistant && four christmases, spoiler free loves. 

You have to do this.

You have to do this.

You have to do this.

You don’t think your eyes will ever feel normal again. They were dry and scratchy. There were no more tears to shed. You’d buried your Mom two months ago, but you didn’t know how it would ever feel okay. She did everything for you and Julia. Everything. She worked hard, made pretty good money, allowed you to have a part time job and just focus on school. Julia was in this really nice private school, she played the cello now for fucks sake. She had friends and was talking about maybe starting soccer soon, but after funeral costs and your sister’s tuition the life insurance money was running out.

You had to sell the house.

You’d moved the two of you into a small apartment right outside of Chinatown. Not the safest area, but not the most unsafe either. You’d be fine. You had each other, and she needed you to do this. You had to do this.

For her.

You sat uncomfortably in the cheap office chair, sitting across from a woman with too many papers on her desk, everything sloppily arranged around a couple of potted succulents and a framed picture of her and her three kids, no spouse.

“So your last job was in tutoring?” She asked you. You shifted nervously in your seat, nodding your head,

“Yeah, I tutored a high school student in English and Math.” You needed some water. The cheap pencil skirt and blouse you were wearing made your skin itch. She types into her computer some more.

“So why are you here?” She asked, “Why not continue tutoring?” A few more clicks and then more typing.

“The family I worked for paid me pretty well,” You admitted, “But she’s graduating this year and they didn’t need me anymore, I don’t really,” You cleared your throat, “I don’t really have much job experience outside of that and I need to start making money now… I’ve put out job applications but haven’t really gotten any luck.” Not with the income you needed anyway. The woman nodded. The plaque on her desk said her name is Stacy Chandler.

“Alright, here you are.” A printed page, address, date, and time. A job. Clerical work. Data entry. You have to do this...

-

“How was your last day of school?” Julia sat heavily at the kitchen table, backpack slumped on the floor next to her. She buried her face in her arms.

“I’m never going again.” Came muffled from her mouth. She lifted her head to look at you. The beginnings of puberty. You’d recently gone bra shopping for the first time. Real ones, no more training bras. You’d recently taken her to the dermatologist for her acne, but she’s not good at remembering to put on the expensive creams you bought. What a hard time. You don’t envy her.

“Luckily for you,” You smiled, placing a fudgy brownie in front of her, “You don’t have to go back for three whole months!” She rolled her eyes heavily, taking the brownie and disappearing into her room presumably to sit on her computer until dinner.

She was feeling the absence of your Mother just as you were. You weren’t sure what to do here. You loved your sister and you know she loves you too, but in the last few months it’s just been closed doors and a few parting sentences. Only because you had to work so much. Only because she spent a lot of time at friend’s houses where you’d think she would feel normal for a while. It would help ease the burden of being in your mid-twenties and suddenly feeling like a single mother. Of course you can sleep over at Mila’s house, her family is going to their cabin for the weekend of course you can go!

You didn’t know what to do other than keeping her in school and alive. You weren’t ready for this. But the only other option was your estranged aunt who reeked of mothballs and was constantly asking you if you were married, or dating, or ‘You’re Mother wouldn’t have wanted this’. No. It was very clear that your Mom wanted the two of you to stay together, and that’s how it’s going to be.

This summer she was going to spend with her friend Mila at their family’s lake house. Mila’s mother was a stay at home mom with six kids under the age of 12 and would be planning to spend the summer pintresting activities and projects with them while simultaneously getting out of her stuffy-old 10 bedroom, 8 bathroom mansion. Lucky her. Lucky Julia.

The apartment would be empty without the 12-year-old pre-teen for three months, but Julia has really been looking forward to it. Her bags were packed and ready by the door.

You hugged her tightly in front of Mila’s house, burying your face in her hair, partially not wanting her to go, but otherwise knowing that she’s going to have a better time than you could ever provide her. “Okay, you can let me go now.” She shifted in your arms, trying to pull away.

“Just another minute.” You mumbled, pulling her in tighter. “I’m gonna miss you.” She laughed,

“I’m gonna miss you too.” The two of you pulled apart and you tucked her hair behind her ears, cupping her sweet face.

“I love you,” You said very seriously, “If you ever want to come home just-”

“I’ll let you know.” She was getting impatient, the car Mila’s mom was taking to the lake house, a beautifully large black Range Rover sat packed next to you, they were waiting. “I love you too.” She slowly backed away towards the car.

“If she gets homesick, my husband still comes back every week for work so he can bring her home if need be,” Andrea was her name, Mila’s Mom. “She’ll be fine.” Andy was really nice. She made a lot of the food the two of you had eaten in the early days after your Mom’s death. Her gentle reassurance soothed you slightly. It made driving away a little easier, but it didn’t stop the tears that fell as you entered your apartment, alone. For the first time in a while. You didn’t have to hold it in anymore.

You sunk down against your front door, staring out into your living room, tears rolling down your cheeks in the silence of the home. Dirty shoes lined up against the wall, throw blanket hanging halfway off the couch, dirty dishes from breakfast still in the sink, and somewhere you’re sure under all of it was the will to pick yourself back up.

You just didn’t know if you were ready for that quite yet.

But you did it anyway.

More clerical work. More data entry. More bills going half paid and others being ignored all together. Student loans you didn’t even want to think about from a school where you hadn’t even graduated. Medical bills you didn’t even know where to begin paying back, itchy stockings, and uncomfortable shoes. With every day that passed you reexamined your life. How did you get here?

A new job, a new office. Temp assigned, but you knew who worked here. The building that housed it stood tall against the Boston skyline. Contemporary. You sat comfortably in a cushy office chair. The plaque on the desk read Linda Drysdale, CEO. And you waited.

You hadn’t seen the Thrombey’s, let alone the Drysdale branch of the family, for five months. Zero contact. Joni had talked to you last, thanking you for helping Meg, but also trying to sell you eye cream. “You really should invest in taking better care of yourself.” Which was her kind way of trying to tell you that you look old. Thanks.

You couldn’t imagine what Linda would want you for. You’d been doing some filing, they were transferring all of their documents to digital and hired extra help to do so, you were one of three hired from your particular temp agency, but yesterday she had called you personally and asked you to come in for an appointment today at 3 pm. And here you are.

Waiting.

There was a portrait of her family on the wall. Linda herself sitting in a high backed intricate chair, her husband Richard standing to her right, and to her left was her son, Hugh. He went by his middle name Ransom. They were stone faced, serious looking. This painting seemed ridiculous. If you didn’t know the Thrombey’s you’d think it was there to be ironic, as a joke, a play on what rich families were like.

But they were a rich family, and this is what they were like.

Linda was self-serving. She only ever talked to you when it suited her own interests and as soon as she was satisfied she would quickly direct her attention somewhere else, to someone more important. She used you to get what she wanted and when you served her purpose you were gone. She had no time for anyone, only her father. Anything for Harlan.

Richard was a predator. He was always making an uncomfortable comment about either your body or your face. He stood uncomfortably close at times and liked to settle a hand on the small of your back. He was a well kept man, throwing his wife’s money around like it was his own. He kept a money clip of hundreds in his pocket.

Ransom was a piece of shit. He was a self-centered egotistical asshole who was sure to make your life a living hell every time he saw you. There was always a comment, a jab at your clothes, your hair, the fact that you are poor. He once ‘accidentally’ threw your cardigan away because, “I thought it was one of those fucking rags you dust with, I didn’t want it touching my burberry.” He, like his father, felt predatory. Something about being a rich white man just really got them going, and the money clip with the hundreds… a learned habit.

“Alright,” Linda’s voice came from the doorway, you turned slightly in your seat. She was on the phone, “Well we will send Michael out to show them the properties instead, I’m sure we’ll find something they like.” She gave you a finger, hold on, even though you’d been sitting here patiently waiting for her for close to twenty minutes now. “Okay,” She continued, “Sounds good.” Sitting down in her chair, tapping a few keys to illuminate her computer screen. “Alright now, bye-bye.” She took her phone from her ear, looking down at the screen before placing it face down on the desk and smiling at you.

You knew that smile. She wanted something.

“So, Y/N right?” You nodded, “I see you’re looking for work.”

“Well, I’m with a temp agency right now but-”

“Would you like something a little more permanent?” A permanent job? The Thrombey’s had paid you very well to tutor Meg, better than you were making now. Granted you had only worked 15 hours a week when you were tutoring her, so $20 an hour didn’t seem like that big of a deal, but if they were looking for something, anything full time…

“Absolutely,” You smiled, shifting in your seat, “I’ve had trouble being hired because my-”

“Okay so you’re going to need Ransom’s number, and you’ll start tomorrow.” Your smile dropped.

“Ransom needs a tutor?” You asked skeptically. She laughed.

“No, he needs an assistant.” She gestured towards herself, “I can’t keep telling him when or where to be for family events and he has a fairly active social life so I’m gifting him an assistant for his birthday.” Oh.

“I uhm,” You really didn’t want to work for Ransom. You REALLY didn’t want to work for Ransom. “How much would it…?” You trailed off nervously.

“My father paid you $20 an hour to tutor Meg, yes?” She asked, typing something into her computer, no longer looking at you.

“Yes, he did.” You moved trying to see what she was typing without bringing too much attention to it. She was drafting an email.

“So I’ll pay you the same. Ransom will set hours for you and decide what days of the week he’ll need you and what else he wants you to do,” She waved her hand dismissively, “Cleaning, cooking, whatever.” She scribbled on a post-it before peeling and handing it to you. “Here’s his number and address, you can go over the particulars of your job tomorrow morning.” You opened your mouth to speak again, ask her the million and one questions you have but before you could say anything she dismissed you, “That is all.” She said. And she was done with you.

She got what she wanted. And now she wanted you to leave.

So you did.

“Well,” He grinned, “Linda really scooped you up from the bottom of the barrel, huh?” You stood on Ransom’s front porch. The only texts you sent and received last night were ‘What time do you need me to be there?’ and an hour later the reply of ‘11’. The scumbag was standing in the doorway, leant against the frame, looking down on you. In more than one way.

“Can I come in?” You asked. You really didn’t want to do this. But a $12 an hour temp job versus $20 hour stability… hard to beat. He smirked, pushing off the frame before looking you up and down, turning to disappear into the house.

“Take off your shoes.” What a fucking joke. His house was a mess. Clothes thrown haphazardly around, a pile of dishes not in the sink, but on the counter. Abandoned cups, tv was rolling on in the background, some political documentary. The house, while contemporary and clean, well kept on the outside. The inside looked like a frat house during rush week. You didn’t want to take off your shoes in fear that you’d step in vomit or something worse.

He grinned off to the side, “Had some people over last night.” He explained, drinking what looked like orange juice from a coffee mug. The vodka bottle that was capless on the counter led you to believe that orange juice wasn’t the only thing in the cup. “You can start by cleaning up.” He gestured around, sinking back down into the sofa. “I’m sure I’ll think of something else you can do when you’re done.” The fucking prick.

You shut the door a little heavier than intended, slipping your sneakers off and placing them by the door. “You’ve got a laundry room?” You asked, he didn’t look away from the television,

“Basement.” And he was done with you too. The tone was very, don’t talk to me. Which honestly you were grateful for.

You cleaned up his messes, the red solo cups that littered almost every surface in every room, laundry was running in the basement, dishwasher working hard to sanitize the first round of plates and cups that could fit, the others waiting patiently in the sink as you wipe counters and dusted picture frames, the thick film of unappreciation. He didn’t care about his house, his furniture, the art that cost more than your apartment that lined his walls. His clothes, while having an extensive closet, some were threadbare and with holes.

He didn’t care.

And it made you angry.

You thought of the furniture you were able to keep from your Mother’s house, well oiled and kept. No scratches. The fabrics of the couches and chairs carefully cleaned and maintained.

His sheets were stained and you were unsure when the last time he had washed them actually was. The dampness made you gag. It wasn’t long before you were cleaning under his feet. His ankles crossed and feet resting on the coffee table as you straightened the area around him. You felt his eyes on you, briefly, but ignored it.

“Do you have any real clothes?” He asked suddenly. He stood from the sofa, rounding it to pull the vodka bottle back out from the cabinet you’d placed it in, pouring heavily into the coffee mug before leaving the bottle and the orange juice carton he followed with next to it.

“These are real clothes.” You stated, coming behind him to put the items away. He scoffed,

“I’m important,” He claimed, “I go to parties, events.” He took a large mouthful of the screwdriver he’d just made, “You can’t wear clothes like that if you’re gonna be babysitting me the whole time.” You rolled your eyes,

“I don’t have to go. You set my hours, I don’t-”

“As much as I love the whole, ‘I’m poor and don’t care what I look like’, thing you have going on,” Ransom laughed, “You’re gonna be around me, and as a reflection of me, you need to look presentable.” He gestured to the demin shorts a t-shirt you were currently wearing, mismatched socks on your feet. You felt your face flush. “And slap a little makeup on.” You rolled your eyes at that. Fucking dick. He smirked when you didn’t reply, turning back around to leave you and disappeared upstairs.

He didn’t come down for a while. In that time you’d finished cleaning the living area, the house looking a complete 180 from where it had been when you’d originally entered, it was nearing dinner time. Your stomach was growling and you’d realized you had been cleaning for five hours without stopping.

You didn’t get to enjoy the sense of accomplishment because Ransom came down the stairs not a moment later, dressed for his evening. If you didn’t hate him so much you’d drool. He looked good. Patterned slacks, chelsea boots, a lightweight white button down, blazer over one arm. “Let’s go.” He said, not stopping on his way towards the front door.

“Where are we going?” You felt gross, covered in grime from cleaning, sweat dried on your skin you knew you probably didn’t smell amazing, hair frizzed up in a bun. He didn’t answer you, continuing outside. You sighed heavily, throwing the pair of socks you’d just matched back into the laundry basket before slipping your shoes on and following him outside.

“C’mon!” He yelled from the front seat of his beamer, sunglasses on his nose, he was annoyed with you. Whatever. You sat heavily in his passenger seat, the dickwad not even giving you time to close the door before he was speeding down the driveway.

“Where are we going?” You asked again. One hand on the wheel, the other’s fingertips brushing against his lower lip he looked at you from behind his sunglasses.

“To dinner.” He smirked, looking back towards the road as you merged onto the interstate.

He was a fucking asshole. If you hadn’t thought he was before you definitely knew now. You were surprised the hostess even let you into this place. It was expensive, and you were very, very underdressed. Point taken Ransom. Thank you. Fucking prick.

He took glances at you ever so often, seated a few feet away from him at the long banquet style table that housed all of his ‘friends.’ Gorgeous women and equally as gorgeous men who had money to burn. You weren’t sure any of these people have ever worked a day in their life, much like Ransom himself. You’d met a few of them before, briefly, when Ransom would show up and ask Harlan for money before disappearing for a week, one or two of them would be in tow bragging about going on some guy’s yacht or flying out to some private island.

Regardless, they weren’t talking to you. You were a strange interloper, easily ignored, but only after a few poked fun at the stray dog at Ransom’s heels. It only stung a little bit when he laughed with them. You were wildly uncomfortable. You poked at your deconstructed salad, the little bits lined neatly up on the plate, a smear of salad dressing beside it. This menu was ridiculous. Why were you here again? You were so hungry and this was not your speed at all. Ransom’s booming laugh met your ears and you could feel the anger rising in your chest.

Fucking asshole. You hoped he would choke on one of the olives in his martini. His eyes met yours momentarily and he smirked. He fucking smirked, cheersing you with his martini before it met his lips again. You could kill him right now.

The money.

The money.

Technically you were still working. As the sun set behind the horizon. You’d been at work, technically, for about 10 hours. That’s $200. Okay, you can do this. You can do this.

You know he did this to embarass you. He made it clear when you’d pull up to the restaurant to give you a taunting look. Whether the dinner was already planned or he had planned it after the conversation about clothes and makeup earlier was anyone’s guess. You had the feeling it was the latter.

He’d paid the bill after all.

The entirety of it.

You’d wished you’d ordered more.

Afterward a giggling girl took your place in the front seat, you glared at the back of her head from the back seat,

“Ransom.” She whined, leaning over in her seat to press her lips to his neck, “I want you to fuck me.” Lips around his ear, sucking the lobe into her mouth. You shifted your gaze to the window, the city landscape passing your eyes as you’d pulled into another valet parking, a bar this time. A nice one.

Ransom and the bubbly girl from the car ride over slipped hastily into the bathroom, he’d sent you a dark look before leaving you to your own devices. Looking over the cocktail list while sitting uncomfortably on a bar stool while your boss was fucking a girl who’d laughed at you for being a ‘dog’ earlier in the bathroom of a bar that had a $20 old fashioned and their most expensive wine came with a thousand dollar price tag.

“You lost?” Another smirking asshole, sidled up next to you at the bar as you took a sip from the beautifully balanced old fashioned you’d tacked onto Ransom’s tab. He was handsome, the guy bothering you, almost everyone in this room was handsome. The lights low and romantic, candles on every table and across the bar, soft music played from the piano across the room where a man sat gently stroking the melodies to create the ambiance of the room. Close, cozy, romantic, and dark enough to forget yourself in.

“Oh c’mon honey.” The man slipped onto the barstool, thighs spread wide around you as you face away from him, his hand meeting your back. “I can help you find what you’re looking for.” His breath reeked of alcohol. You glanced over at him,

“I’m fine thank you.” Another sip, damn this drink was good. He chuckled, moving in closer, drifting a hand down to your thigh.

“Don’t be like that.” He laughed, “You obviously don’t belong here honey.” His hand traced your bare thigh, “You’ve gotta be wanting some company.”

Ransom had returned face flushed and you could almost see a tiny bit of white on his nose, but it was quickly rubbed away. He sat on the opposite end of the bar, the girl from earlier taking his lap. He looked down at you briefly, he had to have seen how uncomfortable you were, how this guy was breathing down your neck. He ignored it, ordering a drink from the bartender.

“I don’t want any company,” You shoved the man’s hand away, “Have a great night.” He leaned back in his seat, downing his drink before leaning back over to put his face in yours.

“Fucking ugly bitch.” He spat, standing from the stool, “Tryna give you a little charity here, you could've at least been grateful.” You wanted to leave. He shoved your shoulder slightly as he walked away from you, no doubt going to bother some other unsuspecting woman in his radius.

You needed some air, taking the last sip of your drink you’d scooted back from the bar, walking by Ransom to take your exit, walking out into the summer night. It was early summer. It was still only 60 at night. A chill went through you. You hadn’t expected to be out so late, the comfortable denim shorts and old ratty t shirt you’d chosen to wear had obviously been a mistake for this day. Ransom made sure to make you see that.

The bar was on the harbor, and it brought in a breeze that caused goosebumps to rise on your skin. You checked your phone, the battery almost dead. Julia had been texting you periodically, but not as much as you would have liked. You scrolled through the most recent messages, you asking how her trip was going and what she was up to and her stilted replies. She was busy you supposed. She didn’t need you, but right now you really needed her.

This night has been a massive blow to your self-esteem. You’d never felt more ugly and unwanted in your life. You just wanted to go home, but Ransom wasn’t done yet. You looked at him from the window, his fingers were gone between that girl’s thighs, they were both drinking expensive cocktails, completely oblivious to you.

He’d watched you exit, not giving it much thought it seemed, because he hadn’t made any motion to bring the night to a close, but you weren’t really expecting him to. It was Ransom’s world and you were just living in it. You worked for him. And you wondered if this is how every day is going to be from here on out. You really don’t know if you could do this forever, but you knew you didn’t want to go back inside.

So you didn’t.

Thankfully Ransom stumbled out about thirty minutes later, girl from earlier on his arm. “Let’s go.” He said. Valet pulling the beamer around he threw you the keys, “Take me home.”

He sunk down in the back seat, high and drunk. His words almost incoherent. Her’s were no better. They sloppily attacked each other in the back seat, indecently. And you were pointedly looking anywhere but in the rearview. Soft grunts and moans made you uncomfortable for the fourth time that night. Your skin crawling in unease as the girl’s giggles turned into breathy moans. Your foot sunk against the gas pedal in hopes you’d get back to his home faster, tears welling up in your eyes. The cry on the way home was going to be so good. So cathartic.

The gravel crunching against the wheels of the car was a sweet relief, so was the haste in which you left the keys in the car, running and skipped to your own car. His eyes met yours through the darkness as he was leant up against his car door, slacks loose around his hips, the girl’s lips attached to his neck as her hand worked quickly between his thighs. He smirked, waving a sarcastic ‘good-bye’. You turned your eyes to the road, cranking up the radio as you began to cry.

You didn’t want to do this anymore.

A text came through right as you finally laid down in your own bed, snuggling into the covers, ready to forget the night.

See you at 9.

.

.

.

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[i-need-entertainment]

Not Scary To me

Character: Washio x single mom reader

*Timeskip spoilers*

Pt.2

TW- mentions of insecurity, Washio has past ~trauma~, mentions of divorce and toxic relationships.

If you asked anyone who knew Washio Tatsuki if he was a scary, mean and dangerous man, they would probably laugh in your face. Since he was a teenager Washio was no stranger to being judged by his appearance. He was always taller than the other kids, much more muscular and his general demeanor screamed ‘intimidating’. Which was why people were typically scared of him and unwilling to get to know him. So when he entered his first year in Fukurodani, it was no surprise to him when no one wanted to be his seat mate. That is, until you appeared. 

“Is this seat taken?” He looked up, and he felt his heart stop. In front of him was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. She had warm and kind features, and the most welcoming smile he’d ever received from a girl. Well, a girl who wasn’t his mom or his older sister anyway. He quietly told the girl ‘no’ and nodded when she asked if she could sit there. Over the course of just a few months the two had become fast friends. They always ate lunch together, studied together, hung out after school and she always made sure to be in the front row when she watched his games. 

For the next three years, the two became best friends. They were there for each other through all of their highs, their lows, their problems in their love lives. Er- Y/n’s problems in her love life. Throughout high school she dated this guy, Ken Hashimoto. He was your typical high school heart throb. He was charming, popular and very attractive the whole school saw them as the ‘it’ couple. But to Washio, they were anything but. 

Putting aside his bias, he never really like Ken. To him Ken was sleazy, dishonest, and cunning. Washio lost count of how many times you had called him during terrible hours of the night crying over something the jerk had done. Or worse, when the two of you had fought and it was up to Washio to console you. But no matter how many times he picked you up from rock bottom, he’d always be there to pick you up again when that jerk pushed you down. Why? The reason was simple. 

Washio Tatsuki was in love with you. And he had learned to accept a long time ago that you would never love him the same way. 

Throughout the next three years you and Ken were off and on. He was a jerk, yes. He was selfish and dishonest. And…he hurt you. A lot. But for whatever reason you…couldn’t leave him. You had experienced too much with him, felt too much with him. He had too much to guilt you into staying for longer than you should have. You and Washio were very good friends, but for some reason after high school, your friendship didn’t last. You both tried to stay in contact, see each other every now and then. But with him going pro and you pursuing your interests, you both agreed it was okay you couldn’t see each other as much. 

For you that was the case. But for him, it was simply because it was too painful to constantly be reminded of what he didn’t have every time he caught sight of the engagement ring sitting on your left ring finger. Not long after he left for Hiroshima (It doesn’t say where the EJP Raijin are located, but they’re based off of the JT Thunders which are in Hiroshima Japan) to play as a middle blocker for the EJP Raijin (Eastern Japan Paper Mills Raijin). 

It’s been about five years since the two of you have seen each other. When you and Washio had graduated, you had started drifting apart. During that time you and Ken had actually been doing okay. He was treating you much better (well, by the standards of you guys’ relationship anyway) and it seemed like it was going places. So when he proposed, you didn’t think twice. Especially since the only man you think you’ve truly loved was soon leaving for Hiroshima. 

That’s right, you, Y/n L/n were in love with Washio Tatsuki. Before you rage quit reading this, bear with me! Yes! You loved him so, so much. But you couldn’t leave Ken. You knew he wasn’t a great guy, you had experienced it first hand! But no matter how much you wanted to you just couldn’t go, plus…you couldn’t go to Washio, he didn’t deserve that. 

So you kept quiet, married a man you tried to love and forget the man you always did. Here we are five years after the two of you graduated. Washio was still playing for EJP, and you were living in Osaka with your three year old little girl, Emiko. Currently you were working as a sports manager for the MSBY Black Jackals. Well that was the job they paid you for, but on most days, you felt like the MSBY Black Jackals baby sitter instead. 

“What? No- Bokuto you cannot go sky diving before next weeks game- I don’t know! No, don’t ask Akaashi, you know he’ll side with me. Atsumu don’t encourage him!! Bo, if you ask him, I promise you he’s going to tell you the same thing I did. *sigh* just- get here on time. We have a practice match today.” Bidding your goodbyes and letting out one more painful sigh you put down your phone and rubbed your temples. 

Don’t get me wrong, you loved the MSBY four, but man did they give you some big time stress. “Mommy?” All your worries faded away as you looked to the doorway, your little girl Emiko standing there with her favorite stuffed bunny in hand. “Hey there baby, ready to go?” Emiko excitedly nodded her head and walked towards you, lifting her hands above her head for you to carry her (she is only 3 after all). After getting the necessary items and a bag for Emiko the two of you left the house and headed to the MSBY Black Jackals stadium. 

The Black Jackals had a daycare center in the stadium, so working parents could leave their kids there while they did their jobs. It was nice having it in the building, especially since Emiko was a painfully shy kid. She was very quiet and usually didn’t talk to strangers, or people she knew for that matter. It was unusual for her to utter more than ‘hi’ and someone’s name (other than to you or your parents of course, or people she felt comfortable around). As soon as the two of you arrived you said your greetings to your co-workers and made your way to the daycare center. 

Until “Bunny!” this particular part of the building was always crowded, and you daughter just realized that between here and the front door she had lost her stuffed animal. Before you could re-grab her hand, she was gone and a sickening amount of panic settled in your stomach, you of course immediately ran to go get her.

 At the same time, Washio and the rest of EJP Raijin had just entered the MSBY stadium for the practice match they’d be having. When they got settled, the coach told them they had about 2 hours before the match started, giving them about 1 ½ hours to kill. Komori and Suna went off to antagonize Sakusa and Atsumu while Washio explored the stadium. (Bokuto and Hinata were not there yet for reasons better left unknown.) 

Before Washio could get very far he saw something on the floor. ‘Is that a…bunny?’ squatting down he picked up the toy to notice it was indeed a stuffed bunny that he guessed belonged to a child. He picked it up and made his way back to the entrance, figuring he’d leave it at the office for someone to find. But before he could get there, he heard a small “Mister…?” He looked down to see the cutest little girl he’d ever seen tugging at his pants, with tears in her beautiful e/c eyes. 

For a moment he stilled. He didn’t dislike kids, quite the opposite actually! It’s just…kids didn’t usually perceive him very well, usually they were afraid of him. Trying to make himself as approachable as he could he put on a gentle smile and knelt down before the girl. Sure he was still much bigger, but he was less intimidating. “Are you okay?” The little girl shyly looked at him before she shook her head ‘no’, and after some inner contemplation said “Bunny” Washio then gently smiled and showed her the bunny he had in his hand, noting the way her familiar e/c eyes lit up as she excitedly reached for the stuffy. 

She happily squealed as she hugged the toy. Right around that time you, who was running adrenaline and two cups of coffee, also a huffing and puffing mess had desperately turned the corner. “EMIKO!” The little girl turned around and smiled, triumphantly holding up the bunny. “Mommy! This nice man found bunny!” Looking past her you finally realized the man who had been kneeling (but is now standing) in front of your daughter. Both of your eyes blown wide as you both looked at each other. 

”…Tatsuki?” Washio nodded as a familiar but buried feeling fluttered in his chest as he choked out a ‘Y/n?’. You quickly ran up to him and gave him a hug, one he gladly returned. Your daughter looked at the two of you confused before acting like the two of you didn’t exist, she had some business with her precious bunny she had to take care of! “But- Wha- how? What are you doing here?!” You asked him as you pulled away from the hug. His hands went into his pockets, a nervous habit you vividly remember him having, as a smile overtook his features. 

“I’m on EJP Raijin, we’re here for a practice match. What about you? I thought you were still in Tokyo with…him.” Y/n’s expression faltered at the mention of her ex-husband. “I’m the sports manager for the Jackals, have been for about a year now. And, uh, he’s not in the picture, he left last year.” Y/n maintained the small awkward smile on her face as Washio nodded. Washio’s eyes slightly widened, “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” You waved him off as you picked up your little girl. “Don’t be, I kind of figured we’d never last long anyways…” Washio just nodded. 

“But! It’s not all bad, I got through school during all…that, got my degree and when we were getting divorced, I found this job. So, when it was done, we packed up and moved here and got started on our life together.” You continued to smile fondly at your little girl, she laid her head on your shoulder and looked at Washio with an unreadable expression. “Enough about me! How have you been? Anyone special?” 

You asked him, you wanted to know he was doing well, that he was happy. But there was also that little part of you that wanted to know if he was single. He let out a small chuckle, the sound taking you back to high school. “I’ve been alright. Not long after we graduated, I moved down to Hiroshima to play for EJP, threw myself into my career and here we are But, uh no. No one special.” You two were smiling at each other when Emiko tapped your shoulder. She leaned close to your ear and cupped her small hand around your ear. 

“Mommy?” You were holding back a giggle at her cute action. “Yes, baby?” Emiko nervously looked at Washio, and he felt a sort of dread come over him. ‘here we go again’ he thinks as he waits for the tears to start… ”What’s his name? I like him.” As if it was even possible your smile got even wider. “Well, why don’t you ask him?” The little girl looked at you before looking at him, you gently placed her on the ground and encouraged her. “Uhm….mm..” She looked nervously to the floor as she tightly clutched her bunny, making some noises of discomfort. 

She then looked up to him. “What’s your name…?” She asked in a small voice. He smiled and knelt down, holding out his hand to her much smaller one. “Washio Tatsuki. What’s your name?” She smiled and she took her hand and lightly shook his. “Emiko…Emiko L/n” she then released his hand and presented her bunny’s hand instead, wanting him to shake it (which he did). “This is bunny.” The little girl continued to smile, happy that this nice man was not only nice to her and her mommy, but also bunny. That scored a lot of points with her. 

The little girl turned around and looked at her mom. “Mommy?” You looked down to her as you started to stroke her long brown hair, which was seemingly the only trait she received from her father. ”Can we see Washio again? I want him to be my friend…” You couldn’t tell if the swelling feeling in your chest was from your daughter wanting to be someone’s friend, or the prospect of seeing Washio again, but after five years of loneliness, it was a welcomed feeling nonetheless. 

You looked up to meet his equally surprised but happy eyes. “Well? What do you say…”? He smiled down at the young girl before nodding his head, the little girl happily giggling and clutching his leg in a sort of hug before quickly returning to your side. “Oh! I need to get this little one to daycare, and I need to get to work! Uhm, why don’t we exchange numbers and we can get dinner or something, the three of us?” Emiko just nodded, even if she wasn’t really listening, while you and Washio exchanged information and said your goodbyes. You dropped Emiko off and made your way to the gym, since the practice match would begin in just under an hour.

*I have split this into parts bEcaUse it ended up reaaall long :) The next parts should be out soon*

[1989dreamer]

FTH-2020-Seventy-Five Percent

For @fandomtrumpshate​‘s 2020 auction, big thanks to @evanesdust​ for bidding on me and for being so patient.

AO3 link

Summary: Stiles and Derek are roommates at college, and living together is going well considering Stiles is harboring the hugest crush on Derek. When Derek needs an emergency date to his sister's tenth anniversary dinner, Stiles agrees. He doesn't expect it to get messy. He's kept his feelings in check for three and a half years. Spoiler alert: it gets really messy.

From this prompt. “We’re fake-dating and I’m supposed to publicly break up with you but you’ve been irritating me lately so instead of dumping you I publicly proposed to mess up your plan and now we’re getting married, fuck” au.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, Pining/Mutual Pining, Minor Misunderstanding, Human AU (full tags can be found on AO3).

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“I need a date,” Derek says apropos of nothing, and Stiles carefully sets down his brush, leans across the aisle, and stares at his friend. Derek flushes. “I mean,” he all but spits out between gritted teeth, “that my sister is having her tenth anniversary dinner, and I am the only single one in the family. If I don’t have a date, I’ll spend the whole time being accosted by my relatives.”

“And that’s my problem how?”Stiles asks. He goes back to his painting. The life model flexes just a tiny bit, and Stiles rolls his eyes at him.

“It’s your problem now because I will pay you to come with me,” Derek says, an undercurrent of threat in his voice. Or tears. Could be tears. Derek sounds mad when he’s about to cry sometimes.

Stiles sets his brush down again. Of course Derek would hit him where it hurts the most. All of Stiles’ meager earnings from his part-time job go toward keeping his Jeep running so that he can make the trek back up north to visit his dad when he’s on break from school.

“How much?” he demands, hating himself for being this easy.

Derek looks relieved. It’s a good look for him. Although, Derek looking good is any day of the week. “Thanks. Like three hundred for the day of? Maybe fifty for each additional thing that comes up?”

“And how often will things come up?”

Derek shrugs. “Maybe once or twice. I’m sure at least some of my family will want to call you to make sure that you’re real.”

Stiles claps a hand to his chest. “You haven’t told them about me?” he asks, pretending to be scandalized.

It’s Derek’s turn to roll his eyes. “I have told them about you, but in the context that you’re my best friend at college and we live on opposite sides of the state.”

“So they don’t think I’m real?” Stiles asks, not sure if he should be insulted or not.

“The most common thing I’m asked about you is ‘What is a Stiles?’” Derek grins, private and sort of cheery. “I’ve kind of stopped referring to you by name now. Just easier that way.”

“Hardy har har.” Stiles pokes Derek. To be completely fair, their freshman year, when Stiles would go home, he’d complain to his dad about his unfairly attractive, selfish, loud, attractive roommate. His dad had been convinced that Derek didn’t exist until he met him when Stiles was emptying his dorm room.

Now he and Derek have an apartment off campus, and Dad keeps trying to get Stiles to invite Derek to Beacon Hills because he claims he should at least get to intimidate his son’s future husband before their wedding.

Never mind that Derek has never even been seen with any dates, much less given Stiles any hope that he could possibly have a chance with him.

Until now. Except not really, because Derek just needs a pretend boyfriend, not an actual boyfriend.

“Why me?” Stiles asks, squinting suspiciously at Derek as he tries and fails to draw the absolute lounge of the life model. Stiles is recommending that Isaac never model again. It’s too much ego and not enough clothes, although Isaac did keep his scarf draped artfully around his neck when he dropped trou. “Why not Boyd or Erica? I’m sure either of them would be pleased to play Derek Hale’s date for a night.”

Derek shakes his head. “Both of them have already met my family. And so has Isaac. We were all friends in high school. You’re the only one I talk about regularly. It’d seem too weird if you weren’t the guy I was secretly pining after all these years.”

Stiles intensifies his squint. “Am I?” he asks bluntly.

“Are you what?” Derek refuses to make eye contact, making quick lines with his charcoal across his drawing of Isaac.

“Am I the guy you secretly pine after?”

“No…?”

Stiles throws his brush at Derek, not even a little sorry when it smacks against his chest and Derek complains that he’s wearing his favorite shirt. It’s not his favorite shirt. Stiles stole that a year ago and has yet to return it.

He’s a bit of a stalker. It’s a habit he’s trying to break. He will break. When he and Derek have graduated and gone their separate ways. When all they’ll be in a few years is the occasional drinking buddy, living too far to justify visiting more than once every couple years, work and life getting in the way of their friendship.

Stiles shakes himself. “So don’t make it a question.”

Derek sighs in defeat, handing Stiles his brush back. “Look, Laura already thinks that you’re my secret boyfriend.”

“I thought they thought I didn’t exist,” Stiles says, bitterly. He takes the brush and lays it down, turning to face Derek. Then he gives Derek a tissue to at least wipe off most of the paint. Too bad it’s oil and will stain.

“Laura helped me move in this year. She saw you and your dad from a distance and I pointed you out.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “I could have met your sister?”

Derek squirms. “Yes?” he hedges. “But she was asking all these weird questions like our first kiss, where we go on dates, if we’ve gone all the way yet. I didn’t want you to deal with that, so I distracted her until she had to leave.”

“So I get to meet her now?”

Derek nods. “It is her anniversary after all.”

“Cool.”

Then Stiles ignores Derek in favor of finishing as much of his painting as he can before class lets out.

                                                                                                                     ~ * ~

Lunch is leftover chili with homemade cornbread that Derek made earlier. Stiles taps a pen on some paper, thinking over all the things he knows he should put into a contract of sorts for his and Derek’s arrangement.

Stuff like pet names, PDA, just what they’ve “done” as a couple, how long they’ve been dating, and just how long they are supposed to be together before they break up.

Derek sees the list, scratches out pet names—“Trauma,” he mutters as explanation—and adds the terms of payment as well. He also writes down that the breakup should be public so that Derek can take time to “recover” without his family breathing down his neck.

Overall, there’s nothing really objectionable to pretending to date Derek aside from the fact that Stiles would much rather actually date Derek, but how to tell your presumably-straight roommate that you wanna suck his dick and kiss his lips?

Derek gathers the dishes and starts washing them. “Hey, so, my lab is today, so I’ll see you after 5:00. We can talk more when I get home.”

“Sure thing.” Stiles has to run himself or he’d stay and watch Derek clean up. It’s almost like a dance when Derek really gets into it. Stiles likes to park his butt on the couch and watch him while he pretends to do his homework. If Derek’s lab runs late, it explains why he’s cleaning now. Which means that not only will Stiles miss it because he needs to go to class, but it will be his turn to cook and clean tomorrow.

Ugh.

Stiles had considered Derek selfish freshman year because Derek hadn’t known how to share a room. He’s not sure why though, it’s not like they were each other’s first roommates either. Now Stiles feels selfish because he doesn’t mind cooking or doing chores but he had enough of that at home and was hoping to relax at college.

“Hey, see you tonight?” he asks, Derek waves in response.

Stiles goes to class, the pit of his stomach rebelling with every step. Why are things different now? Derek doesn’t want to date Stiles. He just wants to get his family off his back.

Concentration is out the window, so Stiles just spends all his class time thinking up the various scenarios that his and Derek’s plot could go so, so sideways.

By the time he makes it back to an empty and sparkling apartment, he’s nearer to a panic attack than he has ever been in the last three years including the whole fiasco with his first roommate during freshman year.

Stiles goes to wash his face, hoping that the cold shocks his system enough for him to stave off the attack, but Derek finds him there a few hours later, and Stiles has no memory of it.

Derek gentles him through the remainder of his attack, sets him up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and his favorite movie, and then just sits in silence while Stiles tries to process the fact that he just had a goddamn panic attack over pretend dating his roommate.

After another movie, Derek moves onto the couch, letting Stiles snuggle into his side.

“All good?” he asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “I will be though.” He waits for a few minutes, long enough for Derek to lean against him and start drowsing. “Tell me about your family.”

Derek yawns. “Well, you know Laura, the one who’s celebrating. She’s older than me, by like a million years. Made her insufferable growing up. And then there’s Cora, who’s about four years younger than me. We were rivals growing up. Every crush I had, she had too. And she’s kissed about half of them. I have a couple older brothers who are even older than Laura and even more insufferable, but in the way that us younger Hales are the dirt under their shoes. Especially my youngest sister. She’s the baby of the family and the most normal. But I guess it’s because my parents were tired when they got around to raising her.”

“Hmm, so many Hales to meet.” Stiles’ heart beats extra hard at that. Not only does he have to pretend to date Derek, but he has to pretend to date Derek in front of—Stiles counts on his fingers—seven Hales that aren’t Derek. Five sibling Hales and two parent Hales.

“And my uncle Peter,” Derek adds, drowsily. “He’s a dickhead. He’s also as old as my brothers but he was far more invested in causing drama with the younger Hales.”

“Laura too?”

Derek nods. “Laura especially. He almost wasn’t invited to her wedding. I will be very surprised if he doesn’t do something that gets him kicked out of her anniversary dinner.”

“And you want me to meet them?”

“Well,” Derek hedges, and that hurts so much and so viscerally that Stiles climbs off the couch and goes to the kitchen to pretend to drink a glass of water from the tap. Derek follows him after a minute. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. You’re my best friend. It’s just that they don’t have the greatest track record with people I bring home.”

“What, like I’m not good enough for you?” Stiles fans the flare of anger growing in his chest. Anything but another panic attack is preferred.

Derek sighs. “It’s a dumb test. I think everyone goes through it, but I don’t know because I don’t participate. I mean, it’s dumb to make your sister’s boyfriend hate her family when before he wanted to be with her, right? It’s like we’re trying to scare them off.”

“So like they’re not good enough for the family,” Stiles repeats.

Derek’s shoulders fall. “I guess. I always hated it, so I wouldn’t bring anyone home so that they couldn’t do that to them.”

“Partners,” Stiles points out.

“What?”

“You said ‘sister’s boyfriend,’ so this assholery only happens with potential partners. Is that it?”

Derek frowns at him before nodding, understanding dawning on his face. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“So, I’ve never met your family because…?”

The absolute look of panic that flashes across Derek’s face is in parts thrilling and heartbreaking to see.

“I understand,” Stiles says. “Well, it just means that I truly am the right choice of friend to take home to mother.”

Derek barks out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, sure. Please don’t call my mom ‘Mother.’ It makes her unreasonably angry. I think she thinks it makes her sound old. I think she sounds older when my nieces and nephews call her grandma.”

“How many nieces and nephews do you have?” Stiles asks, suddenly, acutely aware of just how much he doesn’t know about Derek. It makes him feel like a chronic over sharer and like Derek doesn’t fully trust him.

Derek shrugs. “I think Laura has three kids and my brothers each have two, but that was last Christmas so they could all have more on the way. I have five nieces and two nephews that I know of.”

“And we’re driving down to Chula Vista, right?”

Derek looks relieved, grabbing at Stiles’ floatation device of a conversation change. “Yeah, yes! Definitely. I mean, it’s about seven hours. We could take a flight down, it’d probably be quicker, but more expensive. And besides, this means that we can leave whenever either of us want to.”

“Yeah, how’s that going to work?” Stiles points, and they head back to the couch. Derek sits, angled so that his knee is brushing Stiles’. “Do I just say, ‘Laura insulted me, I want to go back to college now’?”

“Absolutely yes. If any of my family makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, let me know, and we’ll leave as soon as possible.”

It’s a nice reassurance, and Stiles hopes to assuage all his fears as easily, so he and Derek spend the rest of the night, until Derek falls asleep, discussing the finer matters of how to “date” a Hale.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

The rest of the week until Derek’s sister’s tenth anniversary dinner blurs by. Lots of packing for what is essentially just a day and a half, getting Boyd to agree to look in on the apartment even though they have no pets or plants that require sitting, and arguing over whose car they’re taking. In the end, Derek agrees to allow Stiles to drive his Camaro for a short stint, and they depart, happily, on Friday after classes.

The drive is uneventful, even when Derek oversleeps the first leg and Stiles ends up driving two thirds of the way to their destination. Derek doesn’t even grump about it, just smiles dopily until he notices Stiles looking at him, and then he steps on the gas.

They pull into the drive of an enormous house at about 11:00 pm. The whole house is lit up. Stiles snorts awake to stare at it.

“That’s your house?” he squeaks.

Derek shifts, uncomfortable. “My parents’ house,” he says. “They’re rich. I’m not.”

“It’s a big house.”

“Yeah. That’s because my uncle and his family live with them, and I think Cora still lives at home and so does Laura and her family.”

“And you? Are you going to live at home when we graduate come spring?”

Derek doesn’t answer. Instead, he opens his door, shuts off the engine, and pops the trunk.

Almost immediately, the door opens and a very pregnant woman waddles out to stare at them, her hands fisted on her hips. The light from the porch illuminates her perfectly.

Derek hands Stiles his suitcase and then starts up the stairs. When he reaches the woman, he takes a step back.

“Cora?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Who else would it be?”

“But aren’t you dating what’s-her-name?”

“Lydia, and yes. We decided we would use sperm donors.” Cora rolls her eyes. “You would know all this if you talked to us more than just at the holidays.”

Chastised, Derek ducks his head. “Sorry.”

Stiles thinks it’s been awkward long enough, so he sticks out his hand. “Stiles Stilinski. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hale.”

“What kind of a name is Stiles?” Cora asks.

Derek clears his throat. “He’s my boyfriend. And Stiles is a nickname.”

Cora gives Derek a flat look. “Your boyfriend?”

Derek nods. He looks so nervous. He hasn’t looked this nervous since he and Stiles were paired together after the first rooming fiasco.

“Well,” Cora eyes Stiles with a disapproving glare, “I guess you’d better come in and meet the rest of the family. The ones that are awake anyway. Be extra quiet: the kids are asleep.”

Inside is just as opulent as the outside, perhaps more because inside is completely lit up and doesn’t have to battle the darkness of night.

There are portraits of what must be the Hales and their families everywhere, tasteful crystal décor, and polished marble floors.

It’s very austere, and Stiles understands why Derek said his parents were rich but not him. Stiles has seen how Derek chooses to decorate, and it’s in warm tones with soft surfaces and very limited bits of chrome.

Twin sweeping staircases stand guard at the end of the foyer, leading up to what presumably is more austere marble and crystal, severe lines of cold.

Two handsome people, the woman is an elgant black gown, the man in a black suit, Windsor knot in his silver tie, stand in front of the staircases. Cora stops next to them, says something lowly, and then heads upstairs. Nervously, Stiles clings to his suitcase and follows as Derek walks, spine straight, face blank, toward what must be his parents.

His mother lifts her head, and Derek stops in his tracks.

“Wonderful of you to join us, Derek,” she says, like she’s a queen surveying her subjects and finding them very lacking. Stiles had thought his clothing, a dark t-shirt covered with an open blue flannel shirt and khakis, was fine in Berkeley. Here, it’s completely out of place. Derek’s outfit of a maroon shirt and dark slacks looks a little less out of place, but far too casual for this foyer.

“Mom, Dad,” Derek returns, and it is so incongruous with the image they’re presenting that Stiles has to stifle a hysterical laugh.

After a few more moments, Derek’s parents break, and smiling, they all but run to Derek and hug him at the same time. Derek’s father disentangles himself first, turning to Stiles and offering his hand for a shake.

“So this is the man who’s caught our little Derek’s heart?”

Derek flushes at his father’s words, but he doesn’t disagree.

Mr. Hale grins, using Stiles’ hand to tug him into a quick hug. “Welcome to the family, Stiles.”

“Uh, thanks?” Stiles doesn’t wriggle free, but it’s a near thing. Derek must realize how out of place he’s feeling, still reeling from the complete change in demeanor, because he laces his fingers through Stiles’, grounding him.

Talia nods at their hands. “And how is the relationship? Single rooms?”

Stiles coughs to cover another laugh. He and Derek share a bedroom in their apartment—it was cheaper than two bedrooms—so they should be okay sharing a room. A bed might be another matter, but they’ve been living together at college, so if they’re dating, they should already be comfortable with seeing each other naked, having morning erections around each other, and all those other embarrassing things no one ever talks about happening when people start having sex with each other.

Derek blushes. “It’s a little new, the relationship, but it’s strong. We can be trusted to be in the same room.”

“It’s late,” Derek’s father says. “Let’s get you boys settled, and then we can all talk tomorrow.” He looks at Derek with kindness in his eyes. “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been up to.”

The room he and Derek are deposited into is medium sized. Stiles would have thought all rooms in the house would be enormous. Derek watches him studying it before explaining, “I went through a phase where I didn’t want anything from my parents, so they moved me in here. It used to be a closet, but it was the smallest they were willing to let me be without me moving out.”

“How old were you?”

Derek shrugs. “I was ten.” He frowns at Stiles’ sudden chuckle. “I was very self-righteous. I thought we were bad because we were rich and I didn’t want to be.” Quieter, he adds, “I was very bullied in school.”

“So was I,” Stiles reveals. “I always pretended that it didn’t bother me, but it did. It’s why I chose Berkeley. Close enough to go home to see my dad, but far enough away that I didn’t have to see my tormentors again.”

“I’m glad we found each other,” Derek says. He points at his bed, a single twin. “You can have the bed. I’ve got an inflatable mattress around here somewhere. I can get that blown up and sleep on that.”

Stiles is too tired to argue. It’s only a little after 11:00 pm, but they’ve been driving for most of the day, and he just feels under stimulated and uninterested in anything except brushing the gnarly taste of garlic pretzels out of his mouth and collapsing into a deep, refreshing sleep.

“Bathroom?”

Derek points down the hall, and Stiles takes his travel bag with him. He’s not sure what he’s expecting when he opens the door, but it certainly isn’t a soft coral pink bathroom with matching rugs, toilet cover, and shower curtain. It’s hideous. Stiles loves it.

Everything was getting a little too marble for his liking. This shows a human side to the Hales.

Because he’s Stiles, he snoops a little. Finds magazines in a holder on top of the toilet. Gross. Finds extra soaps and feminine products hidden in the cabinet under the sink. Cool. Other spare products and towels are kept behind a closed door. Good.

Overall, the bathroom passes muster enough that he feels comfortable scrubbing his teeth clean, scraping his tongue, and washing all evidence down the rose quartz-colored sink.

Derek comes in before Stiles finishes drying his hands on the fluffy, rose-scented towel.

He does a double-take at the room, digs under the sink for a little while, and stands up. “We’d better leave no evidence that we were ever here,” he says, ominously. “The bathroom’s been redone since I was last here at Christmas. I think that means, especially because her favorite color is pink, that this bathroom is Lydia’s and we shouldn’t ever be caught in here.”

“How unhygienic,” Stiles replies, pointing at the magazines. Derek claps a hand over his mouth to stifle the sudden bark of laughter.

“I agree. But honestly, it’s probably a lot more hygienic than your phone.”

Stiles bumps shoulders and then heads back to the room. Derek has indeed found and inflated an air mattress. Stiles crawls onto it to test the bounce, and oh, there’s his pillow. For some reason it’s on Derek’s bed. He grabs it, tucks it under his head, and just like that, out like a light.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

Stiles wakes up to a warm body next to his, someone’s leg wound around his, someone’s head on his shoulder. He blinks up at the ceiling, watching as the sunrise fills the room with a lovely, rosy glow.

Then he remembers where he is and what’s supposed to be going on and sits up, arms flailing as he tries to dislodge himself from a very deeply asleep Derek.

He hears a clicking sound, and his head snaps around to find an elegant strawberry blonde in very tight blue wrap dress aiming a phone at him.

“Whasit?” he grumbles, glad that both he and Derek apparently decided to sleep in their clothes. Usually, they’re both strip down to boxers kind of guys. It makes it hard for Stiles to sleep sometimes when he just really wants to lick Derek’s abs or jerk off over him. And apparently there goes his morning wood.

“It’s just payback,” the strawberry blonde says, loud even though it’s obviously early. Derek jerks awake, snorting, and gasping like someone doused him with cold water.

It doesn’t help Stiles’ inappropriate boner at all.

“Payback for what?” Stiles asks. He’s never met this woman. Why does she need payback?

“Oh hey, Lydia,” Derek says, gruff. Sexy morning voice alert. “What brings you to our room today?”

“Someone used my bathroom.”

“Didn’t used to be your bathroom,” Derek responds. He turns to Stiles. “Stiles, this is Cora’s fiancée, Lydia. Lydia, this is my boyfriend, Stiles.”

“Hmm, so he is real,” Lydia remarks. She snaps another picture, says, “Stay out of my bathroom or I’ll expose your sleeping arrangements to Mom and Dad.”

Derek yawns, lazily slipping an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and using the lax grip to tug him back down. “Mom and Dad already know we’re sharing a room. It stands to reason that we’re comfortable sharing a bed too. After all, we’ve been living together for almost four years now.”

Lydia huffs and flounces out of the room, but Stiles saw on her face; she lost and she knew it. And she didn’t mind.

Derek adjusts his grip, nuzzles into Stiles’ neck again. “Hope this is okay?” he murmurs.

Stiles swallows hard. “Yeah,” he grits out. “This is perfect.”

Still, Derek rolls away from him. “I’m going to get up now. It’s the perfect time for a quick run. There’s a bathroom down stairs, third door on the left. Ask my mom or dad if you can’t find it. Don’t trust anything Lydia or Cora tell you.”

He grabs a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his suitcase and heads out.

Stiles flops back on the bed, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Derek’s leaving feels like dismissal and Stiles isn’t sure if it’s because he was being a little too enthusiastic, i.e. the boner, or not enthusiastic enough.

It feels horrible, like a pit is growing in Stiles’ stomach, and he realizes that he won’t be able to maintain the charade of being Derek’s boyfriend without someone on his side.

But he’s in Chula Vista, not Beacon Hills. His dad is a whole ten hours away, and Stiles hadn’t realized that he only has one friend in the whole world.

How Derek is more sociable than him, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that if he doesn’t spill to someone, he’s going to break down, and the public breakup won’t be public nor a breakup.

He’s sort of saved when Cora knocks on the door and comes in before he can do more than say, “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to apologize for Lydia,” Cora says. She sits on the bed, cradling her stomach. “Mom and Dad are humoring her because her parents just got divorced and she’s not taking it well.”

Stiles studies her. “You weren’t this nice last night,” he says, hoping that she isn’t offended. When she throws her head back and laughs, he lets out a little sigh of relief.

“No. I’m not a night person.” She rubs at her stomach, catches herself, and sits on her hands. “Look, the baby likes to tap dance on my bladder, and whoever said morning sickness was only morning or just in the first trimester lied their fucking head off. I was startled when Derek brought you home. He’s been talking about his roommate nonstop. I actually thought you were dating before now, but he never said your name, always claimed we’d think you were imaginary if he did that.”

“I get it,” Stiles says. “Whenever someone stumbles over my real name, I tell them I go by Stiles, and every time, I get, ‘What kind of a name is Stiles?’ instead of ‘Cool, something easier to say.’ It’s discouraging.”

Cora’s hand comes up to pat at her belly, and she frowns down at it. “I swear I’m not usually this tactile.”

“It’s okay. It’s your body. Hormones and all.”

“Tell me why you decided to date my brother. Did he finally get his head out of his ass and ask you?”

Stiles coughs. “Uh, sort of?” He winces. “I mean, yeah, he finally asked and we made it official, but I mean, I haven’t dated anyone since high school, and Derek’s never been with anyone else as far as I know.”

“That’s it exactly.” Cora points at Stiles and he looks down at himself. He’s not bad looking—if his dad can be trusted—and he’s been making more of an effort with even his casual clothes since he and Derek began living together. “Derek doesn’t date. So why you? No offense.”

“Some taken,” Stiles replies. He shrugs at her. “I don’t know why.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Cora hauls herself up, shakes her head, and sinks back to the bed. She pats next to her, and Stiles hesitantly joins her.

She leans in close. “So, how much is he paying you?”

“Wh-what?”

Cora has a gleam in her eyes that makes Stiles entirely uncomfortable to be trapped here with her. “I’m guessing that you and he aren’t really dating, but since it’s Laura’s tenth wedding anniversary this weekend, he doesn’t want to be bothered by the copious aunts and grand-aunts that like to pinch his cheeks and ask when he’s bringing home his bride. Ergo, you, because my brother may be many things, a coward, spineless, and utterly useless at getting dates, but he does have a soft spot for you.”

Stiles stands up. “Derek isn’t spineless or a coward,” he says, angry at her. “Why would you even say that? Do you even know your brother? He was terrified to come to college. I don’t know why. He hasn’t shared that with me yet. But when I needed a roommate after my first roommate turned out to be the biggest bastard on campus, he stepped up. We’ve been friends since. It was a natural progression of our relationship because, yeah, we fell in love with each other.”

Cora grabs his wrist. “Don’t leave. Not yet. I’m sorry.” She tugs, and he sits. He’s breathing hard, heart beating a little too fast. He doesn’t know why he got so angry except for the fact that he knows the true Derek, the one who likes cooking and cleaning and studying microbiology and taking life art with Stiles just so he’d know someone in the class.

Cora takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I said that about Derek. I just needed to know.”

“Know what?”

“That you love him too.”

Stiles blinks. Derek doesn’t love him. Not like that.

“I can see that you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Derek loves you. He won’t admit it but it’s in his voice when he talks about you. It’s in the way he won’t let anyone call you imaginary but also won’t reveal your name, because he’s trying to protect you. I don’t know. I do know my brother, and I know that he loves you, and you love him too.”

Stiles doesn’t even know where the tears come from, but he finds himself sobbing on Cora’s shoulder as he confesses that Derek did actually hire him precisely for what Cora accused.

She listens patiently.

Then. “You’re both the biggest idiots.” She throws a roll of toilet paper at him. “Kleenexes get a little rough on the nose when you’re prone to hysterical fits,” she explains to his raised eyebrow. “Quadruple ply is a Godsend.”

Once he’s dried his face and blown his nose, Cora takes his hand again. “Look, I get it. I do. Our family can be overbearing. It was hell keeping them off Lydia’s and my backs long enough to have the discussion about children. And we’re not even married yet. But trust me on this: Derek does love you.”

“So how do I get him to ask me?” Stiles asks. “I mean, after all this. We’re supposed to have a public breakup after this weekend.”

Cora laughs. “Mom and Dad are going to be so pissed they let you sleep in the same room if you do that.”

“I’m serious. I’m supposed to break up with Derek so that he can, I don’t know, save face with his family. I guess because they’ll never see me again.”

She nods. “Makes sense.” She tilts her head, chewing on her lip. “Okay, I’ve got it: instead of breaking up with him, you propose to him. Confuse him. If he really likes you, he’ll probably say yes, and you can be engaged for however long you like. If he still wants to break up with you, then he can’t do it without a little shit sticking to him.

“Oh, I know! You can do it when we go to the mall!” To Stiles’ confused face, she explains, “It’s a tradition to do a scavenger hunt in the mall after a celebration. After we celebrate Laura’s anniversary, we’re going to the mall. It’ll be the perfect place to propose. Or breakup.Whichever it ends up being.”

“One problem: how am I supposed to live with Derek if he says no?”

Cora shrugs. “I don’t think he will, but you could make him move out if he does.”

“Another problem,” Stiles says. Cora rolls her eyes. “I don’t have a ring. I don’t even know Derek’s ring size.”

“That’s easy enough. I have everyone’s ring sizes. I’m the official jewelry expert in the family. That’s why.” Stiles nods. The Hales are so weird, but he finds it endearing. He supposes the Stilinskis would be just as weird to the Hales with their traditions. “Anyway, I’ve got the perfect ring for you to use.” She struggles up and then waddles toward a room three doors down the hall from Derek’s closet room. Stiles waits for her at the door. When she comes back, she tosses a small black box at him.

He flips it open and stares down at the silver band set with a single black cubic zirconium stone. Cora’s right, it’s perfect. It’s neutral enough to go with Derek’s wardrobe full of warm tones and dark pants, but also enough of a statement to bring attention to the fact that he’s wearing an engagement ring. Classy but not overstated.

Derek does have a few bright shirts mixed in, but he doesn’t wear them anywhere but around the apartment. Stiles thinks it’s because they’re gifts from him and Derek likes how soft they are. It makes Stiles unreasonably happy whenever he catches Derek wearing one of them.

“Are you positive he’ll say yes?” Stiles asks. He really doesn’t want to destroy his and Derek’s relationship. Although, he has a feeling that they’re already way past that.

“About seventy-five percent,” Cora says, and because they’re at her room, she shuts the door in his face before he can complain about those odds.

Stiles wanders back to Derek’s room. He keeps staring at the ring. It’s too soon to propose, right?

They’ve only just started dating, right?

They’re not really dating. It won’t be a real proposal. Right?

He closes the box and hides it in his pillow. Then, he grabs a change of clothes and his travel bag and heads to the downstairs bathroom for a quick shower.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

Over the course of the day, Stiles is introduced to far more people than he ever expected to meet, and is frankly exhausted by the time they all pile into vehicles, he and Derek riding with Derek’s frankly frightening Uncle Peter and his partner, Freddie, to go to the restaurant.

The ring box is secure in his pocket, and he does his best not to touch it, aware that as the “new” significant other, he’s being subjected to a lot of interrogations, hugs, and all around suspicion. Through it all, Derek stays by his side, directing him away from the more prying of the aunts, or having him hide in an empty room until someone can make an announcement that makes Derek’s boyfriend seem like old news.

Finally though, they all sit at six tables pushed together, a buffet against the back wall of the room. The restaurant is owned by a pair of great aunts who insist on Derek and Stiles sitting next to them so they can gossip about the changes at California University-Berkeley.

“You know, Marsha was a co-founder of the first LGBTQ organization,” the more wizened one states. “How’d that go for you, dear?”

Marsha rolls up her sleeve to show off a large scar. “Thirty stitches and an expulsion.” She winks at Stiles. “And I’d do it all over again because it’s how I met the love of my life.”

He smiles politely. “I’m glad times have changed,” he says. “I don’t think I could scar as neat as that.”

“Well, that’s Diana’s doing. Such steady hands even as she berated me for putting my life in danger.” Marsha sighs wistfully. “Some things don’t change.” With sharp eyes, she pokes at Stiles’ soul, and he shudders at the sensation of being seen and known. “You may think you’re not scarred, but you are.” She turns to Derek. “Make sure you treasure this boy, eh?”

Derek nods almost frantically. He grabs Stiles’ and his aunts’ glasses. “Refills?”

“How long have you been together?” Marsha asks, and Stiles knows he should stick to the script he and Derek came up with, but he can’t. So, he leans in, like he’s telling a big secret, and whispers, “Three and a half years.”

Diana whacks at Marsha’s shoulder. “That means they’ve been steady since they met,” she excitedly exclaims. Stiles flushes at the sudden eyes on their end of the table.

“What I meant,” he stutters out, under the heavy, heavy gaze of, like, a million Hales, “is that we’ve been dancing around each other for years. We’ve only just decided to make it official.”

Derek plops down the glasses. “Don’t scare him,” he chastises his aunts, and by extension, all the nosy, nosy relatives. “I actually happen to love him, and I’d appreciate not having to find him again when you all chase him away.”

As if practiced, all the Hales go back to their own plates and conversation.

Stiles leans into Derek, gratefully sipping at his Sprite. Derek leans back a little, and they balance nicely. Until Stiles remembers what he’s planning to do during the after-dinner excursion. Then, he just sits there while Derek chats amicably, offers to refill Stiles’ plate, and almost holds his hand whenever he gets up from the table.

After the meal, Peter and Freddie give them a ride to the mall. Surprisingly, Peter hadn’t done anything to get kicked out, like Derek had predicted. Stiles thinks it’s because whenever Peter opened his mouth, Freddie squeezed his leg. Someday, Stiles thinks, if things work out, he and Derek could be like that, communicating with just a touch.

At the mall, Laura and her husband, Jordan, hand out a sheet of paper with things to find, and the Hales disperse, a literal army of at least thirty people, led by Marsha and Diana on their motorized wheelchairs.

Stiles allows Derek to hold his hand as they follow along more sedately. Stiles isn’t going to participate in the scavenger hunt, too nervous and afraid that if he uses it as a distraction, he’ll forget why he’s really here.

They get to the second level, and Derek points out a few things on the list, but Stiles has had enough. He sees Cora and Lydia in the crowd and makes his way toward them. Cora catches his eye and nods.

Stiles takes a deep breath, drops Derek’s hand, and then kneels down before he can think about it.

Derek turns to see what’s up and claps his hands over his eyes, like that’s going to make Stiles stand up again.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. “Derek, love, can you look at me?”

Derek shakes his head. He’s blushing, hard. Probably because they’re in the middle of a crowd. Apparently neither of them quite care for the public spectacle. Good to know.

Stiles pulls out the ring box. He takes another deep breath, teetering on the edge of backing out and letting Derek think it was a prank.

Behind Derek, Cora and Lydia both stand, hands clasped together, staring wide-eyed. Cora knows it’s not fake, so why does she look so invested?

Faintly, Stiles hears someone say, “Go for it!” So he gathers his conviction and opens his mouth.

“Please open your eyes,” he says, softly. When Derek does, Stiles is surprised to see tears there. “Derek Hale, I love you. I know we haven’t been dating for very long, but I already know I want to marry you.” And suck your dick, but Stiles doesn’t say that out loud. There are children present for God’s sake. “We go together like two things that you wouldn’t think would be good, but then they end up being the perfect pair. And I don’t ever want to give that up. Please say yes?”

Derek is already nodding, his expression goes from obviously embarrassed to fond and soft, in a way Stiles is entirely unused to seeing from him, even after living together for most of three and a half years.

Behind Derek, Cora and Lydia begin jumping up and down, squealing. Startled, Derek glances back at them before quickly focusing on Stiles again. He helps pull him to his feet and then wordlessly extends his hand. Stiles slides the ring onto his finger. Cora was right about the size and about the style. It fits perfectly, and Derek smiles at it.

Something warm blooms in Stiles’ chest, and it’s because he put the ring and the smile on Derek.

And oh fuck. Oh fuck, he just proposed to Derek fucking Hale and has gotten a yes. Fuck seventy-five percent. Fuck being unsure if his love is unrequited. Stiles leaps into Derek’s arms and is met with a completely off-kilter, totally unbalanced, completely perfect imperfect mashing of lips and noses, and they tumble to the ground, Stiles on top.

Derek is laughing, patting at him, but he also isn’t saying get up.

That’s Lydia, tugging at them. “Do you know how many germs are on this floor?” she grouses, but despite the hard edge from this morning, she keeps smiling at them like she actually likes them.

The rest of the Hales appear suddenly—probably summoned by a text—and all of them, not a one of them looks angry, they all look happy, pleased, already singing congratulations.

Cora raises her phone to show them that she recorded it all, everything, including what was their first kiss.

Oh shit. He’s so fucked. But he’s so happy too.

Cora’s right that they can be engaged for however long they need. At least they are engaged.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

The rest of Saturday passes in a whirlwind, and Derek never stops smiling. The whole drive back to Berkeley on Sunday is spent in contented bliss, and when Derek isn’t driving, he just stares at the ring.

About an hour from their apartment, Derek pulls over, and Stiles jerks awake.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Derek says, but Stiles can hear it in his voice. Something’s wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks again, gentling his tone.

Derek takes off the ring and hands it to him. “Thanks for that. I really liked it.”

“Liked what?” Stiles stares at the ring. It looks wrong in his hand and not on Derek’s finger. It’s only been there about twenty-four hours. It shouldn’t look wrong, but it does. “Is this about the agreement?”

“Yeah.” Derek clears his throat, a clear sign that he’s about to start crying. He looks heartbroken. “The agreement. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do what?” Stiles asks. He turns the ring over, grabs Derek’s hand, and slides it back on. “Your sister already told me that you’re in love with me. I’m in love with you. I proposed-proposed to you. If you really don’t want to marry me, at least wait until we’re home before you break my heart.”

Derek just stares at him.

Stiles waves his hand by his head. Maybe he’s just too tired of this damn charade that they never should have done. Maybe he just wants something for himself for once and he’s willing to fight for it. “I know, you told me don’t believe what Cora says, but she also said you talked about me incessantly ever since you met me. Dude, we’re in love with each other, and yes it sucks that it took making up this fake dating thing for us to realize it, but if you think that I’m going to just roll over and say, ‘Hey, that was great, let’s never do it again,’ then you’re sorely mistaken.”

Derek covers the ring with his other hand, watching as it peeks through his fingers. “You’re in love with me?”

Stiles feels like snapping, but doesn’t. “Yes.”

Derek nods. “Thanks. I-I love you too.” He puts the Camaro in drive.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence. Stiles doesn’t feel relief at things being in the open nor at the sight of the ring on Derek’s finger where it belongs.

Instead, he feels dread rising. Something is going to happen when they get back to their apartment, and it might just be the end of them. Stupid, stupid, they just confessed their feelings for each other. Things should be looking up, not down.

Derek parks and immediately goes to grab their suitcases from the trunk. Stiles heads up the stairs to unlock the front door.

“So, I want a redo,” Derek remarks suddenly, his tone forced into easy and cheery.

Stiles pauses where he’s unlocking the door. “Redo?”

Derek moves closer, shoves the suitcases aside, and brackets Stiles’ head with his hands. He leans in until their faces are just an inch apart. “A redo.” And he kisses Stiles, and even though the doubt is still there, warring in Stiles with the warmth of knowing he has Derek’s love, it gets a little smaller when he falls back against the door and Derek follows him in.

“I am gonna suck your cock so good,” he murmurs against Derek’s lips.

“Not if I suck yours first,” Derek returns.

And that is the story of how Stiles and Derek finally stopped pining and started boning.

Cora tells the story of how they got together at their wedding five years later, conveniently leaving out the part about being seventy-five percent sure that Derek was in love with Stiles, but Stiles forgives her because while she may have been only seventy-five percent sure, he and Derek are both one hundred percent in love and getting married.

~ The End ~