#i’m also the worst at texting with them which blows. almost everyone else i think i’m decent at calling or talking to remotely

[callixton]

god i really do not want to go home this summer this is gonna hurt so bad :(

[bokugaos]

piece by piece.

pairing: kuroo x reader

length: 3.1k

tags — sex work/prostitution, semi-public sex, oral sex, alley blow jobs, rough sex, creampie, violence, abuse/assault, jealousy, possessiveness, angst.

summary: The first time Kuroo fucks you is your first ever. The second time he fucks you is also the last time.

The first time is in a dirty alley behind the bar, Kuroo’s pants around his ankles and you are fumbling awkwardly down to your knees.

He’s drunk and angry, too pissed off at the world to care who’s sucking him off in the dingy shadows beside the garbage bins. It’s not a bad blowjob by far—certainly not the worst he’s ever had—mouth warm and tight as he grips your hair and shoves his thick cock down your throat. You gag a little until your pretty eyes start to water, though you don’t try to pull away; you just let Kuroo fuck your mouth until he comes with a grunt, and swallows every drop before wiping your lips absently with a delicate hand.

Kuroo doesn’t look up as he tucks himself back into his jeans, though he can hear you get off your knees and lean against the wall with a sigh. The orgasm has taken the edge off his simmering rage, but he’s still drunk as fuck and anxious to get home and crawl into his lumpy bed. He digs into his jeans for twenty bucks and hands it to you without a word, and is surprised when you stuff it into your pocket and then grabs his arm before he can walk away.

“Do you…want me to do that for you again some time?” you ask, and look up at him with wide, hopeful eyes like he is the fucking Santa Claus. “I can meet you here? Or at your place?”

The words are on the tip of his tongue as he shrugs your hand off with a sigh; that he’s not picky about who sucks his cock and pretty much any mouth will do. Instead, he looks at your earnest face and the slightly desperate expression you’re trying to hide and finds himself saying the last fucking thing he ever expected.

“Yeah, here. Same time tomorrow.”

—

He doesn’t even learn your name until the fifth time you suck him off, still panting slightly after taking the load down your throat with a pleased smile.

“My name’s y/n,” you say, staring up at him through those lashes like you’re expecting a fucking pat on the head. He has no idea how he’s supposed to respond so he says nothing, shoving the money at you with a grunt before walking away.

He doesn’t need to know your name or what you do when he’s not around. And he does not spend any time wondering where you stay or why you’re out on the streets in the first place.

It’s none of his fucking business.

—

The first time Kuroo fucks you is also your first time ever, though he has no clue he’s dealing with a virgin until the deed is done.

You’re in his bed, and on your hands and knees, face pressed into the mattress and your hands clenched so tightly on the sheets. If he had bothered to, he might have guessed at the lack of experience; would have known from the wild look in your eyes and the nervous gnawing of those plush lips as you strip hastily and crawl onto the bed.

Instead, he’s too distracted by the show of your skin and his own painful erection to do much more than a perfunctory prep before he’s pushing in. you keen, high and wounded and clench down, and it takes every bit of his willpower not to just shove his cock all the way in and start thrusting his hips. As it is, he barely gives you a few moments to get used to being filled, before he starts hammering that pretty hole like his life fucking depends on it.

You groan, back arching against every thrust, sounding pinched and breathless every time he sinks in and bottoms out with a forceful grunt. You feel damn good around his swollen prick, and he finds that he can’t get enough of the way your skin bruises under his rough and calloused fingertips. It drives him wild when you grit your teeth and try so hard not to whine, which only tips Kuroo to haul his hips back and fuck you even harder.

He’s so pent-up that it doesn’t take long before he’s on the edge, and then he’s dragging you up onto your knees and spurting hard, biting down on a bare neck as he comes and comes inside that tight flesh. When he finishes he pulls out slowly, almost gently, though it still makes you cry out like you’re being punched in the gut.

“You okay?” he asks, as you just lay there on the bed, head cradled in your arms as you stare blankly at the far wall. “Did you come?”

“No,” you say, so quietly he can barely hear you. “I didn’t think I would the first time. Maybe once I’m used to it, and it doesn’t hurt.”

Kuroo stiffens, and slowly climbs off the bed. “What the fuck? What do you mean first time?”

You turn to look up at him and shrug, though your eyes are red and a little wet. “Everyone has a first time, right? This was mine.”

He pushes the bills into your hand hesitantly and leaves you on the bed.

He doesn’t see you again for a month.

—

Kuroo finds you there the week after, in the alley behind the same bar, in your usual spot at the usual time. But it’s obvious that you’re not waiting for him tonight, because you’re on your knees again in the shadows, sucking some other man’s dick like you were born for it.

His first impulse is to turn around and leave, to get away from the vivid image of your lips wrapped around someone else’s dick, licking and swallowing like you’re eating a goddamn ice cream. It’s followed by a second impulse to grab the guy and break his fucking nose, the rage welling up fast and violent when you start choking on the cock that’s being unceremoniously rammed down your throat.

Instead Kuroo just stands there and watches, frozen as the man in the cheap grey suit shoots his load inside your mouth with a satisfied grunt. You barely have time to swallow before you’re being hauled onto your feet and kissed within an inch of your life, roughly and messily like the guy is trying to inhale you. Kuroo is practically seeing red with the way he’s manhandling you like so much meat, grabbing and sucking and bruising you like his measly twenty bucks gives him the right to touch every inch of your body.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” the guy yells, when he finally notices Kuroo looming just a few feet away. “You her pimp? Or her next client?”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t mind him, he’s nobody.” You interrupt, and Kuroo can’t disagree, even if the words stick in his craw like so much bile.

The tone of your words manages to surprise Kuroo, if not the invitation; he knows full well that you can’t possibly live off of the measly few dollars you make off of Kuroo alone. No, it’s the way you sound when he makes the offer—all fake happiness and a sultry smile, knowing exactly which strings to pull to get a man’s groin to pay attention.

There’s none of the vulnerability and shy air that you usually carry when you’re dealing with Kuroo, and it makes him feel nauseous, like he doesn’t know which version of you is the real one.

He watches as you follow the cheap suit guy to his small green car parked just a few feet away, ignoring Kuroo as you climb into the passenger seat. He continues to watch as the man grabs you by the back of your neck and crushes his lips to yours, like he wants to take you right there, spread your legs wide and fuck you on the fake leather seats. He watches until the car tears out of its spot and disappears down the road, leaving him standing in the alley alone, his mind filled with images of you on your knees.

Kuroo doesn’t sleep at all that night.

—

Four days later you show up at his apartment unannounced, sporting a split lip and red marks over your arms, and finger shaped bruises around his neck.

Kuroo lets you in without a word.

You flop tiredly onto the couch, pulling your legs to your chest with a sigh as he heads into the kitchen to fix you some food. When he returns, you take the plate and cup of coffee with a grateful nod and a quirk of your cracked and not quite bleeding lips.

“Really? Coffee? Do I look like I need coffee?”

Kuroo snorts. “Just do me a favor and tell me who that guy is.”

“It’s fine, I don’t really know him anyway,” you shrug, and start to wolf down the meal like it’s the first food you’ve had in days. Which is both a relief and a sting to his heart, because you don’t know that much about him as well, and neither does he.

So he doesn’t ask for any further details, and you don’t offer, though he does ask you to stay the night and sleep on the couch. He tries not to think too much about the relief that flashes briefly across your face, or what he wants to do to the guy who put his hands on you and made you look this way.

You are not on the couch when Kuroo gets up the next morning, and he tells himself that it’s just as well.

—

“Are you in some kind of trouble?”

He doesn’t know why he asks the question; has received no indication from you that any inquiry into your affairs is either wanted or appreciated. But since you showed up at his place last week ago, bruised and obviously in distress, he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about what happened, and when—not if—it might happen again.

You arch an eyebrow at him and frown. “Why do you think I’m in trouble?”

Kuroo shrugs. “You’re not at your usual spot anymore, behind that bar. I thought…maybe you’re avoiding the guy that hit you.”

The smile that blooms across your face is wholly unexpected, those eyes bright with amusement and something that looks a little too much like softness.

“Yes, but it’s fine. I moved to a different spot and I don’t think he’s going to come looking for me anyway. Not after what I did to him.”

You are grinning now, practically begging Kuroo with the barely contained glee on your face to ask for details. “Alright, I’ll bite. What’d you do?”

You shrug, swallowing a mouthful of your food before you answer, “I waited until he fell asleep and took nude photos of him in his bed. Then I texted them to as many people as I could find on his contacts.”

“You did what—?” he starts, and then, “I’m quite pleasantly surprised. He’s such a good guy.”

“Right?” You say with a laugh, and then your expression changes, smoothing out into a mask of carefreeness that he doesn’t quite buy. “I left after that. But not before cleaning his wallet.”

—

“You can stay here, if you want,” Kuroo says to you the next morning, his arms around your waist as you lay together in his bed. “Just…I don’t know where you live but if you need a place to go you can crash here.”

You turn in his arms until you’re facing him, your face graced with a shy smile and asks, “Can I suck your cock in exchange for rent?”

“No! It’s not…I don’t mean you have to give me any…fuck,” Kuroo swears, as you tilt your head to the side in realization. “You don’t have to do anything for me.”

“Yeah,” You agree, “same goes for you.”

—

It takes Kuroo almost an entire week before he realizes that you have taken him up on his offer to stay, your comings and goings unpredictable and your actions often completely unexpected. There are days when you don’t leave the apartment at all; where you spend hours cleaning the living room and wiping furniture, or doing all his laundry. Other times you will disappear for an entire day and night, and return stinking of alcohol and covered in other people’s seed and sweat. Those nights, he watches as you limp into the bathroom and quietly locks the door, and spends hours in the shower, long after the water turns icy cold.

He never asks, but he never says no either, when you climb on him on the couch and unbuckles his pants with quick and steady hands. It’s not just lust that makes it so good when you lick him sloppily from root to tip; it’s also the shame bubbling just under his skin, watching you swallow him down with those perfect cock sucking lips. Kuroo can’t stop staring at your swollen mouth sliding up and down his cock; can’t stop bucking his hips and fucking your throat, relishing the noises you make when he shoots his entire load in your sinful mouth with a groan.

You always lick your lips after you suck his cock, like it’s the best damn thing you’ve ever tasted.

And you only smile afterwards when you do it for him.

—

One day, you come home in the middle of the afternoon on a Saturday, carrying shopping bags that you dump unceremoniously onto the floor. You’re wearing a brand new outfit that looks more expensive than what he makes in a week, gleaming bracelets adorning your wrists and a diamond necklace sparkling on your neck. Gone are your loose worn t-shirts and baggy, low-rise jeans; you look like a model in one of those designer catalogues, or the A-list celebrities going to get coffee in sunny L.A.

Kuroo hates it.

He hates it, because of how right you look in your expensive new outfit; like these are the clothes you’re meant to be wearing.

Like you belong in them all the time, and in a world far, far away from him.

He makes you take all your fancy jewelries off, and then fucks you roughly with two fingers until you come all over his couch.

—

You still show up at the apartment smelling like sex, with bite marks on your collarbone and your lips swollen from kisses.

But you also come home with bags and bags of groceries too, and make sure to stock the fridge full of his favorite beer.

He tells himself that he appreciates your thoughtfulness, and isn’t at all jealous of whoever the hell it is that’s giving you what he needs.

Giving you everything you deserve and could never get from a guy like him.

—

The second time he fucks you is also the last time.

You ask him to go out for dinner one night, to a place with neatly folded cloth napkins and dimly lit candles on the table, and you order the most expensive dish on the menu. You spend the evening devouring a mountain of food and making fun of the pretentious staff, and Kuroo pretends he’s perfectly fine with the fact that some rich asshole he doesn’t know is paying for this good time.

But he bites back the festering resentment and gives you a genuine smile, because he’s never seen you so damned happy and relaxed, laughing and smiling as you make your way back to Kuroo’s apartment. He lets you lead him into the bedroom and shut the door behind them, and grins into the toe curling kiss that follows as you move to the bed.

This time, when he’s got you naked on your hands and knees, he takes care to be gentle and thorough, spreading your legs wide and working you open. He slips his tongue and licks your wetness all over, and tastes every bit of that pretty cunt while you clutch the sheets and writhe and moan.

“Tetsurou,” you pant, as he slides in slowly, inch by excruciating inch. “F-feels so good! Oh, please, please fuck me, god I want to feel you, please..!”

“I’m gonna fuck you so good,” he says, groaning as you arch your back and clench around him. “Gonna make you scream my name.”

And he does, relishing every sound he can wring out of you as he sinks to the root, and every breathless sigh as he starts rocking his hips. Every stroke makes him want to push harder and thrust deeper, as he watches his cock disappear over and over inside that pretty pink hole.

He fucks you for what feels like hours that night, stopping whenever he gets too close to wring every ounce of pleasure possible from your sweat soaked bodies. He fucks you on your knees and then flips you over onto your back, and drives himself inside you like he wants to own him; be the one to break you apart and put you back together again.

“Is it good like this? When he fucks you?” Kuroo snarls, throwing your legs over his shoulders and sinking even deeper. “Do you tell them that you want them so bad? Beg them to ruin you too?”

You don’t answer, spurting all over yourself as he keeps drilling you into the bed. He follows a few rough strokes later with a groan, fingers biting deep into soft flesh, every part of him howling with possessive fury as he paints your tight walls with his come.

“No,” you whisper, much later, with Kuroo’s arms wrapped around you and his nose pressed against your neck. “It’s not like this at all.”

—

The space beside him is empty by the time he wakes the next morning, and there’s a neatly folded note on the nightstand.

He ignores it until he can’t anymore, and then crumples it in his fist and tosses it into the garbage can.

He’s always known that this is how it would end.

Still, he wishes he knew more than just your first name, or how your smile—the real one, soft and genuine—was the best thing he’d ever fucking seen.

He doesn’t see you again for a long time; days and months and years until there’s nothing left but a memory of you and a dull, aching hole in his chest.

[icequeenbae]

Desert Flower (m) Ch. 3 | BBH

Pairing: Baekhyun x Reader x Baëkhyun

Characters: EXO and X-EXO (not all of them mentioned)

EXO vs X-EXO dynamics, complicated relationships, angsty, action, smut (as usual)

Warnings: sorta mingling with your ex’s ‘evil twin’, mentions of blood/ violence (nothing too graphic… I suppose), Y/N gets teary a lot(?), explicit content, rough sex, unprotected sex

Word Count: ~13.5k (full), ~4.5k (Chapter 3)

Summary: Baekhyun, your beloved boyfriend of three years, suddenly breaks up with you and disappears from the city in an attempt to protect you. But leaving you alone and clueless means trouble will surely find you. For it is easy to spot a flower in the desert.

Masterlist   >> One >> Two (m) >> Three (m) >> Four (fin)

Author’s Note: Heyy! How’re you guys doing so far?^^ Sooo, this chapter is the longest of all since the story begins to unfold here! The next one is the finale already, and it’s going to be pretty epic, dare I say;) Let me know what kind of plot twists you’re anticipating! 💥

Tags: @blahblahblah-boo @baeklightsx @wooya1224 @baekklove​

Chapter 3. The little birdie told me

For an entire week after you first had sex, you’d stayed away. You felt guilty and foolish for letting that happen. Was he a rebound? Was it even acceptable that you did it with your ex-boyfriend’s twin? Could you live with yourself, knowing what he tasted like, or how his voice became gruff as he really got into it? And, worst of all, you wanted to experience that again. You were virtually ashamed to recall the night you’d spent with him, his roughness that left bruises (not entirely unpleasant), his bossiness that made you come out of your own shell to take what you wanted, what you needed, from him. Thinking back to the way you slammed yourself onto his thighs, or how he then folded you in half and made you come, or the name-calling… It was unbearable because despite believing that you’d made a shameless mistake, you wanted to make it all over again. You wanted to feel his prickly touch on your skin, and his prurient eyes not missing a single curve of your body. You wanted to be pushed by him, and you couldn’t understand the nature of any of those desires. Was it because you’d developed feelings for him? Or because he offered you such a pleasant way of self-destruction?

In his hands, you fell apart and reassembled. Not entirely the same, but then how could you be? The person who broke you had left for good, taking pieces of your puzzle with him. It seemed like a better option than to stay depressed and waiting to be fixed, ending up never achieving completeness.

Baëkhyun wasn’t a perfect fit for you, nor was he someone to heal your pain with the tenderness of his own heart. But only with him, you felt these strong emotions again. Only with him your heart was not aching but fluttering again, excited by the dangerous smirk he was wearing, and the predatory eyes that promised to devour you in the most delectable ways possible.

You stayed away, contemplating your decision and the rationale for it. The questions in your head seemed never-ending. Were you subconsciously trying to get back at Baekhyun? Were you replacing him? Or maybe you were just this quick in finding someone else to hand your still-broken heart over to? Baëkhyun did not seem like the guy who’d want it. He was kind of a bad guy, if you could even be the judge of that. Yet he had never actually hurt you, and he did not like to see you upset, even when it was over someone else.

Or because it was over someone else.

And although you didn’t consider him to be boyfriend material, you decided to give it a try. Not at all expecting it to be a relationship – you weren’t ready for a new one anyway. Still, you wanted to continue this unusual arrangement. Or so you’d been telling yourself when you texted him to come over after a week of radio silence.

As easy as it was for you to grow attached to him as your strange relationship quickly progressed, it should have been a warning sign. Baëkhyun kept asking you about the boys, the time you spent with Baekhyun at their base, and the stuff they’d told you about. And it wasn’t like you just spilled all the secrets – he usually asked about completely random stuff that seemed quite harmless to reveal.

But he was also a strategist. And you had no idea how powerful his mind was.

***

You laid your head on Baëkhyun’s chest, still hot and sweaty after the hours spent roughing up the bed. He stayed with you this time, arm wrapped around your waist intimately.

‘I didn’t expect you to be a natural,’ he hummed out of nowhere.

‘Hm?’ You turned slightly in his hold.

‘You’re getting pretty good at going after what you want. Will suit you well, being a little bad, birdie.’

‘Birdie?’ He met your curious eyes and chuckled, pressing you closer into his side.

‘Ain’t it accurate? You’re like a baby bird that I’m teaching how to fly.’ He stared for a moment. ‘You shouldn’t be down because of anyone anymore. I’d take personal offense if you are,’ he accentuated.

The uninvited warmth seeped into you, and you nuzzled his neck in a fit of affection.

‘Maybe you have to teach me more,’ you teased. ‘Scratch that. Teach me more.’

‘Now you’re just greedy,’ he sneered. ‘But I don’t mind.’

He allowed you to place a few kisses onto the side of his neck, before catching your hand, tracing his V-line down.

‘As much as I enjoy wrecking you, I don’t think you can take any more today.’

‘Aw, worried about me?’ You mocked, biting onto his collarbone playfully.

He squeezed your ass cheek in response.

‘Don’t test me. If you like a little more pain, it can be arranged. But not like this. It’s not what you truly want.’

‘How do you know that it’s not,’ you whined, as he patted your ass.

‘I know you, birdie. And I have a feeling that you’ve learned more about yourself in the last month than in the years prior. Care to give me some credit?’ His icy blue eyes gleamed in the dim lighting.

‘I really wanna blow you right now,’ you deadpanned. Baëkhyun was so, so alluring with that sexy hoarse laugh of his.

‘Wake me up with it tomorrow. If you want it that much.’

But the morning of slow lustful awakening didn’t come – instead, you awoke in an empty bed, alone. Brushing your teeth and washing up quickly, you headed to the kitchen to find your lover... And froze on the spot as soon as you caught bits of the hushed conversation.

‘I’m aware it’s been weeks but building trust takes time, you know? She’s already told me so much-’ Baëkhyun stopped mid-sentence, supposedly interrupted, and sighed. ‘Don’t. I’ll bring her in myself. Yes, I got it, Suhø. I’ll drag her in if I have to.’

You felt anxiety rise at his words, cold sweat breaking. Was he- talking about you? Or was he ‘building trust’ with some other girl? No, that was bound to be you. And who was he conversing with?

Everything was unclear, but your intuition had you tiptoeing back and walking from the bathroom to the kitchen a little louder this time. He finished his call as soon as you entered the kitchen.

‘Hey,’ he beamed at you as if the previous conversation did not take place.

‘Morning,’ you forced a little smile. ‘Were you talking to someone?’

‘Just now? Yeah,’ you feigned curiosity and wrapped your arms around his waist to avoid raising suspicion with your weird behavior or the slight nervous tremor in your hands. ‘Actually, I wanted to take you out today. You can meet some of my friends.’

‘Today?’ He nodded and you blinked, trying to come up with an excuse and fast. ‘Where?’

‘You’ll see. It’s not exactly in the city, so don’t dress all fancy,’ his hand settled on the small of your back.

It was clear now that earlier he had been talking to someone about bringing you in. And having your trust, which, obviously, was his goal from the very beginning. You realized that you needed to slip out carefully.

‘Um, about that… My friend from uni just called. She woke me up, actually. Asked to meet up today, and I already said yes, so…’ You trailed off.

‘Can’t you reschedule? We really should go tonight, while everyone’s in the neighborhood.’

‘Oh,’ you chewed on your lip. ‘She’s going through a rough time, so I have to meet her today. Sorry,’ you added, acting guilty.

He frowned, deep in thought.

‘Can we go after?’ He suggested. ‘I can pick you up in the evening.’

Biting your tongue, you weighed your options carefully. You did not want to alert him as to your attempt to shake him off your tail.

‘Yeah. Sure,’ you forced a smile on your face. ‘I’ll text you when I head back home for a change of clothes, and then we can go.’

‘Perfect,’ he smiled again, before pecking your lips. ‘I’ll head out for a few hours then,’ you nodded, walking him to the door.

Before Baëkhyun opened it, he turned around, catching you by surprise, and kissed you properly. The way he rarely kissed you outside your sex marathons. Deeply, full of… some kind of emotion? You couldn’t really grasp it, but your mind blanked out for a few seconds and you responded. Whimpering into his demanding mouth as his arms hugged you tightly to his body, you felt so tiny and defenseless, almost needy for his protection. But that was a deceiving sentiment.

‘Stay safe, little birdie,’ he whispered into your lips. ‘I’ll be waiting for your message. Don’t make me wait too long.’

‘Okay,’ you promised, and he finally walked out.

Closing the door, you let out a shaky sigh.

You were fucked.

At first, you almost had a panic attack, breath growing shallow and erratic. Having no idea what to do or how to get yourself out of this, you grabbed your phone and dialed the only number you could think of in this situation.

‘Please, Baekhyun,’ you whispered. ‘I’m so scared-’

But he was unavailable again.

Almost sobbing at the automatic answer, you dropped the phone and looked around. There was no one to help you, so you had to save yourself now. Wiping the tears, you grabbed your backpack and started shoving the most important items in it. Your documents, phone, wallet. A change of clothes. A pepper spray you found on your roommate’s shelf, which, you supposed, would be useless against someone like Baëkhyun. But did you have any other option? You had no powers and you would definitely not stand a chance against him in combat. Baekhyun used to train you a little, but you couldn’t even touch him in sparring unless he let you.

It was apparent that your only option was to run. So you did.

You jumped into the first cab you could get and asked the driver to head to the railway station. Making a mistake of not looking at him, you got onto your phone to try and figure out where to go from there. You didn’t notice that the car wasn’t even going in the right direction – not until it was taking a sharp turn right, off the main road, and onto the vacant plot of land, shielded from the road by a line of trees.

‘Excuse me, where are we going?’ You asked, looking around in confusion, finally paying attention.

‘I think we should take the quicker means of transportation, don’t you, Y/N?’ You saw a pair of oddly colored eyes in the mirror, and then the driver turned to face you.

‘J- Jongin?’ You gasped. ‘What’s wrong with your-’

‘It’s Kāi, darling,’ he chuckled, reaching for your arm.

Operating on instinct, you dodged his hand and attempted to open the door. It was locked.

‘Tsk. I thought we’d do it the nice way. Hyung asked me, after all,’ he tutted. ‘But I don’t think you’re willing to work with me here,’ he gritted that last part, suddenly pouncing at you through the space between the driver’s and passenger’s seats.

You screamed and struggled, and then…

It was a blur.

Like movie scenes, your surroundings were changing around you rapidly, too fast for you to catch anything. It may have lasted a split second, but made you so dizzy that you shut your eyes to battle it. When you finally opened them again, your vision was still foggy – the entire surroundings spinning. Kāi let go of your arm, allowing you to stumble forward and barely get a hold of a vertical surface before releasing the contents of your stomach onto the ground.

‘I told you to be gentle with her. She’s not used to teleporting.’ Unmistakably, it was Baëkhyun’s voice.

‘I brought her here in one piece. See arms or legs missing? No? That’s about as gentle as I get.’ The taller one rolled his eyes.

Baëkhyun approached you, a frown on his face, and helped get your hair out of your face despite your weak protests.

‘Let’s get you inside,’ he said, holding you up by the shoulders when your insides were finally done doing flips.

‘Don’t touch me,’ you coughed, pressing your side into the wall to get away from the physical contact.

‘Y/N, please. Just do as you’re told if you don’t want to be hurt.’ You looked up at him, angry at yourself for being this dumb, but also upset because your trust was again broken.

And even though you kept telling yourself that you and Baëkhyun only had ‘a casual thing’ going on, it did hurt. It hurt like a motherfucker, because you were used by a person you... fell in love with. You didn’t understand much of their plan yet, but something told you that it was all meant to hurt another person you loved.

Your feelings had always clouded your judgment. And now you’d gotten yourself into a completely lose-lose situation.

‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Baëkhyun pursed his lips. ‘You shouldn’t have tried to run away.’

‘Right. Bad little birdie for thinking of self-preservation and for once seeing someone for what he is,’ you mocked frustratedly.

‘I’m truly wondering how you restrain yourself from slapping her.’ You heard Kāi muse from behind Baëkhyun. ‘Maybe you should head in, and I’ll teach her how to cooperate, hyung.’

‘Let’s go,’ the blonde one grabbed your wrist and nodded to his crude green-haired companion. ‘Lead the way.’

You had no choice but to allow him to drag you into the building. Only then you noticed that it was somewhere you’d been before – the base previously utilized by Baekhyun and the boys. Before they abandoned it, of course. It looked different and foreign now, the hallways long and dark as you were taken to the bigger room with a round table, where the others were waiting.

At that point you saw their faces, struck by the similarities all of them bore to the squad you used to know. Your head was spinning again.

‘H- how? Who are you?’ You managed, taking in the unfamiliar variations of familiar faces.

‘So, I take it he didn’t educate her on the clones?’ Chanyeol, or at least someone who looked like him, sneered.

‘What clones? I thought-’

You were interrupted by Baëkhyun, who cleared his throat and announced.

‘She’s here, let’s begin.’

‘Don’t act like we’re not the ones who had to wait while you played with your target,’ someone scoffed from the farther side of the table.

‘Shut up, Chën.’ The silvery-white head shot a glare in his direction, eyes going from grayish blue to a darker shade. ‘Suhø,’ he turned to the red-haired man.

‘Well, well,’ he got up from his chair. ‘If it isn’t the Y/N. To be honest, you should thank Baëkhyun for having so much patience – our first idea was to kidnap and torture you for intel.’

Your eyes flicked back to Baëkhyun’s profile, but he didn’t spare you a glance.

‘Oh, I see you’re still looking for comfort in a familiar face. That’s not part of the plan. Baëkhyun, step out.’

The strategist’s head turned at the leader’s words.

‘What?’

‘Get out of the room. I don’t need her to think she has someone to count on here.’

‘But-’

‘I told you we’re not going to kill her, only use her.’ You swallowed, realizing your heart was beating somewhere in your throat at this announcement.

‘Suhø,’ he pressed again.

‘You shouldn’t be so fond of your little toy, you know,’ Chën piped up, cracking his knuckles theatrically.

‘Just lay a finger on her,’ Baëkhyun growled in response, rays of red light escaping from his now tight fists.

‘Yah, we don’t have time for your bullshit,’ Suhø interrupted their bickering. ‘The sooner you get out, the sooner we’re done with her.’

Baëkhyun pursed his lips and gave him a curt nod. Not meeting your despairing eyes, he left you in the room. Alone. With these monsters.

‘Fucking finally,’ Kāi clapped excitedly. ‘Let’s get this show on the road!’

‘Sit her down in that chair,’ someone said and you were pushed down forcefully.

The men started rearranging the room, moving laptops and phones and other stuff closer to you.

‘Hold her down, Sehūn,’ the leader ordered, then gave a nod to Chën.

You barely managed to sit still as he approached, even your knees shaking with panic.

‘What do you want from me?!’ You blurted.

‘Nothing much. We simply need your voice,’ Suhø shrugged and looked at another one of his accomplices. ‘Whenever you’re ready, Xiümin.’

Swallowing hard, you took in his words. You were the bait. To lure out the EXOs, perhaps? Or simply… Baekhyun?

Your heart faltered.

No, no, no. This was a trap, you should’ve known all along. Nevertheless, you allowed them to fool you, giving these men the leverage they needed. You weren’t going to make a sound! Anything to keep the boys away from trouble. Your mind was made up.

‘I have the line. But you have to catch his attention quickly, he’ll hang up fast if you don’t.’

‘No problem,’ the leader affirmed.

Xiümin nodded and used the keyboard to type something into a weird interface. Then turned the speaker on.

A ring sounded, then another one. You prayed that no answer would come, but after the third ring, the call was taken. For a long second, there was silence.

‘If you hang up, Y/N is going to die,’ Suhø began.

You blinked, feeling the angry tears form again, as you pursed your lips to keep your pitiful sobs in.

‘Talk,’ the speaker responded in what you realized was Minseok’s voice.

‘We have her now. At your old base. Come by sunrise if you want her alive,’ Suhø was concise in his demands. Minseok was silent for a few moments.

‘Why should we believe you? Let her talk if she’s there.’

Everyone turned to you, and you kept chewing on your lip.

‘You heard him.’ The leader referred to you, but you shook your head.

A brutal hand landed a slap across your face and then grabbed you by the hair.

‘Use your voice,’ it was Chën.

You only looked down at the greyish floor, not even blinking when you tasted blood.

‘Y/N, if you are really there, please say something,’ you jolted at the voice.

It was him. It was Baekhyun.

Breathing accelerating and heart racing, you couldn’t help the tears anymore. Wanting to scream and beg for him to come back for you, you kept shaking your head and refusing to make a sound.

‘I guess she’s not willing to make it easy on herself. Chën,’ Suhø tilted his head slightly, and you felt hands on you.

Sehūn had you in a headlock now, and Chën grabbed onto your arm with a cruel chuckle, jerking it so violently that you could not contain a wild yell. They let go of you, and you wailed, grabbing onto your numb lifeless limb in horror. You had never broken any bones, so you had no idea if he dislocated it, or fractured it, or worse. The pain was so immense that you couldn’t even register your name being called from the speaker.

‘By sunrise,’ Suhø reminded before they finished the call.

At that very moment, the door flew open.

‘What the fuck?!’ You heard Baëkhyun roar.

Red sparks fell around you as Chën was blasted away from you by a red ball of light.

His eyes were completely black, with red sparks – like those you witnessed attacking your abuser just now – floating angrily in there.

‘Stop this circus!’ Suhø raised his voice as Chën got up, something resembling little bolts of lightning appearing and disappearing around his forearms. ‘Stand down, the both of you. She was being stubborn, and we had to extract a reaction quickly. Your little human will be fine,’ he huffed, as if this was a normal course of action.

‘I’m taking her now,’ Baëkhyun answered firmly, stepping towards you.

‘Not so fast. She is to stay here until they arrive. As leverage.’ Suhø cleared his throat when their strategist wanted to protest. ‘You can keep watch over her yourself, in your room, or we can throw her in the dungeon downstairs and the boys will.’

‘She’ll stay with me,’ he gritted, helping you up gently not to disturb your hurting arm and walking you out of the room.

As soon as the door behind you slammed shut, he gathered you into his arms to carry you to the next destination. You didn’t try to resist, legs too wobbly to walk anyways, so you just cradled your arm and sniffled, at first not even noticing the room he took you in was quite familiar, as Baekhyun used to stay in it.

Baekhyun.

You sobbed, replaying his voice in your mind. The way he said your name, and how he pushed for you to let him know if you were there, if you were in danger… The stinging in your chest reignited because now he was going to walk right into this ambush because of you. Beginning to cry even harder, you forgot about your damaged arm, and the hurt, and the person who sat you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you.

‘It shouldn’t have been like this, Y/N. They wouldn’t have hurt you-’ He began, touching your hand.

‘Stop it!’ You slapped him in the face angrily. ‘You played with my feelings all this time, and now you’re just using me to hurt people I care about. Do you expect me to believe that you meant no harm? I hate you, Baëkhyun!’

‘I’m sorry,’ he muttered before raising his voice too. ‘But you shouldn’t have been stubborn! Why didn’t you just speak up?’

‘You really don’t understand?’ You asked in awe of his question. ‘You would if you ever loved anyone.’

‘So,’ he looked down at your lap, nudging his cheek with his tongue. ‘Is it Baekhyun? It’s because you still… love him?’

‘Why does it matter? I’m sure you guys, whoever you are, didn’t invite them here to have tea. What are you planning to do with them anyway? Is it about the Red?’

His eyes shot up to yours.

‘You know about the Red Force? He’s seriously dumb – telling you about them and leaving the clone part out!’

‘Yeah, and you’re so smart. Fooled a clueless girl with your great strategizing, well-fucking-done!’ Your words had plenty of bite, and Baëkhyun reacted.

‘Damn right! The only thing I didn’t do well to keep you safe is leaving your stubborn ass in the room with my crew, and it’s still so much better than the initial plan the Red had for you! I’ve kept you alive this long, haven’t I?’ He snapped at you, and you scoffed.

‘The only thing you didn’t- My arm was nearly ripped off, and it hurts like a motherfucker!’

‘Oh, does it now?’ He mocked, and you noticed how his fingers pressed onto certain spots of your arm, easing the pain significantly. ‘Chën could’ve done so much worse to you, Y/N. But this time he just used his knowledge of pressure points responsible for acute pain. And some of his power to shock you through them.’

He removed his fingers and you felt the pain subside, becoming almost irrelevant and foggy.

‘What- So it’s fine? My arm is fine?’ You asked, rubbing it in shock.

‘You’re fine,’ he breathed out, looking away.

For a while, you just sat like that, in complete silence.

‘Baëkhyun,’ you called, voice hoarse from all the crying. ‘Are you- going to kill them?’

He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, thinking your question over.

‘I don’t know. The plan is to capture and hand them over to the Red. There’s no telling what they’ll do to them this time.’

‘Shit,’ you swore, hiding your face in your palms. ‘This is all my fault.’

‘It isn’t. We were on their tail for a while, you just became our bargaining chip.’

Huffing, you hit the mattress with an open palm in a fit of annoyance.

‘Had I not trusted you so stupidly, this wouldn’t have happened!’

‘Oh, birdie,’ he tilted his head to the side, as if talking to a capricious child. ‘The way we met… sparked my interest. And when it was discovered that you used to be… his girlfriend,’ he paused. ‘Suhø wasn’t kidding – the Red suggested that we torture you. But I came up with a different plan, because I-,’ he looked away as if he struggled to continue. ‘I didn’t want them to hurt you.’

The way he stuttered drew your attention. But you weren’t willing to let him in again. Not about to make the same mistake twice. Instead, you kept questioning him.

‘Did you find ways to contact them through me, too?’

Baëkhyun nodded, and you gave him an expectant look. He sighed and elaborated.

‘The strawberry necklace. You told me it was from someone important to you, so I assumed it was Baekhyun, especially since he likes the damn thing. Checked it out when you were asleep because I know what I would’ve done.’

You were still confused as to what he meant.

‘He was tracking you live, so we managed to hack into it and trace the line back to a burner phone. We could not access the location without establishing a direct connection, but we got the number.’

‘I just gave you this one,’ you chuckled bitterly, and his blue eyes dropped to your knees again. ‘And now we’re freaking doomed.’

He shook his head to this. ‘I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I promise I’ll keep you safe.’

‘You think that’s what I want?! When the person I love gets murdered or worse, all thanks to-’

‘Stop saying that!’ He raised his voice again, hitting the mattress with a fist, red sparks flying everywhere without hurting you. ‘Why do you love him all that much? Didn’t he leave you?’

‘He’s walking into a trap to save me. And he’s a strategist like you, he clearly knows the odds. Are you really asking me why?’

Baëkhyun stared at you, chest heaving, and nostrils flared. It seemed like he wanted to argue, tell you that you were wrong. But instead, he looked away. His voice sounded hollow when he spoke again, eyes a dim shade of blue.

‘Get some rest. Tomorrow’s gonna be a tough day.’

Lying in bed wide awake most of the night, you prayed for a miracle that would somehow save your EXO boys.

>> Chapter 4 [fin]

A/N: Meet X-EXO ✨ So... What do you think of Baёk at this point? Is he a bad guy or worse? Is Y/N going to make it? Just one chapter left, we’re almost there!! Let’s hope that EXO show up on time yes I'm evil

[cakesunflower]

Outer Banks Series Rewrite/JJ Maybank Fic Series [5. Midsummers]

Disclaimer: None of the characters (except for Stella) or their dialogues (for the most part) are my own, and belong to the writers & creators of Outer Banks!

Previous Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Read on AO3!

Here’s episode 5 “Midsummers”!

“Dude—Mom catches you out here, and you’re dead.” Stella peeked one eye open, catching sight of her sister standing over her, arms crossed over her chest and eyebrows raised. “You’re literally out in the open.”

Kie’s concern came from the pen Stella was currently twirling between her fingers as she lay on the ground in their backyard. Stella didn’t say anything, instead took another pull from the pen, letting the familiar smoke invade her lungs before blowing it out slowly. The act did its job in calming her down, and Kiara let out a sigh before shifting to sit down next to Stella, before going down on her back, too.

Stella could feel her sister’s gaze on her as Kie turned her head to look at her, but Stella kept her gaze up at the sky. It was sort of cloudy, but there wasn’t a threat for rain. If there had been, the celebration later tonight would’ve been rescheduled ages ago.

“Look, I know you’re worried about JJ—” Kie began, but Stella cut her off.

“He willingly let himself get arrested for something he didn’t do, and he has a drug-addict, abusive dad to go back home to. We haven’t heard from him yet.” Stella looked at Kie, then, jaw hard. “Of course I’m worried.”

Kie’s gaze was soft with sympathy, but Stella could see her own concern swimming, too. After all, Kie cared about JJ as well. Maybe not in the way Stella did, but just as good. “He’ll turn up,” Kie assured. “He always does.”

Despite Kie’s efforts, Stella wasn’t all that comforted. And maybe Kie saw the deep worry that had etched itself into Stella’s features, because Kie’s face softened even more, looking at her sister gently as she asked, “What’s going on?”

Stella’s throat worked as her heart drummed in her chest, forcing herself into a sitting position while Kie kept on her back, looking up at her. For a moment, Stella hesitantly chewed on her lower lip, wondering if now was the right time to indulge, but it was Kie. It was her sister, and if Stella couldn’t tell her, she couldn’t tell anyone.

“JJ and I kissed.” There. She said it. Now it was out in the open.

Kie blinked once before her eyes widened almost comically, shooting up in a sitting position opposite of Stella as she demanded, “What? When?”

“Yesterday,” Stella admitted, stomach flipping as memories of her and JJ’s actions played through her mind like her favorite movie. She couldn’t stop the small smile from playing on her lips. “We were at John B’s, before coming to the summer series.” She fiddled with the pen between her fingers. “It just—it kind of just happened.”

Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “It didn’t kind of just happen,” she mocked. “This has been waiting to happen for so Goddamn long.” Stella tried not to laugh at the happiness shining in Kie’s eyes, which did a lot to relax Stella. She’d been worried Kie would ram on her for breaking one of their friend group rules, but Kie seemed anything but disappointed. Her eyes widened then, shoulders lifting. “Oh, shit, John B and Pope owe me twenty bucks!”

Stella blinked. “I’m sorry—what?”

Kie snickered, looking all too delighted. “We kind of had a bet going on over how long it’d take for you and JJ to get together.” Stella’s eyes widened, jaw dropping in disbelief. “I bet it’d happen before Midsummers and would you look at that! You just made me forty bucks richer, sis.”

“Wha—” Stella cut herself off with a scoff, ripping up some grass before tossing it at Kie. She shrieked through a laugh, jerking back before brushing away the pieces of grass. “Are you kidding me?! You guys bet on us?”

“Of course we did,” Kie responded with a smirk, not at all looking apologetic. At Stella’s gaping expression, she rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Stel. You two have been dancing around each other for so fucking long. We were getting tired of waiting, so we thought we’d have some fun with it,” she finished with a shrug.

Stella couldn’t believe what she was hearing, cheeks heating up at the information. She wasn’t mad or upset that her sister and friends bet on when she and JJ would get together—she was just surprised, and a little bit amused. She wondered how long the bet had been going on for. But instead of asking that, she instead inquired, “So I’m guessing JJ and I are in the clear for breaking the no Pogue-on-Pogue macking rule?”

Kie waved her off, smile still in place. “You two are the exception to the rule,” she said confidently before crossing her legs and shooting Stella an expectant look. “So? Tell me how it was.” She quickly held a hand up. “But not too many details because it’s JJ and he’s like my brother and, ew, gross. But I still wanna know! How’d it happen?”

At that, the heat in Stella’s cheeks intensified into a fire as she recalled every single detail from yesterday—as if she could ever forget. “I was, uh, persuading him to come to the summer series with us.”

Kie’s eyebrows shot up. “Persuading, huh?” she repeated with an impish grin, prompting Stella to let out a giggle. “Well, looks like it worked. Not that I’m surprised. That boy is stupid for you.”

Stella pressed her lips together to keep her giddy smile from widening. “Stop.”

Kie snickered. “Man, you two are gonna be unbearable now, aren’t you? All over each other all of the time.”

“Dude, I don’t even know what we’re doing,” Stella instantly responded with a shake of her head. “All we did was kiss. We’re not suddenly together, Kie.”

She didn’t look convinced. “Only a matter of time.”

Stella’s heart fluttered in her chest. Of course she wanted to be with JJ—it was all she could think about for so long. After that kiss, it was closer to being a reality than she could ever imagine, but they needed to talk about it, first. “Maybe. But first he needs to let us know he’s okay and that his dad didn’t fucking kill him.”

Her words were tight in her throat as she said them, sending a new jolt of worry through her. JJ never really talked about it, but she knew the kind of man his dad was, knew what he was capable of. JJ getting arrested wasn’t going to go over well; it wouldn’t with any parent, but God only knew how Luke Maybank would react to it. So, yeah, Stella was sick with worry over JJ, and she just fucking wished he’d call or text her back.

Kie sighed. “Listen, maybe—”

Whatever Kie was about to say was interrupted by their mother’s voice shouting at them from the back porch. “Girls! Get in here! You need to start getting ready.” Simultaneously, both Stella and Kie threw their heads back and groaned, loudly—loud enough for Mrs. Carrera to hear them. “I don’t wanna hear it! Get your butts in here now!”

They stood up, and as Stella shoved her pen in the pocket of her shorts, Kie grumbled, “I hate everything.”

While every other soul on Figure Eight either was overjoyed to be attending Midsummers or envious that they couldn’t, Stella and Kiara were probably the only ones who hated the party. For Kie, it was more of a socialist thing that Stella respected her for, but she also knew that her sister’s disgust with Midsummers, ultimately, existed for the same reason as Stella’s: they hated the people they were surrounded by.

All of the Kooks would be gathered tonight for the party—this year a celebration for Ward Cameron, A.K.A the father of Sarah Cameron, Kie’s worst enemy. Stella didn’t care what the party was for—she despised it. The most Stella liked to dress up was in clothes of her choice, and sure that could sometimes include make-up and dresses, but not full on evening gowns with flowers in her hair. It often felt like she was getting dressed up as a lamb for a slaughter, being pushed into a crowd of Kooks who thought they were better than everyone else because of their overflowing pockets. The adults were bad enough—Stella did not want to even see the people her age.

Namely Rafe, Topper, Kelce, and anyone who was associated with them. Especially after what they did to JJ and Pope yesterday. Dicks.

But Midsummers, much to both Stella and Kie’s chagrin, was important to their parents, especially their mother. So as soon as the two girls returned inside the house, Mrs. Carrera was ushering them towards the bathrooms, like they were toddlers who needed supervised bath times.

“Hold on a second—” Mr. Carrera paused, and Stella and Kie exchanged looks when their mom sniffed the air around them. Her eyes then zeroed in on Stella, hands on her hips and eyes blazing as she demanded, “Did you just smoke, Stella?”

Knowing there was no point in lying, Stella huffed. “I needed something to take the edge off if I have to go to this stupid party.”

This wasn’t the first time their mom caught them smoking or smelling of weed, but it pissed her off just the same. While Kie tried to stifle a smile, Mrs. Carrera glared daggers at her Stella. “You’re not getting out of this, Stella. You better drown yourself in body wash and perfume when you get ready.”

Stella rolled her eyes behind her mom’s back, but listened all the same, albeit reluctantly. Kie was the first to hop into the shower in their shared bathroom, so Stella took the time to lay in her bed and unlock her phone, hoping to see a text or missed call from JJ. Her heart jumped when she saw just one text from him, chest tight as she read it quickly.

JJ: Don’t worry about me. I’m good. I’ll see u later.

That was it. Just ten words of reassurance and then nothing. Part of Stella was relieved to have received anything from him at all, but another part still felt worried and a little annoyed. She—all of them—had been worried sick over him after yesterday, and this was all he could say? Stella figured she shouldn’t be too surprised. It was typical JJ behavior. He got in a bind and somehow got himself out of it, and never really let his friends in on if anything was wrong. But the tough guy persona could only get him so far.

Chewing on her lower lip, Stella drafted a text, but not to JJ. Instead, she sent a message to John B.

Stella: You heard from JJ? Do you think he’s okay?

John B responded within moments.

John B: Yeah, it’s all good. I’m with him right now. We’ll see you guys tonight, alright? Keep an eye out.

Stella blinked at the cryptic message, wondering what the hell he was talking about. But if recent circumstances were any indicator, something was probably going down tonight. Stella’s stomach flipped in both apprehension and excitement. These boys might be the death of her.

Soon enough, Kie was out of the bathroom and it was Stella’s turn. She showered and brushed her teeth, stepping back into her room to catch sight of a satin slip dress with a halter neck waiting for her on her bed. It was a pretty golden color with a V-neck trimmed with lace, and a pair of white and gold sandals were waiting by the bed, too. Stella huffed, the towel wrapped tightly around her. She knew for a fact that her mother thought she needed to have everything out for her otherwise Stella would be useless in getting dressed for Midsummers. It was kind of insulting.

Stella expertly dried her hair, letting the natural curls come into place, before doing her makeup. She kept it light, as always, because not even Midsummers was going to make her slap on a face full of makeup, especially in the middle of summer. Some foundation, mascara, highlighter, and lipstick was as far as she went, with her jewelry consisting of a dainty diamond star necklace and the rings on her fingers.

“Oh, good, you’re dressed,” Mrs. Carrera said upon entering her room. “Come on, let me do your hair.”

Stella frowned but listened, sitting down in front of her dresser while her mom stood behind her. She worked quickly and efficiently, braiding back the two front locks of her hair and intertwining small yellow flowers in them that Stella tried not to wrinkle her nose at.

As her mom worked, Kie wandered into Stella’s room. Her slip dress was spaghetti strapped and a lavender color, a couple of layered necklaces around her neck, and her hair down in an updo with a crown of pink and purple flowers and locks of curly hair framing her face. She looked stunning, even with that scowl she wore as she stormed into the room.

“This is disgusting,” she announced without preamble.

Mrs. Carrera wove another flower into Stella’s braid, her voice dry above her as she responded, “I know. It’s just horrible. I’m asking you two to relax and go to a fun party.”

Kie scoffed, towering over their mom. They may be twins, but Kie somehow got the tall gene from their dad, standing at the elegant 5’8”, while Stella hadn’t grown past 5’5”. “We look like bourgeoisie pigs.”

Stella tried to keep the snort from escaping, covering it up with a cough as their mom finally patted down Stella’s hair, letting out a satisfied hum before stepping back. She shot Kie an exasperated look and said, “Will you please not worry about socioeconomic injustice for one night?”

Kie scowled and Stella’s face scrunched up. This was so much more than that. She twisted around in the seat and stood up, crossing her arms and siding with Kie, “Mom, people not three miles from here have no power, no running water—and we’re going to Midsummers.”

Kie nodded vigorously, gesturing to Stella. “That’s so tone deaf.”

Mrs. Carrera huffed, picking up the little pouch she’d dropped on the dressing table and pulling out the diamond earrings. As she put one in, she said, “Do you know how hard we had to work to get into the Island Club?”

Both Stella and Kie rolled their eyes, having heard this a hundred times before. “Yeah, Mom, how could we forget?” Stella sighed. “You had to grovel for, like, ten years—”

“Twelve,” Mrs. Carrera corrected, “and we also had to cough up a huge chunk of dough, and do you know why we did that?”

Kie wasn’t impressed. “To keep up with the Joneses?”

Mrs. Carrera’s hands were on her hips, looking at her daughter pointedly. “No. So you two could have the experiences that I had as a child. Sweethearts, do you know what the Island Club is?”

“A factory farm for debutantes,” Kie flatly said at the same time Stella said, “Where brain cells go to die.”

Kie gave her a subtle fist bump as their mother glared at them before smiling exasperatedly. She placed one hand on each of their cheeks, looking at both of them as she said, “It is a nice place, with nice people, where you can do fun stuff.”

Neither of them bought the company line. “With out of touch rich people,” Stella added.

Kie rightfully finished, “While the island sinks slowly into the ocean.”

Their mom dropped her hands from their cheeks, stepping back and shooting them a look. Clearly, she was done trying with her stubborn daughters. “Okay, I want you two to put on your party faces if you wanna live,” she said before walking out of the room.

Both Stella and Kie sighed, looking at each other in resigned defeat. Stella picked up her pen, offering a half hearted smile. “Wanna take a hit before we go?”

Kie scoffed, taking it from her. “Or maybe ten.”

Less than fifteen minutes later, the girls were at the Island Club with their parents, and instead of doing the polite thing and greeting the other party goers, Stella spotted a familiar face and grabbed Kie’s hand, jerking her chin to where Pope was working out on the lawn at the grill. She’d almost forgotten that he was working the party with his dad. Thank God for small miracles.

As they approached him, his back to the girls, Kie startled Stella by speaking in a terrible British accent, “Excuse me, sir. Do we have to shuck these ourselves?” Pope swiveled around as Kie grinned and Stella shook her head in bemusement. “’Cause it might mess up my costume.”

Pope chuckled. “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” he asked and Stella stepped forward with a laugh, slapping her hand against his, front and back, before ending with a snap of her fingers. Their handshake. As he repeated the act with Kie, Pope added, “That accent was bad.”

Kie nodded. “It was. I was gonna let it go.”

Stella scoffed. “I wish you had,” she said as they came to stand next to Pope, arms folded across her chest. The three of them observed the scene before them, of all the guests gathered around in their fancy dresses and suits, drinking from flutes of champagne or drinks from the bar. “You ever seen this many Kooks in one place?”

“Yeah. Last year,” Pope answered.

Kie was squinting against the sun, but just like Stella’s, her brown skin glowed a pretty golden color against it. “We’re in the lion’s den.”

“Exactly.”

Pope glanced at the two of them, gaze lingering on Stella longer as he asked, “Have you heard from JJ?”

Kie shook her head. “No.”

“Just a text,” Stella answered, prompting Kie to look towards her, raising an eyebrow. Stella’s lips pursed. “He said he was okay and not to worry about him. But I won’t really believe it until I see him.”

“He’ll be all right,” Kie said, frowning to herself. “He’s got the survival instincts of a cockroach.”

Stella swallowed inaudibly. Kie wasn’t really wrong.

“It’s all my fault,” Pope said, the guilt thick in his tone as he frowned at nothing. He looked like he might be sick over everything that’s happened.

Stella frowned as Kie said, “Uh, you didn’t do this, Pope.”

“Yeah,” Stella chimed in firmly. “Topper almost killed you. Remember?”

He shot her a dry look. “Not something I can forget.”

Stella shot him a small smile. “JJ was just trying to do right by you. He—he knew what he was doing.” She stumbled over her words briefly because, well, she wasn’t entirely sure if she believed them. She believed that JJ thought he was doing the right thing, but getting arrested was no small thing. He was just adding onto his record, and this time for something he didn’t even do. JJ put loyalty above anything else, and it was one of her favorite things about him—until it landed him in trouble he might not be able to get out of.

Midsummers, as expected, was boring as usual. The adults drank and the teens snuck in their own alcohol in hidden flasks, dancing to the music from the live band while almost everyone kissed Ward Cameron’s ass. Stella stuck by Kie’s side, mostly because she didn’t care for anyone else there and because Kie kept glaring at Sarah Cameron, who looked like the perfect Kook princess. She was missing her not-so-Prince Charming, Topper, who seemed to be sticking by Rafe and Kelce’s sides than with Sarah. Hmm. Interesting.

At one point, Stella excused herself to go to the bathroom, walking inside the country club and down the hall. She did her business, ignoring the giggles of the few other girls inside as she washed her hands. Just as she stepped out of the bathroom, however, she let out a gasp and stumbled into the doorframe as a figure rushed off in front of her, her gaze instantly following.

She’d recognize those blonde locks anywhere.

Stella’s heart thundered, gripping the doorframe tightly as she called out, “JJ?”

*****

Despite the severity of needing to find a hiding spot or escape, the sound of Stella’s voice had JJ stopping in his tracks. He turned, catching sight of her down the hall, too far down the hall, looking every bit as breathtaking as he expected her to in a golden dress that hugged her so perfectly. And the way she was looking at him—the surprise and relief and tenderness he was sure she reserved just for him—had JJ’s heart pounding right out of his chest, and not just because he was trying to save himself at the moment.

“Stella—” JJ stopped, looking through the glass of the doors, seeing Rafe, Kelce, and three of their suited up buddies purposefully making their way over. “Shit.” His blue eyes met her concerned brown ones. “Sweetheart, I’ll explain everything later, but I gotta run right now. Just—I’ll see you in a little, okay?”

“Wait, JJ—”

But he didn’t stick around, as much as he wanted to, and instead turned and ran off just as he heard Rafe and his buddies walk in. They’d spotted him talking to Sarah because he’d needed to give her a letter from John B, after he’d spoken to and received a surprising hug from Pope, and now they were hot on his ass looking to throw more punches. JJ’d already received a beating from his dad—he didn’t need anymore, thank you very much.

Except he made his way into the men’s room, and Rafe and his buddies were pretty fast and managed to corner him no problem. Five against one—this was totally fair. Assholes.

Rafe pushed him and JJ grunted, struggling as Kelce came up behind him and locked an arm around the front of his neck, the other keeping his head in place as JJ grabbed at Kelce’s arm to loosen the grip. He struggled, heart pounding, as Rafe looked at his friends. “Hold him still. What—what do you think? A four iron, right?” He mimicked holding a golf club. “Keep his head still. I’m gonna line this up.”

JJ didn’t make it easy for Kelce to keep him still. “Very Rafe of you,” JJ said through gritted teeth. “Five on one?”

Rafe looked pristine in his stupid blue suit and bowtie. JJ hoped he’d choke on it. “If you could please stop talking? It’s very disrespectful. I’m trying to hit a ball.” Oh, fuck no. “Learn your etiquette, my friend.”

JJ kept grunting, struggling against Kelce, using his hands as much as he could to try and get away. JJ’s voice was hoarse against Kelce’s grip as he spat back, “I’m gonna kick your teeth in.” As much fire as there was in his voice, JJ wasn’t entirely sure he’d be able to deliver on his promise. Not when the odds were stacked against him.

Rafe smirked sardonically, crouching to look up at JJ with a mocking sort of sympathy. “Your face looks really bad. Starting to look like your dad a lot more.”

The insult was grating, especially given that the bruises and cuts on his face were courtesy of his father. JJ couldn’t do much more than spit in Rafe’s face. He jerked back, wiping the saliva off his face as he grinned. “Oh, shit. Alright. It was—”

The lights began flickering. “Gentlemen!” Kelce roughly let go of JJ and pushed him off, prompting the blonde to struggle before he righted himself. The security guard approached them. “Is there a problem?”

“Oh! Pardon me, officer. No, there’s not an issue. I just—” JJ cut himself off, his breathing labored as he panted to catch his breath. He looked at the others and JJ ran his fingers through his hair before deciding on a different course of action. One he knew would likely get him out of this. “Actually, yes. No, there is an issue. Uh, we got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep!” He waved a finger around. “Call it in, right?” The others looked at him, trying to appear casual and like they weren’t doing anything wrong. “Blatant disrespect for private property.”

Rafe clicked his tongue, scratching his ear. “Yeah.”

JJ turned to the guard. “I’m in violation of all kinds of shit, sir, but these young gentlemen—” He made a show of righting Kelce’s bowtie before he jerked him away.

“Don’t touch my shit,” Kelce said lowly.

JJ continued, “Uh, caught me, sir, and they’re about to take me away. And that’s what you should do.” He held his fists up like he was ready to be handcuffed. Again. “Escort me out of here. You got me.”

The guard grabbed his arm. JJ was relieved. “Come on.”

“All right.” JJ looked over his shoulder as the guard pulled him out, looking at the Kooks. “Fix that tie, son,” he said to Kelce before looking at Rafe. “You’re lookin’ spiffy, too. You Powerpuff Girls have fun,” he turned back around.

Rafe took a step forward, his voice smug. “Tell Stella she looks pretty hot for a scarred Pogue.”

Fire erupted in JJ’s veins at Rafe’s comment, a newfound anger rushing through him at the blatant insult from the son of a bitch. JJ didn’t care who they were—nobody talked about Stella like that. Not at all, not in front of him. JJ’s body moved at his own accord, a low growl escaping him as he jerked away from the guard and tried to launch himself at Rafe, consequences be damned of a five against one. The asshole insulted Stella. JJ couldn’t just let him get away with that.

He rushed towards Rafe, only for Kelce to jump in and push him away as the guard came to his back and pulled him away. “Hey! Stop it. Come here! Let’s go! Let’s go!”

But JJ struggled, the urge to bury his fist in Rafe’s face overwhelming after his words. “You think I’m afraid of you, bro?”

The guard pulled him back. “Come on.”

JJ turned and was guided out as Rafe’s voice followed him out of the locker room. “Hey, safe travels back to the cut!”

JJ shouted back, “This ain’t over!”

The guard didn’t let his grip on JJ go as he guided him down the halls and towards the doors, his grip tight as they burst through the doors out onto the patio. “Look, man, I can walk myself!” JJ exclaimed, earning gasps and looks from the guests at him being escorted out. “I got legs. Can you see that, brother?”

The guard didn’t seem to care. “Come on.”

“I really appreciate what you did back there. Let me just walk out by myself.” He struggled against the guard’s grip before spotting the older gentleman from earlier who had asked JJ for a drink. At this point, JJ didn’t care for the attention he was drawing on himself, stumbling over to where the man stood. “Mr. Dunleavy, I see you got your drink. Good, that’s really nice of you. I’m actually gonna down that,” he said quickly before grabbing the drink and downing the whiskey in one gulp.

The man gaped at him, the guard apologized before pulling JJ away. Everyone was watching, murmuring, and JJ never had mastered the art of subtlety, so he made a commotion as he was so kindly escorted out. Might as fucking well go out with a bang.

“Let go of him!” JJ turned at the sound of Stella’s voice, standing up on the patio with Kie by her side. Their parents were behind them, quietly telling Stella to stay quiet while her gaze met JJ’s. He stopped, kind of fucking mesmerized by the sight of her. “You can’t just boot him!”

The guard stopped, still holding onto JJ, who was still watching her. “Excuse me, ma’am?” the guard asked.

“I invited him here,” Stella continued, her voice loud and carrying over the newfound silence amongst the crowd. Everyone was looking at her, but she didn’t seem to give a shit, and JJ kind of fell in love with her all over again.

Next to her, JJ could hear her mom say, “Stella, stop it.”

“No, she’s right,” Kie spoke up, glaring at her parents and then at the guard. “We’re members of this club.”

“Girls, stop it,” Mr. Carrera seemed to be saying to them.

JJ took the opportunity of the guard being distracted to jerk out of his grip and push him, wincing as the man went stumbling into a waiter carrying a tray full of glasses that went shattering on the ground. “Sorry about that!” JJ said over the commotion before looking towards the girls. He pointed at them, blonde hair falling over his shoulders. “Hey, mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, ladies.” His gaze found Pope’s amidst the crowd’s. “Pope, you as well, all right? Rixon’s cove. Let’s roll.” He was walking backwards, people making their way for him as they all gaped at him in disbelief and annoyance. JJ looked back at the girls, holding his arm up. “All right, girls, come on.” He gripped his wrist. “Workers of the world unite. Throw off your chains!”

His gaze met Stella’s, who was watching him in, what he realized with relief, was amusement. He saw the looks she and Kie exchanged, a silent communication going on between the twins while their parents most definitely murmured warnings at them. And then, much to JJ’s relief, Stella and Kie broke away before running down the stairs.

JJ grinned widely, finally facing John B, who had been watching the whole thing with a grin. “Colonel.”

John B returned the salute JJ offered him. “Captain.”

JJ grinned. “Mission accomplished, sir.”

John B laughed as JJ shouted for the girls, watching as Pope pulled off his apron and handed it to his dad before running towards John B and JJ, all the while Mr. Heyward yelled, “Don’t do this! Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

But Pope didn’t listen, instead high fived John B and JJ, before John B ran off ahead and the two of them faced the girls running over, as well. Kie and Pope ran side by side, laughing, and JJ opened his arms so Stella could run into his embrace, and he laughed into her neck as he lifted her off the ground with a spin before setting her down, grasping her hand in his, and following the others as they ran.

“Later, losers!” John B shouted over his shoulder towards the partygoers.

Stella was laughing, the sound brilliant and wonderful in JJ’s ears as Kie cheered while they ran. JJ couldn’t help but laugh as well. It may have been a shitty couple of days, but at least he had his friends.

*****

The fire crackled between them as Stella sat on a log next to JJ. The cicadas were chirping against the otherwise quiet of the night, and JJ had changed out of the waiter get up and was back in his signature hat, shirt, and shorts combo. The sight of the shark tooth necklace Stella had gifted him around his neck always made her chest tighten in the best way. She and Kie were still in their Midsummers dresses, but mosquitos and bugs never bothered Stella, so she sat comfortably as the fire warmed them.

She kept looking towards JJ, though—at the cuts and bruises on his face. The sight of him injured tightened her chest uncomfortably, made her stomach twist nauseatingly. No doubt his dad had done this to him, and it enraged her. She wished, with every fiber of her being, that she could get him as far away from his dad as possible. It hurt, so badly, to see JJ injured at the hands of his abusive father. JJ, despite what others may see as faults and flaws, was probably the best person she knew. He had such a big heart, a soul that deserved to be loved and protected instead of stepped on and beaten. She desperately wished she could protect him from the cruelty of others. He deserved someone to do that for him.

“Hey, guys. So, like, my dad’s already gonna kill me,” Pope said as he and John B dropped some sticks to feed the fire before sitting down. “So what’s this mandatory meeting about?”

Stella watched as John B looked at JJ, pointing at him as if he needed permission. JJ nodded. “Might as well tell him, man, before we’re gaffed.”

John B smiled like he held some kind of secret. “You ready for this?” he asked, looking at Kie and Stella.

The two girls nodded impatiently. “Yeah.”

The fire glowed against John B’s skin as he looked at all of them. “So, the gold never went down with the Royal Merchant.”

Stella blinked as Pope groaned. “Oh, my God. Here we go again with this.”

Next to her, JJ sat up, holding out a calming hand to Pope. “No, all right, wait. Hear him out, all right?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at Pope and the girls.

John B had a finger to his lips before continuing, “It’s been here this whole time.” He looked to Kie. “It’s on the island.”

Her expression was one of shocked disbelief. “Are you serious?” She looked at John B before laughing in astonishment. “Oh, my God.”

Pope held up a hand. “I’d like to voice my skepticism.”

Stella was still trying to wrap her head around what John B said as he stood up. “I’m sure you would, Pope, but can I please present you with my evidence, sir?”

Pope rolled his eyes. “Proceed.”

John B held up a piece of paper he pulled out from his bag, proceeding to tell them about a letter he had from Denmark Tanny, a slave who had survived the wreck of the Royal Merchant. He showed it to Pope and the girls, telling them that the slaves weren’t mentioned as crew members on the ship, but that his dad found the complete manifest—his big discovery. Stella listened attentively, mouth agape, looking towards JJ who nodded with a smile on his face. He knew all of this already, it seemed. It was probably why he and John B had been together earlier.

“So Tanny used the gold from the Merchant to buy his freedom,” John B was saying. “After that, he bought his farm. Drumroll, please, because that farm is,” he paused dramatically as the group of them slapped their knees with their hands. “Tannyhill Plantation.”

Kie stopped. “Tannyhill?”

John B nodded, standing like a professor giving a lecture. “Yeah. So, after that, he used his money to free even more slaves, and then he sold a shit-ton of rice, which pisses off all the white planters, and then they decide to lynch him. So on the day they were coming to get him, he writes a letter to his son as a farewell, and in the last line of that letter, he leaves a coded message about where to find the gold.”

John B had Stella’s attention as she hung onto his every word, shaking her head as she asked, “Where?”

John B grinned. “Harvest the wheat in parcel nine, near the water.” He held up a hand. “Except, there is no wheat. You see, wheat is code for gold. Check this out.” He walked over to Pope, pointing at something in the paper Pope was holding. Stella leaned over to look as well. “The gold is in parcel nine, near the water.”

Kie laughed in disbelief as Pope murmured, “Holy shit.”

John B slapped his arm. “All we need is an original survey map of the property and we’ve found the gold.”

He was grinning widely as JJ stood up. Pope slowly started, “Okay, so this might have a small chance of being actually true.”

Kie bounced excitedly where she sat. “Dude, it’s like King Tut!” she exclaimed, earning a laugh from Stella.

“I am a genius,” John B announced, just as JJ tackled him into a hug. “Hey, whoa!” They teetered slightly where they stood before JJ lifted John B up. “Hello! Fire! You’re near the fire. You’re gonna burn.”

JJ pulled away and Stella snickered as he said, “I’m so proud of you right now.”

John B nodded somberly. “Thank you. That’s really sweet of you.”

With a shake of her head, Stella interrupted the moment by asking, “Okay, so, guys.” They all looked towards her. “What’s the plan?”

John B pointed at her as JJ made his way back. “Good question. Sarah Cameron’s coming tonight. She’ll bring the original survey map—”

JJ sat down next to Stella just as her eyes widened, gaping at John B before her gaze instantly shot to Kie, who was frowning. “Hold on,” she interrupted. “Sarah? Wh-why Sarah?”

Stella tensed, looking between a bewildered Kie and a hesitant John B. She and Pope exchanged glances, both of them suddenly aware of the tension building in the open space. “Um—” John B trailed off.

JJ took off his head, muttering, “This is gonna be good.”

Stella looked at him, catching the wince he shot her way. Silently, she frowned at him, but JJ shook his head before nodding towards John B, who stood with his fists on his hips. “Sarah, um, she. . . She got me into the archives in Chapel Hill yesterday, and there’s where I got the letter.”

Kie’s face scrunched up even more, looking a mix of pissed off and confused, while Stella gaped up at John B. “You were in Chapel Hill with Sarah Cameron?”

John B’s throat worked. “Yeah, um. . .”

Next to her, JJ announced, “He was mackin’ on her.”

Stella gasped as she stared at him, wide eyed, and JJ nodded somberly while Pope coughed uncomfortably into his fist. Across the fire, Kie was glaring up at John B, and Stella hated the betrayal she could already see melting into Kie’s eyes. John B shot JJ a glare. “I wasn’t macking.”

JJ lifted his chin, unrelenting. “You were totally macking Sarah Cameron.”

He wasn’t helping the situation, so Stella lightly flicked his arm, prompting JJ to immediately look at her, pressing his cut lips together to keep himself from smirking. She narrowed her eyes in warning, and all JJ did was link their arms together and pull her to his side.

“I wasn’t macking on her, okay?” John B spoke up, exasperated. “I was using her for access.”

JJ scoffed lightly. “There was access, alright.”

Stella pinched his side at that, despite the inappropriate laugh threatening to burst. Kie wouldn’t appreciate it, and Stella could tell her twin was seconds away from pushing John B into the fire. “Did you tell her about the treasure?” Kie demanded.

John B’s eyes widened. “I was trying to get into the archives.”

Kie’s voice grew loud with disbelief. “Is that a yes?”

“I. . . I left out key details,” John B said, looking to the others for help. Stella pressed her lips together, pressed up against JJ. If anyone noticed, they didn’t say anything, not with the current situation going on. Poor John B wasn’t going to get help on this.

“Yo, what?” Kie scoffed with a shake of her head. “You let a Kook in on our secret? What about Pogue Lyfe? What about the T-shirt company, bro?”

Suddenly, it was a battle between Kie and John B, and all Stella, JJ, and Pope could do was sit on the sidelines silently and watch. “I was just using her for information,” John B tried.

Kie shot him a wry look. “Why don’t I believe you?”

John B was growing exasperated already, shaking his head at the unhelpfulness of the others before looking back at Kie. “I’m trying to make us filthy rich here, okay, so that we can pay off a boat, or. . . or, uh. . .” He looked towards Pope, “send you to autopsy school to study bed bodies.” Stella’s face scrunched up as JJ suppressed a snort and Pope blinked owlishly. “Look, you guys know me. Do I look like the type of person to fall for Sarah Cameron?”

JJ blinked. “Uh—”

Stella tilted her head at John B. “Do you want us to answer that?” She could guarantee neither he nor Kie would appreciate the answer.

John B held up a hand at Stella. “Just—just stop.”

Kie shook her head, her jaw tight as she frowned deeply. “Look, you don’t know her yet. I do! You can’t trust her.”

Pope chimed in, “Her brother did hit me in the back with a golf club.”

John B looked to Pope. “Rafe and Sara are different human beings.”

JJ’s cheek was resting on top of Stella’s head as he asked Kie, “What did she do to you, exactly?”

Stella sighed. Oh, boy.

Kie held up two fingers and jabbed them forward. “She’s like a. . . a spitting cobra.” Everyone blinked, bewildered. “First she—she blinds you, and then—”

Stella was already shaking her head, sitting up straight as she said to her struggling sister, “This is a bad analogy.”

“Listen to me!” Kie exclaimed, clearly fed up with the situation. “Whatever we get, she’s gonna try to take.”

Her words were met by silence, other than the crackling fire and chirping cicadas. John B stood quietly, throat working, clearly unsure of what to say as JJ and Pope stayed in their own awkward silence, too. Stella suppressed a sigh. It seemed as though it was up to her to smooth things over, even if she did slightly side with Kie in all of this. She didn’t have a begrudging hate towards Sarah like Kie did, but they were sisters, and Stella needed to show solidarity. But she could also, in some way, see John B’s side of things. God, this was gonna be tense.

“Kie,” Stella spoke up carefully, prompting Kie’s gaze to connect with hers. “Whatever John B promised Sarah, that’s his issue. But if she’s the only way we can get the map, then we need to let it happen.”

Kie’s jaw was hard. “I don’t want her involved. I don’t want to deal with her.”

“We won’t,” Stella said, glancing quickly at John B before looking at Kie again. “Let John B deal with her.” When Kie didn’t look entirely convinced, Stella let out a huff. “This is bigger than your beef with Sarah. I know you know that.”

Silence fell upon them for a few moments as they all waited for Kie to respond. She sat quietly, hands gripping the log she sat on, mulling over Stella’s words. Stella, in turn, hoped she got through to her sister. They needed Kie to be on board with this, no matter her issues with Sarah. They’d already gotten this far in their treasure hunt—an old beef shouldn’t hinder them now.

Stella remained quiet, waiting for Kie to make a decision, although she silently enjoyed the sensation of JJ’s fingers ghosting up and down her arm, their arms still linked together. It was calming when others would argue JJ was anything but.

“Fine,” Kie finally gave in and everyone instantly sat up. She glared at John B. “As long as I don’t have to speak to her.” John B pressed his hands together and brought them to his mouth, his grin already forming. “I just hope you know what you’re getting us into.”

After John B profusely thanked Kie for agreeing, they killed the fire and got up before heading back to the van, since they had to drive to meet Sarah. The twigs and leaves crunched under their shoes as they went, but as Pope, Kie, and John B chatted while walking ahead, Stella lingered back and grasped JJ’s hand to slow his pace down.

He looked at her, eyebrows raising. “What’s up?”

Stella looked up at him, her fingers ghosting on his chin. Finally, she let the worry come out in full force as she asked, “Are you okay? Did—” she stopped, throat working to get rid of the lump that formed. “Did your dad do this?”

JJ’s jaw worked, blue eyes glimmering under the moonlight as he looked down at her. “Got a good chunk of money to pay in restitution,” he told her. “The old man’s not too happy about it.”

Despite herself, Stella felt the hot tears sting in her eyes. She preferred the pink in JJ’s cheeks when they were flushed when he was happy or even drunk—not the pink and harsh reds that surrounded the cuts and marked the bruises. Stella wasn’t sure she ever hated anyone as much as she hated JJ’s dad. Her throat was tight, unable to say anything except to croak out his name, “JJ—”

“Hey, hey,” he shushed her, hands coming up to cup Stella’s that had been ghosting along his sharp jaw. He held her hand in both of his before pressing a kiss to it, blue eyes locked in her brown. “I’m okay, Stel. They’ll heal. It’s no big deal.”

Stella scoffed, though her concern remained clear. “You can’t actually expect me to believe that.” The flutters in her stomach returned when JJ kissed her hand, when he looked at her with those baby blue eyes she loved so much. She let out a breath. “You’re sleeping over at John B’s, right?”

JJ offered her a small dimpled grin. “When am I not?”

Stella pinned him with a stare. They’d stopped walking and she knew they had to move soon, but she took a breath. “Whenever you can, either sleep at John’s or you sleep at mine. Okay?”

JJ raised his eyebrows, though she could see his gaze soften at her offer. But he kept the mood light as he teased, “You inviting me to your room, shark bait?”

Her heart jumped. “Wouldn’t be the first time we shared a bed,” Stella pointed out. It was the truth. They shared hammocks, chairs, couches, and beds countless times before.

“Yeah, but it’s different now, isn’t it?” JJ questioned.

She looked at their hands before meeting his gaze again. “Is it?” she returned, throat working in anticipation. This was it. This was Stella asking JJ if whatever was happening between them was real, if something more was going to come out of it than a few kisses shared.

JJ’s gaze was intense, deep in a way she wasn’t used to as it stole her breath. “It is.” Steady, resolute, firm. No room for arguments. Thank fuckinf God.

Stella felt her grin appear before she could help it, relief warming her, and JJ mirrored her smile before ducking his head and pressing his lips to hers. She returned the kiss slowly, gently, not wanting to hurt his cut lips. Her heart jumped excitedly as he kissed her, but it was cut short, unfortunately, when John B’s voice cut through the air.

“Oi! What happened to no macking?”

The two of them pulled apart, but John B was grinning, as were Pope and Kie as they looked at the two of them. Stella’s face flushed as JJ slung his arm around her shoulders before they began walking towards their friends. “I’m sure we can make an exception,” JJ said smoothly, cockily.

John B’s grin was wicked. “If it means you’ll finally stop whining about how much you looooove Stel, then yes we will.”

Stella laughed, cheeks flushing, while JJ spluttered. “I never whined!” he protested as they joined their friends.

Pope rolled his eyes. “That’s true. You just bottled it all up inside because you’re emotionally constipated.”

“Sounds about right. I’m the one who made the first move,” Stella said, grinning widely at JJ’s betrayed expression, laughing as he used his arm around her to push her away. Stella continued laughing, along with the others, as she stumbled away, but didn’t lose her balance because JJ instantly caught her hand and pulled her back to his side.

“Whatever. I like an assertive woman,” JJ said with a charming grin, pressing a kiss to Stella’s temple as they neared the van.

Pointing at Pope and John B as they climbed inside, Kie said, “You two owe me twenty bucks, by the way.”

“No, we don’t!” John B argued as he started the van. “It’s after Midsummers.”

Pope nodded in agreement as Kie grinned wickedly before meeting Stella’s gaze as she sat on the back bench. With a giggle, Stella confessed, “It was actually yesterday. Before the summer movie series.”

John B and Pope’s gazes swung to JJ, who leaned back with his arms propped on top of the back bench casually as he said, “It’s true, boys.” John B shook his head and began driving, and JJ added, “Can’t believe you three bet on us.”

Sitting on the floor opposite of them, Pope scoffed. “Can’t believe it took you two this long to get together.”

“Okay!” Stella spoke up loudly, clapping her hands together once and shooting all of her friends a look. “We’re done talking about this.”

They reached their destination soon after that, a spot off in the middle of the woods where a tower stood, the apparent meeting spot John B had set up at Kildare Hawk’s Nest. As soon as he parked the car, Pope slid open the back van door as JJ slapped his knees. “Hit it, boys! We’re goin’. Recon mission.”

But before any of them could even get up, John B turned to face them. “Yo, uh. . . So, uh, I think I’m gonna do this one by myself. . . Tonight.”

Thunder rumbled overhead as Kie rolled her eyes and Stella and JJ fell back in their seats. She raised her eyebrows as JJ drawled a knowing, “Really?”

John B frowned. “What?”

JJ took off his head. “Nothin’.”

John B sighed, fixing his own hat atop his head. “I don’t want to spook Sarah with the peanut gallery.”

Kie shrugged, voice sharp and annoyed as she looked at John B. “I just don’t understand why we’re involving her at all.”

Stella let out a sigh as she leaned back, JJ now sitting on the ground next to her, his head resting against her leg as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Kie, we’re not involving her, okay?” John B said, exasperated. “It’s—it’s just, uh, like a—a business meeting. . . Thing.” On the ground, JJ made a crude motion with the joint he held and made a gulping sound, prompting Pope to grin in amusement while Stella rolled her eyes at John B. He was not selling this well. “Look, once we get what we need, we cut her loose, all right? Plus, we need the map.”

Yeah, okay. Stella wasn’t quite sure how much she believed that.

Kie pursed her lips, leaning forward as she stared John B dead in the eye. “Promise me nothing’s happening between you two.”

John B widened his eyes, answering breathily, “Nothing is happening, Kie.”

“I’m being serious.”

“Okay!”

Kie was still frowning, as if she was trying to get John B to get the message through her glare. “This isn’t about you. This isn’t about us. This is about her.” Stella pressed her lips together as she watched them. Kie’s beef with Sarah was so damn deep, she wondered if they would be able to do with if she wasn’t on board with Sarah helping out just this once. Personally, Stella didn’t give a shit about Sarah Cameron; she just didn’t like her out of principle for the way the end of that friendship hurt Kie. Everything else was between Kie and Sarah. “Dude, she’s gonna get inside your head. Just promise me nothing’s happening between you guys.”

John B looked at her as lightning flashed outside and thunder rolled. “I promise.”

“That was really believable,” JJ piped up.

Pope nodded. “A hundred percent believable.”

Stella lightly knocked JJ with her knee while glaring at Pope, effectively shutting both of them up. John B didn’t dignify them with a response, instead saying, “Anyways, um, I’m gonna take care of business.”

JJ shook his head, playing with the joint. “You’re gonna take care of it so well.”

Stella waved John B off dismissively. “We’ll just sit here,” she said dryly. “In the hot-ass car.”

Pope added, “While it’s lightning.”

They left the back door of the van open as John B got out, backpack on as he walked off towards the tower. The wind rustled outside, thunder rumbling every now and then to accompany the flashes of lightning that warned of a storm rolling in. “Kiara, holding onto your grudge is like drinking poison and thinking Sarah will die,” Pope said once John B was gone.

“Exactly,” JJ nodded.

Kie shot the two of them a withering stare before looking at Stella. Her twin merely shrugged. “You know I’m on your side,” Stella said. “But you can’t really tell John B what he can or can’t do.”

“I’m not trying to tell him what to do,” Kie shot back. “I’m just warning him against the kind of person I know Sarah is. She’s gonna fuck us over.”

“Look, we just—we just gotta trust that John B knows what he’s doing,” Pope tried to placate, looking between Stella and Kie. “That he’s using his head.”

Kie scoffed, not really convinced. “I know what head he’s using, and it isn’t the one on his shoulders.”

“That’s a good one,” JJ mumbled quietly where he sat.

They were quiet for a few minutes, just listening to the rumble of thunder, before conversation started up again. Pope had asked about what happened at Midsummers, and JJ launched into the story that led up to the Kooks cornering him in the men’s room while they waited for John B to return with the map.

JJ was saying, “Rafe and Kelce followed me—”

Kie cut him off. “Wait, do you guys hear that?” Her eyebrows furrowed together. “Sh.”

Stella frowned. “What?”

And then, in the distance, over the sound of the wind howling and thunder rumbling, came a girl’s voice yelling, “Please, somebody, help!”

All of their eyes widened, instantly on their feet as JJ grunted, “Oh, wait, no, I hear that.”

“Shit,” Pope cursed as they all stumbled out.

“What the fuck?” Stella muttered, gripping the skirt of her dress so it didn’t get tangled in her feet as she ran.

The voice, Stella realized, belonged to Sarah, and her heart started pounding as they ran towards the Hawk’s Nest, throat already drying in worry. The first thought in her head was that something went terribly wrong, that John B was hurt, and when they all cleared a group of trees towards the base of the Nest, Stella’s fear came true as a gasp ripped through her at the sight of John B lying on the ground, Sarah crying as she cradled his head and begged for him to wake up and open his eyes.

“Sarah! What happened?” Pope asked as they came running over, skidding to a stop, their breathing labored.

Sarah was crying, and Stella’s heart clenched at the sight of John B, unconscious, fear drenching her veins in ice as she instantly gripped Kie’s hand. “I don’t know what to do,” Sarah sobbed. “He needs help. Topper shoved him.”

Anger heated Stella’s skin, momentarily taking over the terror trembling her body as JJ demanded, “Where the hell is he?”

But Sarah just cried, “Oh, please, please, please get help. I don’t care who. Just call someone.”

Stella pushed Pope away as she panted, “Go! Call 911! Go!”

Pope took off and Kie shouted after him, “Pope, hurry!”

They all stood, breathing labored and hearts pounding, unsure of what to do as their friend lay unconscious. Worry weighed heavily on them all, to the point where Stella couldn’t even stop to question the way Sarah was holding John B to her, crying for him, kissing him and begging for him to wake up. No, nothing else mattered other than their injured friend, the tears stinging in Stella’s eyes as she prayed to anyone who was listening that he would wake up. Soon. Now. Please.

[okskz]

Out in the Open. (pt.1)

Elsy + Got7

elsy wakes up to many texts and miss calls from the boys after the rumor breaks out, causing her to be in her first scandal.

I really hope you guys enjoy this post and of course let me know what you guys thought of it. your feedback is always appreciated!

[8th Member of Got7/Soloist]

It was early in the morning when Elsy heard loud knocking against her door of her apartment, causing the girl to wake up in a frantic. Sitting herself up quickly, she could still hear the loud knocks, letting out a huge groan.

Slipping out of bed, she quickly made her way out her room where she then heard her name being called out. “Elsy! Elsy, open the door!” She heard no other than Jackson yell.

“What is your problem-“ Elsy was cut short when Jackson barged into her apartment right after opening the door for him.

“Have you not seen my texts? Or calls? Have you not been aware of what’s going on?”

Elsy furrowed her eyebrows. “I just woke up!” She exclaimed. “What are you even talking about?” Elsy grabbed her phone that was set on her counter, seeing the many messages and missed calls she had. But not just from Jackson, the rest of the group as well.

Elsy was confused as to why all of them were messaging her. She even caught glimpse of her manager sending her a text too, with a couple of missed calls. “Why is everyone literally blowing up my phone?” She questioned, opening up her manager’s text first. It saying “we need to talk about this as soon as possible.”

And when Elsy finally read the message, she felt her stomach dropping from what the previous message was before that. It was a link to an article that showed a picture of her and Jinyoung, and with her hands already shaking, Elsy tapped on the link where an article popped up. “Oh no.” Elsy gasped out loud as she read the title. “This can’t be happening.”

Her heart was racing super fast now when she continued to read the rumor of her and Jinyoung hooking up with each other. It was uploaded almost an hour before Jackson had arrived, meaning many were aware of it. Elsy swallowed hard as she looked up at Jackson, tears already forming in her eyes. She felt devasted, overwhelmed, and didn’t know what to do. She’s never been in such a situation before, as her first scandal, Elsy didn’t know how to feel.

And she was even more crushed that it happened a couple of weeks before her first ever solo debut.

“Elsy?” Jackson called out, seeing the girl in some sort of trance.

Elsy continued to stare, spacing out as she thought about the article more. How could this have happened? Why was this happening?

She felt her lips quiver as Elsy slammed her phone down on the counter. “Why, why why?!” She exclaimed. “Why is this happening? Why now? Who could have possibly even done this?” She cried.

“It said it was someone anonymous that overheard our conversation.”

“How could I have been so stupid?!” Elsy pulled on her hair.

The sound of her phone ringing caused her to get startled. It was Jinyoung. And soon Elsy began to get really nervous having to hear him. “H-Hello?” She stuttered.

“Jiyeon.” He said coldly. “Have you seen what’s been going on? Your manager and I have been trying to contact you.”

“Yes.” Elsy breathed out. “I‘ve been asleep. I barely just found out.”

“My team and your team are setting up a meeting at your company. See you there.” Jinyoung hung up, giving Elsy no time to answer him. By the time of his voice, Elsy knew he wasn’t too happy.

“I have a meeting soon.” Elsy told Jackson.

“Are you okay?” Jackson questioned in concern.

Elsy shook her head. “No. This is literally the worst thing to wake up to. Everyone’s going to see me differently. And of course I’m going to be the one getting more attacked than him.”

The girl let out a defeated sigh. All while Jackson went up to hug Elsy tightly. She even wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly as well, happy that he was there for some sort of comfort.

Soon after Elsy was dressed, she made her way out of the building where her manager was waiting for her outside. Jackson came along, trying to give Elsy some support, and knowing she didn’t feel like being alone at the moment. Although she kept on insisting for him to go home.

And once she arrived, she was met with Jinyoung, who she could tell was annoyed when looking at Elsy.

“The meeting is starting soon.” Her manager said as soon as he spotted Elsy. Both teams went into the room to talk about the article. Elsy sat next to Jinyoung, fidgeting with her fingers. She was overwhelmed, never having to be in this type of position before.

She was going to be starting fresh soon and now that she was in her very first scandal, she felt as if everything was going wrong. Because even after the meeting is done, that article was still out there in the first place, and who knows who hasn’t seen it.

Both CEO’s of Elsy and Jinyoung’s companies came in and that’s when the long meeting began.

“Let’s begin.”

***

After almost an hour long of talking and agreements from both companies, they came up with a statement that was soon going to be released.

The two knew they couldn’t lie, which is why they went ahead and confirmed that the rumor was in fact true. But they didn’t mention it was in the past, and the two didn’t see each other that way anymore.

Right after the meeting, Elsy still felt a heavy heart. None of this wouldn’t of happened if she didn’t talk about her and Jinyoung out loud in public. Because you never know who could be eavesdropping.

When going down to the first floor of the building, she noticed Jackson standing with his back facing her. Meaning he was talking to someone, and as she got closer she noticed it was none other than the rest of her members. Seeing them only caused her stomach to churn.

Bambam was the first to notice Elsy and Jinyoung. “Hey!” Everyone’s heads turned to look at the two. Elsy hearing a frustrated sigh coming out of Jinyoung’s mouth. “What are they doing here?” He asked lowly.

“We came to see if you guys were okay.” Jaebeom said as they approached them. “What a ridiculous rumor.”

“Yeah!” Bambam exclaimed. “People these days come up with anything. Out of all things why this and why you two?”

“Noona, you look pale.” Yugyeom brought up. “Are you okay?”

Elsy slightly nodded. And there was no denying the both Jinyoung and Elsy looked a little off. “Are the both of you okay?” Jaebeom then asked.

Silence was all they got. Elsy looked everywhere but at her members. While Jinyoung kept his head low with his arms crossed.

“You guys are acting as if the rumor is true.” Bambam snorted. Again, Elsy avoided looking at Bambam. But her being silent about it, caused him to raise a brow. “It’s not true is it?”

Jinyoung exhaled deeply as he turned his head away. Jackson stared at the two, biting the inside of his lip.

“Oh my god.” Bambam whispered. “It’s true.”

All of them waited for at least one of them to deny but when a few seconds past and none of the two said anything. They knew their answer. “What the hell?” Jaebeom said. “It’s true?”

Elsy slowly nodded, already feel ashamed of herself as she lowered her head. “When? H-How? Why?” He said.

Everyone was in deep shock. Confused as to why they even did it in the first place. The two never saw them to be the ones to have any sort of relationship, especially with what they were being accused of.

“Doesn’t matter anymore.” Jinyoung said harshly. “It’s over and done with. We’d like to get past this.”

“And you.” Jinyoung said, whipping his head to look at Elsy. “Next time, try to keep your mouth shut while being out, yeah?”

“I get that you’re mad but no need to attack me.” Elsy retorted.

“If it wasn’t for you we wouldn’t be in this mess right now.”

Just what Elsy needed, after the two had finally made up, here they were arguing yet again. “You have it easy anyways! Everyone’s going to probably see me differently now because of this, but you, you can still go on living your normal life.” Elsy argued.

“You don’t have anyone to blame but yourself for that.”

It was in that moment Elsy wanted nothing more than to strangle Jinyoung on the spot. She hated this side of him, not caring about how she felt and honestly how he only thought about himself. Elsy was tired of constantly getting attacked by Jinyoung over anything situation that involved her.

“It was actually my fault.” Jackson spoke up. “If I hadn’t said anything to Elsy about you two. She would have never mentioned it.”

“And how did you find out?” Jinyoung asked.

“I overheard you two talking.”

“Great.” Jinyoung huffed.

There was silence between the group again, all of them taking in the information about their two members. Elsy only hoped this wouldn’t ruin anything or her relationship with them. She wish there was a way she could take all of it back.

“Where are you going?” Youngjae questioned Jinyoung as he began moving forward to the door.

“I’m done here.” He replied. “Also Jiyeon, I think it’s best if we don’t see each other. At least until this blows over.”

Elsy was a bit hurt from his words, but knew it was for the best. Someone could have had suspicion of the two and they were seen with each other after this. The girl nodded, staying silent again.

She continued to think about everything that has happened from the moment she woke up. It was all too much for her. But she let out a small gasp when she thought about something else. More specifically, someone.

“Bang Chan.”

[quidfree]

prompts,.,, fem tdbk and a date gone very wrong ? ❤️

ohhhh my god anon. pump this shit directly into my veins i love this whole premise let’s go. also all inspired by whatever the fuck horikoshi was doing in this 

just so everyone is on the same page here, it is not a fucking date.

it’s lunch. a singular lunch. people do that shit all the time. even katsuki does lunch, sometimes. she went to that semi-shitty diner place with kirishima that one time when the food hall was shut because some dumbass first year exploded into goo or whatever. and todoroki does lunch, too- her and deku were on some shitty lunch date like a week ago, as evidenced by deku’s even shittier selfie of them having a grand old time doing whatever the fuck they do alone.

fuck, not a shitty lunch date. a shitty lunch. whatever.

the point is lunch is a normal non-date thing people do, and the fact katsuki and todoroki are maybe not the usual suspects for it is just circumstantial. it’s not like they planned it ahead of time, or made some big thing about it. they literally arranged for it in public, so obviously todoroki didn’t think there was anything weird about it. and there isn’t! they’re both going to be in tokyo on the same day, and todoroki’s always happy for any excuse to spend less time with her old man, and katsuki sure as fuck wouldn’t turn down an opportunity to avoid her hag of a birth-giver for a few blissful hours, so when todoroki had very nonchalantly gone ‘oh, bakugou, we could do lunch then”, it wasn’t like she had any real reason to tell her to go fuck herself. like, yeah, maybe a year ago, on principle, she would have, but even katsuki can only take so much trauma-bonding before she resigns herself to the reality that she’s stuck with half ‘n half for life, one way or another, and she may as well suck it up and approach civility because said moron is determined to ignore her open malice until she plays along anyways. they’re... you know, whatever. friends. or something. jesus.

the point being that it’s not a date, and the fact that she’s getting increasingly annoyed at her limited wardrobe is just because she would have packed more shit if the crone hadn’t insisted that they ‘pack light’ so they could get cheaper train tickets for less luggage. it’s just annoying that she can’t wear anything that’s not screaming holiday.

it occurs to her as she sits and scowls at her suitcase that her mother has been watching her from the doorframe for some undetermined amount of time, which is criminal mainly because she’s a goddamn hero-to-be and getting snuck up on by anyone is a blight upon her good name. she tries to disguise the ego damage dealt by glowering murderously in her progenitor’s direction.

“what the fuck do you want?”

“you know,” the she-devil says, cocking a hip, “if you want to borrow something nicer...”

“i wouldn’t be caught dead in your shitty clothes!” katsuki snarls, which prompts the witch to immediately scowl back.

“watch your damn mouth!”

“watch your waistline! no way in hell are we the same size!”

“why you little-”

the interruption at least reminds her that she is obsessing over her clothes ahead of meeting todoroki for lunch, which is so humiliating it kickstarts her brain again long enough to grab some normal shit and get the hell out of there.

on the walk she checks her phone again. the previous day she’d had to bite the bullet and make the first move, todoroki’s infamously terrible communication skills making themselves known once more, and their ensuing conversation had been so mortifying she’d nearly cancelled all-together.

to: Half ‘n half

Yo asshole are we still meeting tomorrow or what

I’m busy as shit

from: Half ‘n half

Yes. TS

to: Half ‘n half

What the fuck is TS

from: Half ‘n half

I was signing off.

to: Half ‘n half

SIGNING OFF ON YOUR OWN TEXT

YOU THINK I DONT KNOW YOUR DAMN NAME

from: Half ‘n half

[Pin attached]

Does here at 12.30 work for you?

to: Half ‘n half

Yeah whatever

Don’t be late

And don’t think I’m forgetting the fucking signing off thing

from: Half ‘n half

Glad you can make time for mockery in your busy as shit schedule.

the venue looks like some rich person shit, which she semi-expected, but it means a lot of people give her weird looks as she makes her way inside, probably on account of the shorts and t-shirt she’s wearing if not her general vibe. some old woman actually drags her purse to her, which makes katsuki sorely tempted to bare her teeth and maybe hiss for effect, though she settles for scowling and shoving her hands in her pockets. it’s 12.27, because she wasn’t going to be late but being any earlier would have given off some dubious impression that she’s eager to see todoroki, except now she kind of wishes she’d just come for 12.30 because if there’s some reservation bullshit she gets the feeling she’s going to start fighting with the waiting staff, and then-

“bakugou,” todoroki calls, from inside, raising a hand with unnecessary formality. “you made it.”

“course i made it,” katsuki grunts, absolutely not relieved as she by-passes the suspicious looking waiter to join her outside. “think i can’t ride the damn underground by myself?”

todoroki is wearing jeans cuffed at the ankles and a white t-shirt on top of which she’s thrown on an open button-up with the sleeves rolled up, and she looks casual and normal and incidentally kind of like they dressed to match, but the important part is that she doesn’t look dressed up at all, so katsuki was totally right about the non-date situation, and also isn’t the only one totally underdressed for the shitty venue.

“you look nice,” todoroki says then, completely shattering katsuki’s brief moment of reprieve. “i’ve never seen so much color on you.”

katsuki almost chokes on her own tongue, but the worst part is that the asshole seems completely nonchalant about the weird as shit observation, focused on her stool as she takes a seat on the balcony. which- what the actual fuck? since when does todoroki issue compliments unprompted- of the non-professional variety, at that? and what the fuck does she expect katsuki to say now- return the compliment? say thanks? is this whole thing some kind of exercise in psychological torture?

well, fuck it. she can’t look like a little bitch just because todoroki said something inanely positive. two can play that game.

“yeah. you look half decent yourself. did you hire someone to dress you for the occasion?”

todoroki blinks up at her in surprise, which is totally a win and would make her more smug if she could stop feeling so weird and prickly all over. for a dangerous moment todoroki seems on the verge of blushing, but miraculously the world rights itself and the usual deadpan persists, one brow quirking up in completely feigned ineptitude.

“there was a compliment somewhere in there, so thank you, i think. i thought we were past this vendetta.”

“we’ll be past this vendetta the day you burn your piece of shit hero suit,” katsuki retorts, back on familiar ground, and relaxes long enough to squint down at the menu.

this turns out to be a mistake.

“the fuck? is this whole thing in french?”

“oh,” todoroki says, after a beat. “that makes sense. i thought my english had deteriorated.”

“are you- you didn’t know? you recommended the place!”

“it was the nearest place to our hotel,” todoroki defends, now having the decency of looking slightly put out. “coq can’t mean what i think it means, can it?”

“that’s chicken, asshole,” katsuki hisses, flinging the menu down. “great, now we’re going to have to flag down one of the shithead waiters and ask for a japanese menu. excuse me! hey! yeah, i’m talking to- what the hell, did he just blow me off? hey, jackass! you with the shitty mustache!”

“sorry about that,” todoroki interjects, when mustache asshole turns an offended stare their way. “do you have the japanese menu?”

“we only serve the food in its authentic form,” mustachioed asshole says, with frigid self-satisfaction. “might i suggest google translate?”

“might i suggest my foot up your ass, you shitty-”

“that’s fine,” todoroki says, in a flat tone that implies otherwise. “we’ll make do.”

the waiter sniffs pretentiously as katsuki thinks about all the ways she could beat his ass into next tuesday, running an aggravated hand through her hair when the wind rustles it into her face. she’d half expect todoroki to suggest they fuck off elsewhere, but when she looks back her way she finds an ill-boding gleam of determination in her eyes despite the impassive set to her face, and it’s a testament to how fucked in the head ua has made katsuki that she feels a sort of sick thrill of recognition at the sight. todoroki’s in stubborn bitch mode.

“i’ll have this,” todoroki says, sure enough, pointing to the most expensive item on the menu. “and also this. and one of those.”

the waiter’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull, and todoroki looks unfazed in katsuki’s direction, tapping pointedly at a sleek black and red credit card in her wallet. “bakugou?”

well, if endeavour’s paying....

“sure,” katsuki says, slowly, and then turns her meanest smile the waiter’s way. “i want the frog legs.”

mustache clears his throat, attempts condescension. “we don’t serve that here.”

“you’re a gastronomique restaurant,” katsuki says very loudly, as other clients turn to stare, “and you don’t have fucking frog legs? is this a joke? does this napkin say authentic french cuisine or am i hallucinating?”

“i can ask the chef,” the waiter demurs, casting a nervous glance at the muttering snobs nearby, and attempts an ingratiating smile. “anything else for you, mademoiselle?”

“what did you just call me?”

once the ordering debacle is over, todoroki slants katsuki what may well be an apologetic glance, vaguely contrite frown sitting pretty atop her usual dead-eyed stare.

“i probably should have read up on the place ahead of time.”

katsuki is well within her rights to chew her head off, she thinks, but food’s on the way and she got to yell at the asshole who gave her the once-over when she came in, so she’s feeling forgiving, even in the face of todoroki’s annoyingly doll-faced apology. the bitch really has to do the bare minimum and she looks like a fucking kpop idol.

“yeah, whatever. i always knew you were a shitty ops planner.”

todoroki, who is an asshole, looks relieved at her generous forgiveness for all of a second before she quirks a brow. “between the two of us, i only count one person who has actually spoken the words ‘shoot first, ask questions later’.”

“that was in a training simulation,” katsuki protests, outraged. “and you know damn well the actors were annoying as shit!”

“i did find them slightly too committed to the role,” todoroki concedes neutrally, which totally means she agrees with katsuki 100% and is being precious about it. katsuki scoffs.

“least the view’s decent.”

“the-“ todoroki starts, in weirdly confused tones, until she follows katsuki’s gaze outward and nods in understanding. “oh, the skyline. yes.”

what else katsuki could have meant she doesn’t fucking know: they’re sitting pretty in the middle of tokyo. the only thing the hellhole of a restaurant has going for it at this point is the cityscape.

todoroki stares out into the distance for a good long moment, and with the breeze her negligently loose hair whips this way and that, red and white blur where the two halves mingle. instinctively katsuki itches to braid it flat so it doesn’t tangle. if todoroki asked her she’d tell her to just cut her damn hair into a bob or something- it’s not like icyhot has any attachment to her princess hair, and she’s got the obnoxious bone structure to pull off any length. not that she’d mention this last part. or that she’s given it much thought. it’s just fucking obvious.

if todoroki could keep her mouth shut throughout the rest of the meal, it could be sort of nice. tokyo skyline, and companionable silence, and presumably edible food. worse ways to kill some time, and way less incriminating than anything that may be said otherwise.

“i think this is the part where we make small talk,” todoroki says instead, sadist that she definitely is, as katsuki grimaces feelingly her way.

“no, we don’t.”

“well, we don’t. but this is the part where we should.”

“i don’t even believe you can last a minute of small talk, icyhot.”

todoroki looks pensive, mismatched eyes thoughtful. “...how has your day been?”

“uneventful,” katsuki says, combative, and eyes her watch. todoroki does not give.

“this place seems nice.”

“you don’t even think that.”

“how have you been finding tokyo?”

“noisy.”

“the weather seems-”

“no.”

“you look nice.”

“you said that already, dumbass,” katsuki grunts, palms crackling with sweat, and does not at all read into the way todoroki makes a stupid little movement with her mouth that could ungenerously be interpreted as a pout.

“well, i meant it, so i’m saying it twice.”

“give it up, half ‘n half, just ask me about training.”

“...how is your training?”

“i did this thing yesterday,” katsuki starts, leaning back in her chair, and from then launches into a very technical and barely exaggerated retelling of the batshit insane stunt she pulled off with her quirk the day prior. todoroki’s focused attention is gratifying, in a totally platonic non-weird way- it’s just that her parents couldn’t very well follow why exactly said stunt was as insane as it is, but todoroki obviously can, and also there’s that thing with todoroki where pulling a reaction out of her ice queen act is admittedly more satisfying than most people. it has jack shit to do with the fact katsuki’s got a very minor complex about todoroki paying her her dues, and even if it did then that’s entirely fucking reasonable considering she still hasn’t forgiven her for the sports fest incident. 

it is a little weird having todoroki’s sole focus on her outside of hero shit, though. it’s not like they really hang out one on one outside of school or work. it’s kind of- unnerving. yeah. unnerving, to be making prolonged eye contact, todoroki’s expression intent but not intense the way she gets in fight scenarios, frowning lightly because she has resting bitch face but apparently genuinely interested. it’s kind of a relief that todoroki asks questions- moves them safely into a conversation, so katsuki’s not just sitting there talking and sort of dry-throated. fucking waiter, leaving them water-less.

it’s fine. they talk about training, and quirks, and then todoroki pushes her hair behind her ears and leans forward to demonstrate on a small scale this thing she’s trying to do where she melts her ice and refreezes it in rapid succession so it causes what is essentially ice rain, but there’s logistics and shit that need to be worked out for it to work the way she’s thinking it might, and katsuki knows her thermal shit so they start scrawling maths over the napkins, and then bicker over the finer points of first year chemistry, so when the food actually arrives to interrupt them todoroki’s startled blink is weirdly relatable, like she also forgot where they were.

the waiter’s there and gone before they’re really recovered from the brief misplacement, which katsuki registers only when she looks down at her empty glass.

“goddamnit- how hard is it to bring us water?”

“they only offer sparkling,” todoroki says, gravely, then outpaces katsuki’s disgust by placing her hand over her glass, ice rising before she switches hands and melts it down. “tell me if the temperature’s off.”

intensely mollified and trying not to look it, katsuki sips it. “’s fine.”

“okay,” todoroki says, faintly pleased, and tilts her head to look down at her food. “i have no idea what any of this is.”

“moron,” katsuki snorts, except it comes out way fonder than it has any rights to, and from beneath the convenient curtain of hair todoroki’s smiling a little, so she hastily stabs a frog leg and gets to eating before anyone gets any ideas.

the actual meal goes okay-ish. most of the stuff todoroki ordered is extremely pretentious french cuisine, and todoroki secretly has the culinary adventurousness of a five year old, so it befalls katsuki to impatiently attempt every dish and pronounce it edible before todoroki will deign to brave it. she’s still trying to bully an unyielding todoroki into attempting the weird bird soup thing when there’s commotion nearby. it takes the both of them approximately three seconds to spring into work-mode; katsuki’s on her feet poised for a fight before she’s even consciously thought about it, scanning her peripherals, and she doesn’t even need to look to feel todoroki unconsciously covering her back, cool sting of air signalling her quirk at the ready. 

the commotion turns out just to be some old dumbass choking, relaxing them both out of their stances as she falls back to let todoroki ahead. they’re both uber-qualified for first aid shit, but she’s self-aware enough to know even todoroki’s bland reassurances are usually preferred to her bedside manner. unfortunately, the whole entourage seems to be braindead, because they’re all crowding the old guy in a panic while he chokes, his wife in shrieking hysterics.

“oh, my god, he’s choking! he’s choking! sugar-plum, stay with me!”

“fuck me,” katsuki mutters, unethically thinking that she would personally prefer choking to being married to someone who calls her sugar-plum, but todoroki’s pushing ahead with implacable calm, so she trudges after her anyways.

“excuse me. excuse me. i need access to your husband.”

“who are you? don’t touch him! help! get this woman off my husband!” wailing hysteric yells, bosom heaving dramatically. katsuki is starting to suspect she poisoned him on purpose or some shit, because no way does anyone talk like that in real life.

“she’s a fucking qualified first aid provider, lady, shut up and let her through!”

thankfully, the woman seems on the verge of an outrage aneurysm, which drags her focus away from suffocating her choking husband to dramatically pointing at katsuki long enough for todoroki to duck past her and reach the guy as he turns purple.

“how dare you speak to me that way? who do you think you are?”

“ma,” chinless moron number one says, clearing his throat. “i think that’s one of those future pros from TV.”

“what?”

“you know, ma,” chinless moron number two adds, glancing nervously between them. “the one that explodes things. you know. from UA.”

katsuki takes great pleasure in watching recognition dawn in the old cow’s beady eyes, but in any event there’s a hacking noise and then the old man’s coughing out a bone into his plate as todoroki steps noiselessly back from the table.

“he’s fine now. enjoy your dinner.”

“god, that was gross,” katsuki says, as they ignore the woman’s sputtering and return to their seats. todoroki tilts her head. 

“not really. if he’d thrown up it would have been.”

“not the choking guy,” katsuki scoffs, casting a glance back his way. “his wife. talk about theatrics.”

“she seemed more afraid of us than her husband dying.”

“for good reason,” katsuki mutters darkly, spreading out in her chair. “i hate civilians.”

“i don’t think she recognised us,” todoroki counters, pensive, and absent-mindedly takes a bite of the weird soup before she screws her face up like a betrayed kid. “oh. you didn’t say it was sweet.”

the look on her face thoroughly distracts katsuki from asking what other reason the pearl-clutcher could possibly have to be so terrified at the mere sight of them; instead, she chokes back a laugh, stifling a grin. “what are you, five?”

“i don’t think i like this,” todoroki says, mournful, which makes katsuki grin harder. she can’t help it- todoroki looking stupid is her kryptonite. 

“then don’t pick a restaurant where you can’t read the menu, next time.”

todoroki’s midway to looking up, but for some reason her expression transforms instantaneously, which makes katsuki reflexively try to quash her amusement. todoroki always gets weird when she’s smiling. 

“next time?”

motherfuck. obviously she didn’t mean next time like next time, she meant next time like- hypothetically, in the future, when todoroki’s on a lunch date with someone else. a lunch non-date. she’s just about stopped sputtering furiously long enough to try and express this sentiment when it occurs to her that todoroki seems- pleased, one eye soft sky-blue when katsuki accidentally meets it, and that draws her up short long enough that she ends up just muttering lamely to herself. fucking todoroki. 

on the heels of this utter embarrassment, she downs the rest of her water, scowls in a neat 180 at everything in sight, and wonders for the first time in her life how the fuck extras get through dates. not that this is one.

it’s fine. they’re done eating, and no one’s died, and katsuki is no longer fifteen and thus mostly trusts her ego to lick its wounds and recover from the ordeal. even if they stick around for desert that’s only another half hour of this to endure. as long as todoroki doesn’t make any sudden moves they’ll be fine.

...the problem is, of course, that sudden moves are todoroki’s modus operandi. katsuki has not forgotten the bitch calling them friends on national television in the same breath that she was vociferously denying them being anything of the sort. in todoroki’s fucked up brain, they’re always ten steps ahead of whatever they actually are- considering katsuki’s come around to privately acknowledging she’d take a couple more stakes through the gut for the asshole, in todoroki’s world they're practically hitched.

platonically. platonically practically hitched. this is not a thing, goddamnit. no matter the weird looks aizawa’s been giving them, or utsushimi’s nefarious schemes, or the alarming cardiopulmonary condition katsuki’s been developing of late. she’s not some shitty yuri protagonist pining over the nearest female bishōnen in her vicinity.

admittedly if she was to pine over anyone it sure as fuck wouldn’t be some guy, but that’s besides the point, since pretty damn near every person on earth is just some guy by her standards, regardless of gender. the fact that todoroki is not one of said people is entirely irrelevant.

her internal irritation is so distracting that she misses the tremors nearby until entirely too late, by which point todoroki’s stupidly perfect brows raise an incremental fraction and she goes: ‘oh’.

when todoroki goes ‘oh’, some shit is about to go down. 

katsuki turns slowly with an impending sense of doom, and sure enough, the sight that greets her is so nightmarish she seriously reconsiders whether the entire day has been just that. 

“don’t freak out,” a giant building-sized deku booms, apologetically, as his hideous giant face stares at them. “it’s just a quirk thing.”

it’s probably a good thing katsuki has gone speechless with outrage, since it permits todoroki’s constantly composed ass to ask useful questions katsuki probably would have coated in a fair amount more threats and cursing.

“midoriya. i didn’t know you were in tokyo.”

“well, i wasn’t meant to be,” deku says/booms like a foghorn, as the restaurant clientele shrieks and stampedes behind them. his sheepish expression is even more punchable when magnified. “it’s a long story. it’s almost sorted out now, though. i just saw you guys from over at the NPA office and thought i’d come ask if you maybe wouldn’t mind lending a hand? i wouldn’t ask but there’s going to be a lot of cleanup and your quirks would be really helpful to-”

“we’ll do it as long as you shut the fuck up,” katsuki yells, to cut him off, massaging her temples. “the monologuing’s bad enough when you’re not about to burst my fucking eardrums, jackass.”

“oh, sorry! i’m trying to be very quiet but this body’s just hard to get used to- thank you so much for helping, i didn’t mean to come bother you on break...”

“it’s fine,” todoroki says, and then seems to realise that her monotone doesn’t reach midoriya’s giant-ass ears and clears her throat, raising her voice to a shout. “it’s fine. let me go deal with the bill and then we’ll go.”

“sorry?” midoriya whisper-shouts, craning his monstrous head closer to them, the sight of which will haunt katsuki for the rest of her life. “i can’t hear what you’re saying!”

“she said she’s going to go pay for our nice fucking lunch,” katsuki hollers, with no small sense of satisfaction, as deku winces and todoroki slinks off. “since you want to come crashing it like a dipshit.”

“sorry, kacchan!” deku begs off, flapping hand gestures creating enough wind to knock over a nearby umbrella stand. “i just thought it would be a lot of help if you came to oversee the fall-out- especially with the building damage-”

“we’re good,” todoroki announces, to katsuki, apparently having given up on matching her in decibels. she’s got that classic hero look on her face, already in work mode, but just when katsuki’s about to do the same and jump into action, the look wavers a little and she frowns vaguely awkwardly. “thanks for doing lunch.”

“huh?” katsuki stutters, thrown, and then scowls at nothing in particular, stalling. todoroki’s the one who paid, albeit indirectly- it’s typically weird of her to be all formal about it all of a sudden, leaving katsuki to attempt to wriggle them out of the awkwardness of the moment. “i didn’t do shit except show up and eat, weirdo.”

“it’s been abnormally hard to show up and eat in the circumstances,” todoroki replies, a little wryly, and more concerningly a little resigned sounding. which is just unnatural, because todoroki may have expanded her range of emotions considerably since first year but resignation is not on her usual roster, and there’s nothing to be resigned about unless she had some kind of vested interest in this whole fiasco playing out any better than it did.

which she didn’t, obviously. katsuki’s been through this. she chose the nearest possible venue and rocked up in jeans and a t-shirt, and- and why is the fact that todoroki never dresses so normally out of class only now occurring to her, again?

she’d said ‘i think this is the part where we do small talk’. the part of what?

“yeah, whatever,” katsuki says, automatically, as her brain plays catch-up, which is the excuse she will forever stick to for what leaves her mouth next. “should have known you’d be a lousy date.”

todoroki goes ‘what?’ at the same moment deku does, ten times louder and more bug-eyed, which reminds katsuki that 1) deku is still there, 2) deku is still as big as his martyr complex, and 3) deku is the fucking worst, and allowing him to trap her into friendship is somehow responsible for this, she’s sure of it. 

“can we go handle this fucking mess or what?” katsuki snaps, instead of screaming or breaking deku’s very large nose or maybe self-immolating in abject humiliation, hands erupting into explosions as she jumps onto the balcony railing. maybe if she throws herself headfirst into the debris she’ll concuss herself and turn amnesiac. 

“um,” deku is saying, when she turns a withering glare his way. “um, yes! yes! yeah! let’s go do that!”

so she jumps skywards, explosions blasting her high into the air, and very scrupulously does not look towards the sounds of slick ice forming just behind her until todoroki skates into her peripheral vision, hair waving flag-like behind her. ahead there’s a building with a crater clean through it where deku must have erupted from, though when she turns to comment she finds him a fair deal behind them, lumbering pace slowed further as he avoids stepping on anyone or anything along the streets. instead her eyes lock on todoroki’s where the latter is staring at her, face unreadable, and she bristles hard enough to disrupt trajectory, correcting course rapidly before she plummets into an office.

“what?”

“i’m a lousy date,” todoroki repeats, neutrally, over the wind. katsuki grits her teeth.

“and what about it?”

she’s bracing for a lot, but not the horrible, sickening eye-crinkle thing todoroki does, dark eye twinkling even as her expression stays carefully impassive. “you think you can do better, then?”

“hah?”

“next time,” todoroki intones, very precisely, and then dips ahead like a complete coward as katsuki goes a color never previously visible to the human eye, sifting through about fifteen emotions before she decides to stick to outrage.

“what the hell? you suck at asking people out, icyhot!”

“you don’t have to say yes.”

“what, you think i can’t do better than this mess? you’re on, asshole.”

“i look forward to it,” todoroki says, gravely, and then there’s a collapsed building to handle and shit to do and if anyone wants to ask why katsuki is so especially gleeful in blowing shit up they wisely keep their mouths shut. she just likes the job, all right.

(for the record, it’s still not a date until katsuki says it is.)

[dailydaydreamings]

Best in the Worst Way, Part 9

For some reason I absolutely struggled to write this one. I have no idea why. I had such a good idea but nothing. I really wanted this one to have a sex scene too, I wrote it and it didn’t freaking save. So I’ve got nothing on that. It just means a better sex scene is to come ;)

Please enjoy, this gets pretty close to sex (mostly foreplay) and there’s some swearing and mentions of trauma. Oh, and chapter ten will be up tonight too.

The Reader has been having a love affair with two Avengers and gets caught in a sticky situation. She’s suddenly faced with life decisions she’s not prepared for, including who to love, what she wants, and is this all worth it?

The boys had been gone for almost three weeks. Everyday was a lesson in patrience, and you were failing, miserably. You’d probably be doing a much better job if you’d heard from either of them, but complete radio silence was all you got.

Natasha hung out in your office a lot, trying to keep you distracted. You regularly had dinner with Tony, Pepper, and Morgan three times so far. Everyone else seemed to be flocking to your office more frequently too.

Everyone knew who the babies fathers could be, of course. No one mentioned it, but how could they not when Steve and Bucky’s feud was common knowledge now. Mostly, though, you thought everyone just believed you had been sleeping around, not with both of them.

“Who’s having a baby?!” Carols voice carried through the building. You look up to see her standing, observing the betting pool outside your office. Apparently not everyone knew yet.

You laugh, standing up and smoothing you flowy dress over your bump. Her face was priceless as she came into plain view.

“No way!” She grinned.

“Surprise!” Nat said, standing from the seat in front of you, where she’d been planning your baby shower. Carol gave her a brief hug before coming around to give you one.

“I’m so shocked,” she said, holding you at arm’s length to look at you. “I mean, who’s the father?”

“Ooooh, that’s the question, it’s either Bucky and/or Steve,” Natasha chimed in, reaching for a cookie from your desk.

You cringed slightly.

Carol just blinked in surprise, “What do you mean or?”

You chuckled, “Well, you know, there’s two babies and —”

“Like this,” Natasha held up one hand with her index and thumb making an O and shoved two fingers from the other hand in repeatedly.

“I never told you that,” you pointed at her.

Carol just laughed, going to sit beside Natasha. “Are you being serious though? Like, both of them?”

You nodded, “I was sleeping with both of them.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, “At the exact same time?”

You pursed your lips, but you oils to help the cheeky smile creeping up on your lips. “Yes.”

Natasha threw her head back and laughed, “Okay but did you, you know, both of them...?” And she made the same crude gesture she made earlier.

“Oh my God Natasha! That’s so rude!” Carol exclaimed. But then she turned to you, propping her chin on her first and said, “You need to tell us now.”

“Do you really need to know?” You ask.

Carol and Natasha look at each other, and then looking back at you, said in unison, “Yes.”

You clicked your pen twice, “Not at first.”

They both cheered and your face flushed. You never imagined saying that out loud. God, seventeen weeks ago you’d never have thought of this moment.

Seventeen weeks ago

Sitting in Steve’s room, you picked up your phone to look for an automatic text from FRIDAY to tell you where the boys were. They were projected to be back from their mission any minute now.

And you were laying on the bed, naked, waiting for them and drinking a glass of wine (which was going straight to your head). You’d debated how to pose on the bed endlessly, opting to stretch across the white sheets on your side, fully facing the door. If anyone was in the hallway when they walked in, they would have a full view.

God, the waiting was making you fucking horny. The month and a half mission wasn’t helping anything. You new the boys would be ravenous when they walked in. Which only turned you on more.

The nights had been so long without them. It had been a while since you’d slept alone, definitely the longest without sex in almost a year. Whatever would ensue tonight would be worth the wait.

FRIDAY’s text told you they’d landed five minutes ago. You had dozens of messages from Stark, and they could wait until morning. You really didn’t give a fuck when your boys were about to walk in. Putting your phone back on the nightstand, you heard key pad beep as someone punched in the code.

Flicking your hair over your shoulder, you shamelessly displayed your entire body as the door opened. Steve’s face appeared, his eyes met yours and he swore.

He actually said, fuck! Before quickly closing the door, with him on the outside.

You frowned, concerned you’d done something wrong until you heard Steve say from the other side, “Sam, maybe now isn’t the time for a drink.”

You covered your mouth with your hand to keep your laughter in. Should you hide? It wouldn’t be the first time you’d almost been caught.

“Come on,” Sam’s voice could be heard clear as day from the other side of the door. You were so close from being caught and you were far too busy dying of laughter. “You just got back, we need to celebrate.”

“Look,” Steve said. “I’m really tired. Tomorrow, I promise.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” Ok, now you were debating hiding.

“Sam,” you could barely hear Bucky’s quiet voice, “it was a really tough mission, I really need to talk to Steve.”

“Oh!” Sam said, “yeah, of course, text me if you need anything.” No one fucked around when it came to Bucky’s mental health. You debated if you’d gone a little too far with your surprise, not knowing how the mission had gone until the door opened again.

Steve slipped in, trying the keep the door as shut as possible. Not suspicious at all. Then Bucky walked in, he took one look at you and whistled. Long and low as he shamelessly looked at you.

“Fuck Steve,” Bucky said, “how did we go a month without this one?”

You giggled slightly, especially as Steve sat down on the bed beside you and said, “I know. Sexy mink.”

You sat up until you were eye to eye with Steve and said in a husky voice, “Welcome back.”

He was in you a second later, his mouth fighting yours as he pushed you down onto the bed. There was no time for romance, he pined your arms over your head with one hand as he kissed your neck.

You threw your head back and moaned, your core tightening and toes curling.

He licked the inside of your ear and you nearly came right there just from that. Holy fuck, you weren’t sure if you said that aloud.

He was kissing you with so much passion you lost track of his other hand until you felt it...oh god, you felt it push apart your folds and find that spot.

Your entire body convulsed at the feeling. Fuck, you needed him inside you now.

“What a good girl,” you felt the bed shift as Bucky sat down beside your head. He was naked, a glass of wine in one hand, the other hand stroking his shaft as he watched Steve make you moan.

“Buck,” you started, but then Steve’s mouth moved down to your tits and sucked in a nipple. Your hands clenched to hold onto something but there was nothing.

Bucky put down the glass, laying across the bed behind your head, propped up on an elbow as he continued to stroke himself, “Does Steve make you feel good, baby?”

You would have answered but Steve shoved a finger inside you, his thumb doing circles over your clit. You settle for nodding vigorously as you humped his hand. Desperately.

Bucky leaned down until his mouth was level with your ear, and licked that spot behind it that made you squirm and your core tighten. “Use your words baby, or I’ll get Steve to stop and you’ll have to watch him blow me.”

That had happened once. Bucky had even tied your hands behind your back so you could only watch as Steve swallowed him whole, your core tightening painfully.

You struggled to keep your eyes open as Steve added another finger and you said, “He makes me feel so good.”

Bucky smiled, that sexy boyish smirk of his as he leaned down and kissed you, so slowly and gently, compared to the ruffness of Steve teeth on your chest.

Bucky kept eye contact with you as he said, “Steve, does she taste as good as she looks?”

Steve pulled his fingers from inside of you and you gasped in protest. You were so fucking close!

He put his index finger in his mouth and nodded, “You wanna taste?”

Bucky reached for Steve’s hand, dragging his eyes from you to look at Steve as he took his middle finger in his mouth. The three of you moaned, at the pure sexiness of Bucky, and also him tasting you apparently.

Bucky pulled away and looked down at you, captive on the bed below him, “You have two options, baby, Steve and I came up with them on mission while we were fantasizing about this moment. First, we can keep going like this. We’ve missed your taste and we want to make this about you and make you feel good. Or,” he leaned down and whispered in your ear, “you can take care of us.”

You really didn’t need to think, you sat up and said to him, “Get the lube.”

Bucky chuckled and did as he was told, and Steve rolled off you to lay down beside you. He stroked up and down your body slowly, from your clit, between your breasts, and down again. You squirmed, desperate now.

“I’ve really missed you guys,” you murmured, rolling over so you were facing Steve.

He smirked, a finger trailing over your slit, “I can tell, baby.”

You shivered, but still managed, “I’m serious. Did everything go okay over there?”

Steve propped his head up to look past you, where Bucky was definitely cursing in the bathroom about where the freaking lube was. Steve lowered his voice, “Buck had a really hard time. I don’t know how many more missions he’s got left.”

That was definitely a sobering thought. You propped yourself on your elbow to get a better look at him.

Steve was scared. Actually, terrified would be a better word for it. Your blood ran cold.

“What. Happened?” You demand.

Steve’s eyes darted behind you, and he murmured, “Later.”

Because Bucky walked in the room, rubbing lube on himself, saying, “You ready for us baby?”

You wanted nothing more than to sit the boys down and get to the bottom of what happened on this mission. In fact, the very next day you would. Because after multiple rounds of earth shattering sex, Steve would shake you awake while Bucky was in the shower and tell you that Bucky couldn’t focus on the mission. He missed some key piece of information and almost died. Stave almost died with him. If it hadn’t been for Sam, neither of them would have come home.

Bucky would break down and admit that he hadn’t slept more than two hours a night in weeks. He got away with it at the compound because he could nap, but missions were a different story. He couldn’t fake it on a mission.

He would tell you and Steve his nightmares were so, so much worse. And every time he walked around a blind corner his whole body went on red alert and a couple of times he’d pinned an intern into the wall thinking it was an enemy sneaking up on him. His mind was in constant overload and he was having trouble keeping story and reality separate. He was essentially, unraveling.

So, a new therapy protocol was initiated. Missions were postponed. Everything seemed to being going great.

Then, you found out you were pregnant and Steve left. Bucky still went to therapy twice a week, but his routine was totally disrupted. And it was bad on you for forgetting to ask him about his exercises and if everything was okay.

Because suddenly he was whisked away on a mission and it had been almost three weeks and you hadn’t heard anything. He and Steve still weren’t on good terms.

You were so, so terrified any day now you would hear that they’d died.

Tags

@booktease21 @sexyvixen7 @just-the-hiddles @fading-mentality-bouquet @a--1--1--3 @broco8 @yougottalovefandoms @hailqueenconquer @tazzi-baby @imaginebeinlovedbyme @amiets2 @prettyblueskylark

[setsuntamew]

So, Persona 5 Royal, huh?

Full disclosure: I had gotten about halfway through November on Wednesday and finished it out Saturday night, which took uhhh about 65-70 hours? Some of that was sitting there waiting for the PS4 controller to recharge or listening to music in the Thieves Den while eating, but I still feel like I need to own up to how extremely bad I am at making good decisions with my life XD

MOVING ON, THOUGH, HOLY SHIT. P5 was a very good game, but Royal’s additions & changes made it incredible. I like the ending way more; I think it’s more emotionally fulfilling and meaningful, especially with everyone’s more defined future plans. Definitely felt like everyone had more growth in the end!! Which is something I’d always thought P5 was lacking.

Snip snip for spoilers and the fact that this post ended up being too damn long, oops! the last third is basically Akechi feels and analyzing his ending, so......yeah XD

Part of why I plowed through SO much of Royal in so little time is....Akechi XD Like okay, this is my stupid fandom blog, I can be excited about him all I want!!! I got to Sae’s Palace and just....I couldn’t put it down. @dragonofeternal​ and I ordered an embarrassing amount of takeout instead of cooking because we just had to see how everything with Maruki and the third semester was gonna go down. I’d already been dying along the way because Akechi’s confidant dates are so good, I just. Fuck!!!

Also, look, for the entirity of Shido’s boss fight and the depths of Mementos/Yaldabaoth/etc, we’d look at each other every few minutes and just be like AKECHI SHOULD BE HERE WITH US, HE DESERVES TO GET HIS VENGEANCE ON HIS SHITTY DAD AND FORCED DESTINY!!!!!

December 24th had to be the longest god damn day in Akira’s life because like. Final exam grades are posted in the morning! He goes to school and then dives into hell, crawls his way back out, briefly dies by fading from human cognition, fights an actual fucking god, and then....ends up dissociating in Shibuya until Sae shows up and is like “oh hey thanks for everything you did, please sign up for being arrested now.” And while he’s still reeling from that, Akechi walks up to take his place, like some kind of bullshit knight in shining armor schtick, and leaves no room for conversation.

AND THEN WE HAVE TO GO ON A DATE

I romanced Hifumi this time around, because I wanted Akria to bang a girl who is just so incredibly out of his league, but....it’s not necessarily that I forgot I was dating someone, more that it had been *so many hours of plot* that I was emotionally exhausted. Like, Hifumi texted me and I was just like. Right. RIGHT. It’s still Christmas Eve, somehow. I was at *school* this morning. The whole world merged with Mementos briefly in the middle of this, Akechi is somehow alive, and I guess I’m going on a date now????

I do appreciate how many “god I’m just dissociating my way through this” conversation options there were for the date, tbh. I feel bad though, I really like Hifumi, but I feel like Akira is not giving a date his full emotional attention at that specific time. It feels a bit like emotional whiplash, more so than I remember it being in P5? Maybe it’s because I played it 4 years ago and there wasn’t the added emotional weight of Akechi’s reappearance, but it was just like....a lot, in Royal.

AND THEN THE NEW YEAR HAPPENED. I’d been spoiled on large parts of the third semester, mostly because Royal’s been out for a year already and I’m too curious for my own good. I’d also somehow lied to myself, saying I didn’t have time to play another Persona game right now, and yet here I am, 171 hours of game play within exactly a month, kicking myself for not knowing how deep in Persona hell I would get XD

Which is to say, as soon as the new year started, it felt I was drowning in anxiety. I knew something was wrong, I knew they were in a false reality, but knowing that sure as fuck didn’t make it easier to go through. If anything, it was somehow worse, knowing that it was all gonna come crumbling down, but I didn’t yet know the exact details, only the broad strokes of it. Just. Every time someone talked about something that was wrong, my heart would clench.

God, I’m so fucking tired, I pulled an all-nighter on Friday so I could get through Royal before having to work on Sunday, and I am feeling it right now. Life tips: don’t do what I do XD

Every moment with Akechi felt like borrowed time, at least for me, because I knew what was coming. I spent so much time in Mementos with him; I ended up putting just him and Akira in my party and plowing through everything, including trouncing the Reaper over and over just for the hell of it. I got his ultimate weapons, I spent so many nights in the jazz club with him that he ran out of dialogue options, and I still took him back for more. I accidentally failed to EVER trigger Sumire’s Showtime because every fight was just Akira and Akechi against the world, because fuck it, I’m playing this for fun!! If I want to play with them in stupid costumes and no one else in the party, I’m gonna. Royal did such an incredible job giving Akechi more depth and development: it was all I could hope for, and it made it that much fucking worse to know what was in store for him.

Somehow, I thought it would be harder for me to make the decision to refuse Maruki’s deal, since fuck, fuck what I wouldn’t give for Akechi to be alive???? But I barely hesitated, only really stopping because I had to emotionally brace myself for it, because a reality where he can’t carve out his own fate would be a disrespect to everything their relationship is built on.

I have a whole shit ton of feelings about post-beating Maruki but they’re basically all Akechi related meta so somehow they ended up at the end of this post, I’m sorry XD

I understand that they had to keep the going to jail bit because 1) Akechi didn’t turn himself in, Akira did and 2) it leads to the final events of the game, but let me just say....the emotional roller coaster of fighting Maruki, almost failing multiple times, waking up in jail, the Phantom Thieves & friends getting Akira out of jail, celebrating that, and then getting thrown into Valentines Day was a LOT for my heart to take. Once again, didn’t forget I had a girlfriend, just got too invested in the plot to really be thinking about her. It’s less than two weeks after the fight with Maruki and somehow, everything is supposed to be okay????

The scene with everyone talking about their future plans is such good character growth, though. Everyone feels like they’ve truly grown and are making decisions that, even though they might be painful or hard at times, are ultimately very important to them. It’s a really good contrast to the “almost everyone goes to Shujin and they all stay in Tokyo forever without doing anything for themselves” Maruki’s perfect reality bad end.

Standing in the Underground Mall on White Day, being told I had to get flowers but finally being able to have control of Akira again was....so bittersweet. The fact that the location of the date is the aquarium is a low fucking blow, and I almost threw the controller across the room I was so upset. Like. THE AQUARIUM IS UNLOCKED BECAUSE AKECHI HAS TICKETS HOW FUCKING DARE SOJIRO SUGGEST IT LIKE MY HEART ISN’T STILL ACHING????? God, speaking of that: The fucking god damn Featherman video game tore my heart out because I ended up playing it WHILE WORKING ON SHIDO’S PALACE and I cried a ton about Gray Pigeon because of course they had to dig the emotional knife in even deeper!! Just fuck me up, it’s fine, I’m just dying!!!!!!!!!!!!

I ended up scrolling through his texts to find the group chats that still had Akechi in them, and fuck, it was a LOT. Like. Maybe it’s because I’m too invested in the two of them, but it was probably the worst emotional whiplash of the whole game. Like, how am I supposed to go play happy with anyone while staring at texts from a reality built of lies? It wasn’t real but the proof lives on in his phone and his heart, and I’m still fucked up over it.

HOWEVER. FUCKING. I SPENT LIKE HALF AN HOUR BEING EMOTIONALLY COMPROMISED ABOUT ALL THIS AND THEN DISCOVERED THE BASTARD STILL HAD ALL HIS EQUIPMENT, INCLUDING THE ULTIMATE MALE ARMOR!!! He returned his shit after Sae’s Palace even though he thought Akira was dead, but this time it didn’t get fucking returned to my inventory, so he must have fucking run off with all his shit!!!!!!! Why the hell did none of it get returned if he was never alive in the true reality? Like I know it'll be returned for a new game+ but I like to nitpick game mechanics for story reasons, because one of the things I love most about video games is the experience of them as another layer to the story. The texts from the third semester shouldn’t exist anymore, since they never really existed, but there they are. Akechi insisted that he has a gap in his memory after Shido’s Palace up until seeing Akira on Christmas Eve, but who can say that wasn’t related to Maruki tampering with reality or some other Persona-related reason?

I mean. I got the full and complete True Ending; I saw him in the train station. If that’s not Akechi, then who the fuck is it? Atlus made sure to put the work in to make him a part of not just the main story but also, especially, the third semester, and for what....to have his final time on screen be as the butt of the joke, squished underneath everyone in the Mona-copter? As much as it hurts, his end in Shido’s Palace matters; it fits his character and he gets to go out fighting- carving his own path, really. In Royal, barring the tiny glimpse of someone who’s probably him in the train station, the last we see of him is when he watches Joker let go of the rope to finish off Maruki. I know we got the heart to heart where Akira agrees to reject Maruki’s deal and Akechi insists that he’d rather be dead than live in a false reality, but.....no one even says goodbye to him. It’s tragic, it’s painfully lonely, but it doesn’t feel right for such a major character.

Also, as undignified as it is, for the first time ever, Akechi looks like he actually belongs in the Phantom Thieves in that final moment. He’s never been the butt of their jokes before; they always kept him at arms’ reach and he took himself too seriously to be included, but for that brief moment, it really felt like he was part of their group. He stopped lying about himself for their last month together, and so even if they don’t all like him, they can make that decision based on the truth, instead of layers of lies. His death is all the more tragic for this; a life cut short just when he’s finally finding a place he belongs. But his death was already painful; why make it so, so much worse?

Final thing: I’m gonna be spending a ton of time in the Thieves Den trying to find Akechi’s opinions on everything, but also....hey. HEY. What do those six stars that Jose (probably?) painted on the wall mean? Is it just a reference to Persona 6???? LIKE????? I HAVE QUESTIONS. SO, SO MANY QUESTIONS!!!!

Anyway, I’ve gotta go cry into my Starbucks and desperately try to focus on actually doing my job at work, but I loved Royal deeply and cannot wait to drown in it ;w;

[imagine-that-one-thing]

Styles. || 15

Authors Note:  Hey everyone!! I know it has been a while since I have updated, but I wanted to pop in and say hi, I am back. I intend to do my best to start writing again and to start where I left off at. I have missed Elise and Harry’s story so much, but I needed the break. With that being said, I am back and doing my best to get back to writing their story. Bare with me as it has always been hard for me to end stories, hence why this one is still kicking. I have a strong connection with the story and I just want to keep writing, so here I am. I hope you all love their story as much as I do. Anyway, I hope you are all well and continue to read my work. xx 

For previous chapters, click HERE.

First. Book : Styles and Co

Second Book : Styles’ Towers. 

Third Book : The Rise Of Glory.

Styles & Co. || Extras.

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Wouldn’t It Be nice.

My apartment is quiet as I type away at my laptop, attempting to stay focused on my essay with a pounding headache. I have hardly slept the last few nights, and I have been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. Balancing school and work have proven to be extremely troublesome, but I do not regret my decision one bit to take up Jamie’s proposal. I am incredibly appreciative of the opportunity, even if I manage to get an hour or so of sleep a night.

I landed Jamie the clients and completed the meetings as requested, and successfully redesigned one of the portfolios— it has all been worth it. It will one day pay off to only sleep a few hours.

I massage my temples before the sound of my apartment door opening takes my attention. I turn around immediately, almost plummeting to my feet before nonchalantly recognising it’s Elise and not my worst nightmare. Ever since my father appeared at my apartment that one night, I have been on edge, not to mention I also don’t want Logan coming to my apartment. “Hey,” I half-smile towards her as she closes the door behind her and propels me the apartment keys.

I catch the keys in my hands, “Good to know you’re alive, Harry,” Elise’s commentary takes me by surprise as I kiss her cheek, and she moves away from me.

She’s exasperated.

“What do you mean? What’s wrong?” I immediately challenge, “What’s with handing me the keys?” I dangle the keys in my hand.

Elise raises her brow and crosses her arms over her chest, “What’s wrong?” Elise scoffs, “Harry, you haven’t spoken to me in two weeks, not sure if we are even together.”

“What? Sweetheart, I called you the other night before I fell asleep.”

Elise shakes her head, “You haven’t called. I got a text from you, but it said my name, and that was all,” Elise responds, showing me her phone, proving that she is, in fact, correct.

Fuckity-fuck-fuck.

“Oh,” I trail off, feeling like a horrible person… “I’m so sorry.”

And the award for worst boyfriend, once again, goes to me. How wonderful. At this point, I may as well keep an honorary speech on hand. Damnit.

“Harry… if you don’t want to be with me—“

“Darling,” I begin, “I thought I called you the other night… I swear I even texted you today when I woke up,” I assure her, clutching my phone from my table and clicking her messages.

The messages are somewhere here. I know there’s some sort of logical explanation. I remember distinctly. I texted her.

My heart drops, and I shake my head, dissatisfied with myself, “I uh… I never hit send… I never realised that the texts I did send never delivered,” I show her my screen of undelivered text messages and a message from this morning I never sent. “I look like an ass.”

Elise snickers and nods her head, “What else is new?” She jokes, and I can’t help but playfully roll my eyes and grin at her. However, she may be joking; deep down, she and I both know that there’s some truth to the joking matter. I’m an ass, and I can openly admit it.

“I know it is no excuse, but I’m dead tired and busy. I wasn’t trying to blow you off or forget you. I genuinely thought I had called and texted you… Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“You still want to be with me?”

“I’m sorry you even doubt my intentions. Of course, I do. Not sure you feel the same about me.”

It has never been my intentions for her to have to doubt whether I want to be with her. I want to be with her, one-hundred and ten per cent. She’s the woman I aspire to spend my time with. It’s too early to say this, but I want to spend my life with her. We aren’t ready for marriage, but she is the one I want to come home to every night. She’s the one with who I want to grow and build a life.

“I know you’re tired and swamped, but I did feel like you didn’t want to be with me,” Elise confesses.

I nod my head, considering her feelings and how I may have made it seem like I don’t give a damn. “That’s me just being an ass who is struggling to get everything done. Can I make it up to you?”

“How?” Elise demands.

I can imagine she is tired of hearing whether I can make it up to her. I’m tired of hearing it, too. I sound like a broken record, which isn’t my intent, but I am doing my best. My best isn’t good enough, and I know this, but I will do better. I will do what it takes to make her feel valued. I don’t want her ever to have to question my intentions or love for her.

“Stay the night with me. I’ll go to work and come back at around eight before you have to be up. I’ll bring coffee and breakfast… if you like?” I suggest, unsure of how to make things up to her. Dinner and flowers are too cliche, and I have already promised her that. Right now, all I can do is breakfast, and I physically don’t have time for anything else until the weekend.

Elise nods her head and agrees, “Can you maybe try to remember that I’d like a text or a call, so I know you’re alive?”

“I’ll do my best. I’m sorry, baby, I am,” I step closer and kiss her cheek before giving her a warm hug.

I need to make it up to her, and I need to show her I care and want to be with her. She deserves better than a boyfriend who forgets to press send on a text message. It may not be a big deal to some, it was a genuine mistake, but I feel horrible for not realising I hadn’t spoken to Elise. I feel as though I neglected my duties as a boyfriend to make sure she is okay and feel valued and wanted. It is the small things that can make a difference in a relationship.

Elise hasn’t asked for much; she wants my time and effort, which I will give her to the best of my ability.

❈ ❈ ❈

I feel a tender touch to my shoulders, and I draw myself away from my sleeping state. I open my eyes and groggily glance around. Fuck, I fell asleep on my laptop. “You fell asleep,” Elle informs me, her hand massaging soothing circles on my back.

I nod my head and sigh. I touch my fingers to my temple and rub them slowly, “I have the worst headache, and this is due in an hour,” I gesture towards my computer screen that is only making my headache graver.

“Would you like me to finish it for you?” Elise kindly offers.

“Do you even know what I am writing about?” The words leave my lips without me thinking twice about how they sound.

“Don’t be a condescending ass, Harry,” Elise mutters.

I heavily sigh and nod my head, “I’m sorry. Do you know about this,” I motion towards my laptop that has my composition mostly completed? I am not sure if I am nearly finished or not.

“Harry, I can use the literature as a framework to sum up your essay, unless you don’t trust I have the intelligence to do so?” Elise answers, annoyed with me still.

I do not blame her for being irritated with me, After all, I have unintentionally blown her off, and now I am making her believe she is not intelligent, which was not my purposes. I know she is brilliant. She may not be as into the business world as I am, but she is one hell of a writer. Elise is excellent with essays and literature. “And don’t forget, I have to take business, so I do know the basics,” Elise notifies me, and I bow my head.

“Again, I am sorry, Elle,” I apologise, “Be my guest, have at it,” I move my chair, and Elise rests beside me, immediately beginning to read what I have written.

“For someone who is great at business, you have a lot of errors,” Elisse chuckles, nudging me lightly. I nod my head and hum.

“Business major, not an English major, also wrote that with a headache and no sleep,” I mumble before I rest my arms on the desk and place my head to lean in my arms, closing my eyes and falling in and out of sleep while Elise types away. “Harry,” Elise taps me.

I hum my acknowledgement, “Hey, what is the main conclusion you want to be emphasised?”

“Baby, I don’t care,” I murmur tiredly, “Just write whatever sounds good, just don’t fail me,” I continue.

“Great, so I will conclude on valuation and whether to rely on an algorithm or on an ad-hoc analysis,” Elise confirms.

“Sounds good,” I admit, grappling with concentrating, my eyes stinging and my head spinning. “I trust you, darling,” I drowsily mumble, prompting to rest my head on her shoulder, closing my eyes again and drifting off to sleep.

❈

It isn’t long before I am woken, and it feels like only moments have passed where I was put at ease and managed to get a few moments of relaxation. “Hey, Harry, hey, sweetheart,” Elise gradually and benevolently tears me from my sleep, and I lift my head off her shoulder, brushing my eyes as I attempt to focus on her. “It’s done; you need to just go to bed.”

I groggily come to terms with my surroundings, regarding that Elise has finished my paper, “What time is it? I still have work to do,” I shake my head, remembering the collection of work I need to finish. I need to establish a fundamental algorithm for one of my clients, and I still need to figure out a way to balance Elise’s sister’s portfolio that was due the weekend of her wedding. Still, Jamie put it on hold due to her antics and marriage. With Elouise getting married, there is a chance she could venture to combine assets with her husband, but if he is intelligent, he won’t let her encounter any of his assets. I would not combine anything with her. There is a time and a place to consolidate things, and a new marriage is not the time. They have not established boundaries, nor have they demonstrated the true meaning behind the wedding. I think Elouisa married for money, point-blank.

“It’s one, and we are going to bed. You’re not working yourself to death,” Elise informs me, closing down my emails and shutting my laptop.

“Elle, I have to send it and —“

“I already sent it. You owe me, by the way,” Elise smiles, standing up from her position and taking my hand, dragging me with her.

Elise and I wander towards the hallway, “Add it to my tab,” I chuckle, “Tell ya what… I’ll get breakfast in the morning, and this weekend I’ll take you to a nice dinner,” I inform Elise, aware that she deserves more than what I’ve given her lately. I’m not sure how she hasn’t thrown in the towel and told me to go fuck myself.

“That would be nice,” Elise accepts as we step into my bedroom, and I waste no time taking my shirt off and launching it to the corner. This is the earliest I have managed to crawl into bed, and if it weren’t for Elise, I’d still be awake, perching at my computer and making my headache ten times worse.

“Thank you for finishing my paper,” I grasp a t-shirt from my drawer while Elise draws back the covers of my bed, “I appreciate it,” I assure Elise, handing her a t-shirt for her to wear to bed.

“Ignore me again for a week or two, and I won’t be so nice,” Elise responds, taking the shirt from my hands. I nod my head, and I don’t expect her to be friendly and forgiving when I fuck up and act like an arse. I need to be held accountable. Elise leans up and kisses my cheek before caressing her hands to my chest, “You’re hot.”

“Thanks, but I’m not in the mood for compliments.”

“Moron,” Elise rolls her eyes, “You’re warm,” she caresses her hands to my cheeks, “Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Mhm,” I hum, “I get migraines after a long period with little sleep,” I shrug my shoulders, not too concerned about things, “It happens like once every few months.”

“Has it ever occurred to you to sleep?” Elise challenges with a touch of sass to her tone of voice.

Sleep would be delightful, but I have too much on my plate.

“It has,” I laugh, “But I don’t have enough time for that.”

“How are you not miserable right now?”

“I am,” I respond, “I just know I have to deal with it. Are we going to continue talking about my lack of sleep and terrible migraine, or are we going to sleep for a few hours?” I question, moving to my side of the bed and crawling between my sheets.

In all fairness, I am miserable. I feel like utter shit, my head is pounding, any sort of light burns my eyes, and it feels like I’m just being clobbered with a club.

“A few hours?” Elise seems surprised at my comment.

I only have a few hours to spare, nothing more, nothing less.

I nod my head, “I have work at six, so yes, a few hours.”

“Surely you’re not getting up?”

“I have to, Elle,” I sigh, “I can’t afford not to.”

In all honesty, I don’t want to get up in a few hours, I’d love nothing more than to sleep in and allow my migraine time to dwindle off, but I can’t. The world doesn’t stop because I’m unwell or for any reason. My mother’s bills still necessitate to be paid, meetings still need to take session, and my school work still needs attending. I don’t get sick days. I don’t get to sleep in. It’s nothing against Elise, but I’m not lucky enough to get to have a few additional hours of sleep as she can.

“You’re wearing yourself too thin.”

“I have to.”

“Can’t I help?”

“You have; you finished my paper for me. That’s more than enough.” I smile towards Elise, kissing her, sweetly, “Thank you for your help.” I kiss her again before stepping away and moving to my side of the bed.

It is not Elise’s responsibility to help my situations. These are my problems to deal with, and she has enough to worry about on her own. I do not wish to burden her with my issues, nor do I wish for her to have to deal with anything more than she already needs to. I don’t want to scare her away, and I don’t want to risk letting her help me and then leaving me because it is too much to handle. I can handle things on my own… I think.

❈ ❈ ❈

The drive to Elise’s parent’s house has been nothing but full of anxiety. I have no reason to be anxious, but I am. I haven’t stepped foot back in the house since the weekend I met her parents. Ever since, I have kept all meetings with the parents in public places. The gates to the private estate open, and I drive up the driveway, parking next to Elise’s car before turning my car off. I sit in the driver’s seat, taking a deep breath as I take in my surroundings. One day I will be able to afford such an extravagant house like this, but for now, I will settle with my tiny apartment and non-glamorous lifestyle.

I get out of my car and close the door. I make the short walk along the perfect cobble pathway towards the door. Everything about the estate is immaculate, from the gardens to how the Autumn door wreath sits flawlessly aligned. Although the leaves are shifting to magma-reds, hot-oranges and fever-yellows, not a single leaf is on the ground— the groundskeeper but be astonishing at his job. The barbecue-red leaves hang soundlessly on the trees, and I can't help but glance up and watch in awe, curious as to whether one will fall and wreck the pure aesthetic the Cartier’s have going on. I shake my head and chuckle to myself before walking up the steps. I stand before the double doors and adjust my shirt, making sure my collar is suitable, and my shirt is not creased. I take a breath and knock on the door.

After a few moments, the door opens, “Well, it’s about time you show up,” Conrad, Elise’s dad, comments with a grin, “I thought you were bringing the liquor?” Conrad questions as he opens the door wider and allows me to step into the house.

I shake his hand, “Hello, and no sir, I did not bring the liquor. Next time I will bring you a bottle,” I respond as we shake hands.

I was unaware that it was now customary for me to bring liquor. I shall be prepared for next time. Hopefully, this time, I will not feel as though I do not belong here or that I am not good enough for Elise. Although our last gathering at the house was far from what I had hoped, ever since that day, her parent’s and I have gotten closer and gotten along. Conrad has realised I am not here for the money, and I do not want any special treatment in the business world. I want to make it on my own with my name, not theirs.

“Elise is at the kitchen table, finishing another essay.”

“She has had quite a few to do,” I nod my head.

“While she finishes, care to have a drink with me?”

“Uh, sure,” I agree, following Conrad into the living room and standing by him as he picks up his decanter set and begins to pour a glass.

“Question for you… Would you consider working for me?”

I shake my head, “All due respect, no. You’re my girlfriend's father, and I do not want to make things awkward. I am also quite happy at Jamie’s company.”

“Damnit, Jamie got a good one. Okay, fair… Well, I would like to have lunch with you and talk business one day this week, just to get to know you more.”

“I can do Thursday?” I suggest, “I leave Thursday night to travel with Jamie.”

“I guess that will do,” Conrad nods his head, “Where are you going?”

“We are going to LA.”

“My brother and I need to talk more. I am leaving for LA next week. We could have tag-teamed clients.”

I chuckle and shrug, “That is between the two of you. Do you not worry about competing with each other for clients?”

“No, we have boundaries.” Conrad shakes his head just as Elise wanders in and welcomes me.

She kisses my cheek and beams towards her father, taking a prompt sip of my drink before asking us about our conversation, and of course, rolling her eyes at me when she is told we are discussing business.

❈ ❈ ❈

After a brief moment at Elise’s parent’s house, I was enlightened that we would be setting sail on the River Thames. I had no idea that today's adventures entailed such a journey. I was under the impression it would be a relaxing day at the house— I was mistaken. I did not anticipate spending part of the day on a yacht. I did not know Conrad owned a yacht.

I knew Elise’s family was wealthy, but I did not think they were this prosperous. Elise doesn’t show nor act that she has a very elite lifestyle. She never once mentioned that her father had a yacht. It makes me wonder what the fuck else they have that I have no clue about. After all, Elise has an investment that is almost worth a million dollars— and somehow, she is still asking me for investment help and assistance with the stock market.

“Harry,” Conrad begins as he hands me a glass of some sort of alcohol, “I believe I owe you an apology,” Elise’s Dad begins, taking me by surprise.

I look at him and nod, waiting for him to give me some sort of explanation. I am not sure what he owes me an apology on, but I am willing to listen to him. “I didn’t give you a fair chance when I first met you months ago. I thought you were hanging around for a business opportunity. I know that way of thinking was wrong. I should not have assumed.”

I don’t blame Conrad for not being open to his daughter dating someone who does not come from the same upbringing as she did. I didn’t have a gorgeous house with perfect gardens. I didn’t have the luxuries she had and still has; I grew up with everything I needed and not much more. My mother couldn’t afford luxuries, and she still can’t. One day, I do hope to give my mother the amenities she deserves. I want to be able to fix her house up the way she wants it and buy her a nice car that she doesn’t need to worry about, whether it will break down on her drive to the grocery store. I didn’t grow up anywhere near close to the same lifestyle as Elise, so I understand the judgement on Conrads end. Every father wants the best for their daughter, and I might not have much money or much to offer her materialistically, but I can give her my time and love— I personally think that is better than anything anyone could buy her. One day, I will buy Elise the things she deserves. One day I will buy her the bracelets and the necklaces, all the things women love to receive. But for now, all I can offer Elise is my devoted time and love.

I accept Conrad's apology, “Sir, I want nothing more than to give her all the great things she is used to, but for now… All I have is myself. I can’t give her expensive dinners and diamonds. I can barely get her flowers, I will be honest, but I can give her my time, effort, and love. I care for your daughter a lot… To be honest, I am in love with her,” I begin to speak sentences before thinking about them. Part of me wants to stop sounding so soft, but the other part knows that Conrad needs to know my true intentions with Elise, “I may never be able to afford a yacht like this,” I gesture to the space around us, “And I may be dirt poor, but I will never be the man my father was, and believe me, that means more to me than anything materialistic I could give her. She will never have to worry about whether I love her. She will never have to worry about where her next meal will come from or whether she will be alone… I will put her first, I will put her before myself, and I will treat her the way a lady should be treated.”

Being a man and being the complete opposite of my father is what I strive for in life, aside from being a CEO. I have learnt what a man is and what a man is not. I have learnt the difference between a deadbeat husband and a real husband. I will not be the man my father was; I will worship the ground Elise walks on, and I will do everything in my power to make sure she is taken care of in every way. Like I have said, I might not ever get to give her mansion with the most beautiful art hung on the walls she could imagine, but she will know that every time I walk through that door, that I am coming home to her. Elise knows that I am the one she can call at any hour with any problem, I will always be there for her, and I will support her in all her decisions. I am aware that we may fight and argue over stupid shit. Hell, we will even fight over things that aren’t stupid, but I wouldn’t want to fight with anyone else at the end of the day. We will have our moments where we want to strangle each other. I know the time is coming, and I know there will be times she won’t want to speak to me or times where I have fucked up, but that is the beauty of a relationship— you grow together, and you learn.

I don’t plan to give up when the going is tough. I will not leave her in the dark and call it quits because things might not get any easier for us financially. I may run from many things when it gets tough, I may bury myself in work in school when I don’t want to deal with personal issues, but I will do my best not to run from her— from us.

“You don’t speak of your father. May I ask why?”

I grow withdrawn for a moment, unsure of what to say. I have managed to avoid my father’s issue for most of the relationship with Elise, but I know at some point I will have to tell her a few things. I would much prefer to discuss how Conrad succeeded in his business to the point he owns a yacht and can sail on the River Thames with a skipper and crew. I wonder if he even bought the dock as well that he docks at. I shake my thoughts away, remembering I have been asked a question about my father. “He isn’t in my life.”

“You mentioned that,” Conrad nods.

“My father is not what I would call a man. He is just someone who is a waste of space in society.”

“That’s a bit harsh, Harry.”

I lift my shoulders into a shrug, “All due respect, but that is nothing compared to the things he has done and said to my sister and myself,” I respond, not trying to sound like a prick. I don’t like having conversations about my Father. He is not worth my time or energy. I should have just told them the has is dead. In all fairness, he is dead to me. “He was an alcoholic. I don’t like to get in detail about him.”

Conrad nods his head and respects my decision of not wanting to speak much of my father. Conrad takes a sip of his drink, and I finally do the same, allowing the whiskey to give me a sense of ease. “Elise told me that you had been the one paying to keep your mother’s house?”

I nod my head, “Yes, sir… Mum lost her job and my sister…. Well, she is going through an emotional breakdown and struggling herself,” I admit, unsure of how much detail Elise has told her parents.

“I have a lot of respect for you, Harry.”

“Why?” I curiously ask.

Conrad leans forward and places his drink down at the table, “You are helping your mother and working night and day plus doing your masters, and you have not complained once.”

“I think I have complained,” I shake my head.

“Elise has said otherwise. You’re a genuine and modest gentleman, and you seem to put others first… I respect a man who can do his best to provide and not make excuses.”

I am not sure what to say. If I didn’t go to work and do what I do, my mother and sister would be on the streets. Someone had to step up and do what needed to be done. I would never forgive myself if my mother lost her house. The house may be small in comparison to what Conrad has, but it is still a home. It is the place my sister and I grew up in. It is the place my mother worked hard to maintain to the best of her ability. “I’d do it all over again if I had to,” I shrug, not really in the mindset that this is something that I should be praised for. I don’t need praise for stepping up. I just want my family to be happy and healthy.

“You’re a good man. I see that,” Conrad nods, finally cracking a small smile, “I don’t think I would want my daughter dating anyone else.”

I stifle a laugh and shake my head, “Give it time. I am sure Elise will tell you I am an asshole.”

“We all are assholes at some point. It’s more so common with people like us.”

“People like us?”

“We are businessmen, and we are born to lead and be assertive. Sometimes that crosses over into being an asshole. Do you know how many times my wife has called me every name under the sun? Or how many times she has told me I am being a CEO and need to walk out of the house and adjust my tone before walking back in?” Conrad questions in all seriousness, and I can’t help but chuckle. I can see Elise doing the same thing in the future. “Cathleen does not take my shit, and I don’t think Elise will take it either. She will call you an asshole, and all you can do is learn where the line is drawn between CEO and boyfriend or husband.”

“Elise has already called me an asshole,” I confess, “I deserved it.”

“Half the time, we do deserve it. It’s in our nature, but again, we learn to control it. We better get back to the ladies before they think I have killed you,” Conrad stands to his feet.

I stare at him and raise a brow, “Was that your initial plan, sir?”

“No, but it will be if you call me sir one more time,” Conrad laughs, “My name is Conrad,” Elise’s Dad corrects me, not wanting me to be as formal. I nod my head and stand up, taking my drink with me before we climb the stairs, leaving the cabin area and stepping back out into the crisp air, Conrad and I parting ways and walking to opposite ends of the yacht.

I make my way around the yacht, amazed by how big the fucking thing is. I know this thing had to have cost more than I can imagine. I smile to myself when I see Elise sitting on a blanket at the yacht’s foredeck with a book in her hand. I watch her for a moment as she is clueless to the world around her, her hair is blowing in the breeze of the slow sails, and her eyes are cast on a book with no intentions of looking away. Most people would be taking pictures or drinking on their father’s yacht. Instead, she is content, reading a book on her own and paying no attention to the rest of the world.

I step closer to where she rests, “Elle,” I call her name from her behind, not wanting to startle her as I walk closer. Elise turns to look at me over her shoulder and smiles that gorgeous smiles of hers.

“I see you made it out alive,” Elise chuckles, keeping her finger in place on her book.

“I did,” I nod, “I see you have your nose in a book.”

“I do,” Elise shows me the cover of the book.

I cock my head to the side and look at the title, “Haven’t you read that before?”

Elise nods and hums her response, “And you are rereading it?” I question.

“It is a good book, Harry. Do you have something against the Great Gatsby?” Elise asks, sounding shocked, almost as if I have insulted her but asking if she is rereading it.

I am not the kind of person to read books twice. I read them the first time, watch the movie and then call it a day. I have never been interested in reading something over and over again, just for the fun of it. I know the ending. I know the plot. Why reread it?

I sit down beside her and drape my arm around her as I kiss the top of her head, “Eh, I won’t lie. I found the book boring.”

“How so?”

“It’s a story about elite society.”

“Is that what you got out of the whole book, Harry?” My response does not amuse Elise.

“No, I don’t like how the book was portrayed. Not one of the characters were good. It isn’t like To Kill a Mockingbird where the book manages to display both the good and the evil inside people.”

“It’s the writing style that makes the book so great. It’s the pros.”

“Yeah, not a literary person, love,” I shake my head, “Anyway,” I trail off, “I have to go to LA for work on Thursday,” I finally tell Elise that I have a business meeting in LA that will take most of my time next week.

“Damn it, Harry,” Elise huffs.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Now, who is going to help me study?” Elise chuckles, causing me to roll my eyes at her.

This woman is something else, that is for sure. “Do you keep me around just to help you study?”

Elise shrugs her shoulders and closes her book, “Also for your good looks, but seriously, I need some help with my China and globalism course.”

“I assume you have a test?”

“Indeed,” Elise nods, “Can I get some help?”

“Sure, we can before I leave, or if you want, we can facetime while I am in LA to help?” I offer, unsure of when the best time will be for her to study. “China Globalism is a blast. You will love it,” I sarcastically add, very aware of the fact that Elise will hate the course. She may be knowledgeable,, but this will be the course that tests her in every way. The fucking course broke me at one point, it was a horrible experience, but it has come in handy with Jamie’s clients. However, I do not foresee this course helping Elise. She doesn’t want to get into this side of the business. She doesn’t even want to be in the business world. Elise has a true passion for English. I know she wants to do something with writing and is only pursuing business for her father.

“I already hate it,” Elise mutters, “So, you will be able to help?”

“Of course,” I agree, “I don’t know why you think I won’t help,” I kiss her cheek as she places her book down on the blanket.

Elise looks at me and pushes her hair behind her ear, “I know you’re busy; that’s why.”

“Mhm,” I hum, “I am going to have to go up to my mother’s sometime soon. Would you like to come with me?” I softly offer, not wanting to make the dreaded drive to Chesire on my own. I don’t want to go up there, but I have to. My mother deserves to see me, even if it is for a few moments.

Elise rests her head on my shoulder, “I would love to,” Elise responds cheerfully, far too cheery to be going to Cheshire. I wish I had her happy demeanour about Cheshire, but I cannot. I can’t even attempt to fake it.

My phone goes off, and I reach into my pocket and grab it. I look down at the screen and bite the inside of my cheek when I see ‘Logan’ pop up on my screen.

I don’t want to deal with him, and I thought I made it quite clear that I want nothing to do with the spawn of satan. My hatred for Logan will probably never subside, so we should have minimal contact, but for some reason, like my father, Logan is determined to cause havoc on my life in every single way possible.

I quickly read the text message, much to my bitter distaste, “Harry, I know you didn’t want to hear from me so soon, but if it’s a 999 situation. — Logan”

I place my phone back in my pocket and stare out at the water in an attempt to find my thoughts. A 999 situation with Logan can only really mean one thing. Blood. The last time it was a 999 situation, I had to swallow my hatred towards him and give him blood. I am not sure why he doesn’t just go to our father for it— but I can’t be petty and scoop to the level of declining him what I believe is primary care. I may hate him, and he may be what I consider the worst thing to happen to my life, but I can’t sit back and not help him with this. Ever since his mother passed away, I have been the one to donate blood to him when he needs it. I don’t remember our ages well, but I know that at around sixteen, his mother died, and up until that point, she was the one who would help him when his health got too poor. Now it is up to me. I could be an asshole and refuse to help him. I could tell him to fuck off and go to our father… But what kind of man would I be to deny someone essential health? What kind of man would I be if I didn’t help someone in need? Most of all, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t put my anger and resentment to the side to benefit someone else?

To answer my questions, I would be a selfish prick like my father, and I refuse to be anything like him.

I pull myself back to reality and remind myself that today was meant to be a day of not stressing about things I cannot change or fix. I cannot change the predicaments that happen. I am not in control of them. I am only in control of what I do. When I am done with Elise and her family, I will see what needs to happen with Logan and do what needs to be done.  

[youngerdrgrey]

a choice for the choiceless // a Batwoman, post-2x15 fic

about: Post 2x15, the ladies of the Bat Team try to help their friend, who seems almost resentful to be alive. How do you help someone when they’re in a place like this? + read on ao3

Notes: there was a lot in 2x15 (“Armed and Dangerous”), and this is partially me processing my own feelings, as well as everyone else’s. Spoilers below for that episode, as it picks up close after. Features the whole of our Bat Team; some Hamilfox and hints of Wildmoore feels here as well

Content Warnings: brief talk of suicidal ideology, hopelessness, and systemic violence against Black people

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Luke stares out the window at The Hold Up. His shoulders cave inwards, and his neck strains to make up for the fact that he hasn’t totally turned towards the light. He watches it though. Tracks the people on the street while Sophie crosses back over to him with their coffees.

It’s been three days since Luke woke up from his coma. Sophie hasn’t spent a lot of time with him since then. Mostly, she talks with Jacob about what a new version of the Crows would require. She texts with Mary and Ryan, who swear that Luke will be back to his old self any day now. But Sophie wants to see for herself how he’s doing.

She sets his hot cup in front of him. The steam slips from the top of it. He glances over and nods his thanks in her direction.

Sophie starts light. “I’ve been meaning to congratulate you. You and Ryan really had me going when I ‘introduced’ you that day.” They’d pretended not to know each other, which gave Ryan a chance to poke fun at Luke. “I should’ve known you were joking. You don’t seem like a sweet drinks kind of guy.”

Luke picks up his cup. “I’m not.”

“Not the talkative kind of guy either?” she asks. Luke sighs into the top of his cup. Sophie offers a smile. “Hey, totally fine. I just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“Probably about as good as you,” he says. His nostrils flare before he swipes under his nose. “Kate’s gone. Your mom won’t talk to you. The Crows are completely dismantled. In a few short months, you’ve essentially lost everything that you’ve spent your whole life working towards. How are you, Soph?”

On edge, with that list.

Sophie shifts back in her seat to get away from the cold facade that’s taken over Luke. She sips her own drink to buy a moment to process. He doesn’t mean to be blunt. He’s deflecting rather than talking about himself, but if Sophie can say the right thing, then maybe her words can help him out too.

“I’m… managing. I would much rather see all of this as a chance to start over.” At least that’s how she’s trying to see things. “Jacob’s getting clean. Ryan and I aren’t constantly fighting. She actually sat next to me on the couch yesterday without comment, so…. There's good stuff happening too. It’s not just a loss.”

Luke meets her eyes for a moment, but the warmth and curiosity that’s normally there is gone. Snuffed out. He takes another swig of his coffee, then sets the empty cup back onto the table.

“Glad to hear it,” he deadpans. “I’ll see you at the office.”

He pushes his chair back, and Sophie can’t find the words to tell him to stop. He walks off without another look at her. Sophie grabs her phone from her bag and calls Ryan.

Ryan speaks immediately. “Hey, how is he?”

Sophie sighs. “He’s still off.”

A walk sign beeps on Ryan’s end of the call. She says, “He came back from the dead. It can take a lot out of someone.”

“You bounced back pretty quick.” If Sophie remembers correctly, Ryan was back on the streets immediately. Sophie mourned Kate, and Ryan as Batwoman tore through the streets to try and take down the False Face Society. She didn’t shut down like this.

“I don’t think we can compare these. I said my goodbyes on that island, but Luke experienced one of the worst fears that we could have. Not to mention the constant think pieces and hashtags and infographics with him at the center. Give him some time. He’ll be fine.”

Luke has been a trending topic since the day of his shooting. Maybe he does only need time. Maybe he’ll snap out of it. But when Alice kidnapped Sophie nearly a year ago, Sophie would wake up from nightmares of being on that beam again. Nightmares where Batwoman didn’t swoop in, or the bomb went off, or Alice simply killed her. Sophie doesn’t have those nightmares much anymore. But sometimes, when she’s really stressed, or feeling extra alone, she can feel the winds whipping around her still.

Sophie clears her throat and clutches her phone a little tighter to her face. “Just keep an eye on him, okay?”

“I’m walking into the Tower right now. We’ve got him. Don’t worry.”

“Says the girl who cried in my arms last week.”

Ryan inhales sharply. “We’re not talking about that.”

Sure thing. They can just gloss over the fact that Ryan sank into Sophie’s arms like it was natural, or that they’d spent nearly ten minutes like that, just holding on and hoping that he would be okay. They’re still holding, even if they won’t admit it.

“Talk to him, Ryan. See if he talks back.”

“I will.”

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 Ryan puts off having a heart to heart with Luke for a few days. He’s clearly not in the mood. Every time she even tries to talk to him, he shuts her down like it’s her first week in the Bat Team all over again. So, she waits until he’s busy and tries to meet him where he’s at — beating the shit out of the punching bag in the Batcave.

The lights are barely on, so the Cave’s half in shadow. From the moment the elevator descends, all Ryan hears is the thick thud of the punching bag. The quick, hard hits of his bare fists. Luke hops from foot to foot in his fighting stance.

Ryan keeps her voice playful. “Try picking on someone your own size.” She sets him up with that. He’s got quite a few inches on her. He’d called her pocket size a few months back when she tried to show how threatening she could be outside of the suit.

But this version of Luke doesn’t even look at her. His whole body’s glistening with sweat at this point, and he grunts out, “I’m good,” before launching into a quick combo on the bag.

Ryan breezes down the catwalk to get to the training area. Closer now, he looks smaller than he used to. Like he’s not eating and instead spends all his time putting on tank tops and joggers and hiding out from the people who care about him. 

She pops into her own fighting stance a few steps out of the danger zone. 

“Well, I’m really good. I don’t mean to brag, but I am teaching multiple martial arts classes.”

He does a spin kick that sends the bag moving a lot further than it used to. How much time has he been spending down here? What’s he preparing for?

Luke steadies the bag. “I don’t want to fight you, Ryan.”

She takes the pause in his practice to grab the other side of the bag. 

“Don’t worry, I can go easy on you. Since you’re still healing and all.” She offers him a teasing smile. His cue to joke back. It might’ve taken them a while to get there, but Ryan and Luke normally play like siblings. She’s never had a brother before him. She doesn’t want to fight either.

He sighs. “Desert rose healed me all up. It’s like it—” He readjusts the wraps on his hands. Finally, he meets her eyes, and the rage in them contradicts how forcibly still his voice sounds. “It’s like it never happened.”

Ryan says, “That’s a good thing, right? You don’t have to worry about scars come summertime.”

Luke jerks his head to the side to tell her to move. Ryan reluctantly lets the bag go, and he gets back to punching. His breath comes out short, but the way he’s hitting feels emotional. Sporadic and pained.

She takes a shaky breath. “Okay, not a good thing. You seem angry. I get anger. You said yourself that I charge into fights that I know I can’t win, and maybe that’s what I’m doing with you.” She has to talk louder over his increased punching speed. “If you want to fight, then we’ll fight. If you want to scream, then we can scream. But this silent brooding thing isn’t you, Luke.”

His head whips around to face her. The bag nearly hits him back as he scoffs at her. “You’ve known me less than a year. You have no idea who I am. Or what I want.”

She reaches her hands out to him. “Then tell me,” she pleads. “Because I want my friend back.”

The fire in his eyes gives way to something hollow. Something aching. He gulps. “Well, you got him.”

“Don’t sound so sad about it,” she says. His jaw twitches, and his nostrils flare. “Wait…. Are you sad about being back?”

Luke starts unwrapping his hands. “I’m fine, Ryan.”

She crosses over to get directly in his face. “But are you happy? Are you upset? Are you—”

“I’m fine!” he yells. His voice echoes through the Batcave, and Ryan flinches. He takes a second to drop his eyes before storming straight for the elevator. He calls over his shoulder. “You can tell Sophie that too.”

Ryan waits until he’s inside the elevator to reply. “What about Mary? You want me to lie to her too?”

Luke’s face crumbles. Then he steadies it back to stone. “Tell her whatever you want. I can’t stop you.” He flips the switch to leave.

Ryan screams because she knows he’ll hear it. Throws her weight behind a punch that sends the bag rattling on its chain.

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.

 “See,” Sophie holds her glass up for Ryan to refill, “I told you.” She frowns as she says it, which does make her normal righteousness less pronounced. The fact that she’s curled into herself on Ryan and Mary’s couch also helps lessen the blow.

Ryan dumps the last of their shared wine bottle into Sophie’s glass before plopping the bottle onto the coffee table. She settles back into her half of the couch.

Mary speaks up from her seat in the comfy chair. “What else can we do? If he’s not talking to any of us, or a therapist, then how are we supposed to get Luke back?”

Sophie shrugs. 

Ryan suggests, “We could reach out to Stephanie. Maybe a nerd date will help Luke feel better.”

Mary says, “Just because you started dating Imani immediately after—”

Ryan cuts in, “I didn’t date her immediately after—”

Mary gets louder. “Yeah, you kind of did. Angelique left on the 3:15 train out of Gotham, and Imani came in at 3:30.” She rubs the tense spot between her eyebrows. “No judgment, but maybe that’s not the answer.”

Ryan glances to Sophie for a little support, but the ex-Crow finds her wine real interesting around then. Ryan should defend herself. She dated Imani to get out of her head. Angelique was her first love, but she and Ang weren’t meant to be each other’s only relationship. Waiting around wouldn’t have changed the fact that Ang was starting a new life. Ryan had to start one too.

She shifts on the couch, so her knees can tuck under her body better. Her leg bumps into Sophie’s, and neither of them make a move to shift away. Sophie stares down at their point of contact.

“Maybe he just needs to know we’re here for him. We keep showing up, and eventually, he’ll have to talk to us.”

Ryan nods. “In that case, you’re up, Mary.”

Mary sighs into her wine. “No pressure, right?”

 .

.

Mary and Luke don’t hang out a ton in the real world. Usually, they’re in the Batcave when they spend time together. Or he helps her at the clinic. So, she figures that she shouldn’t exactly rock the boat too far.

Luke sits down on one of the exam chairs in the clinic. The whole space is empty, with the closed sign on the front door. He shrugs out of his jacket. She tries not to look as nervous as she feels.

“Thanks for coming down.” She wrings her hands before stopping herself and planting them firmly against her sides. “I wanted to see how the desert rose in your blood compares to mine, or Ryan’s. So, uh, it shouldn’t take too long to do the draw.”

Luke nods. “Sure thing.” He rolls the sleeve of his left arm up. “I’m all yours.”

“Right.” She chuckles, but it’s a breathless kind. The kind that she needs to clear her throat to cover.

The tray’s already prepped beside him with the needle and test tubes. She rolls her own chair to stop beside him. It’s honestly the closest they’ve been since he’s gotten out of the hospital. He probably doesn’t even remember her being there. Or what she said about needing him just before he came back. That’s probably too intense of a topic to start with.

She ties a band on his arm to make his veins pop. She wouldn’t need it normally. Luke’s got great veins. Great skin in general. Softer than she’d expect for a guy who spends all his time in the same suit. She actually hasn’t seem him in casual clothes that often, come to think of it. Does he own casual clothes?

Luke chuckles. “You’re thinking pretty hard there. First time?”

Mary springs for the needle. “Ha ha. I just… started thinking about… my dad. Because of veins! And Snakebite. He’s, um… doing better?”

He smiles at her, like actually gives a short glimpse of connection. “That’s really good to hear.”

Mary runs with it. “Yeah, and he’s talking about his feelings. And Alice even warned me that somebody might try to hurt me. It’s weird, and I don’t want Alice as my family, but it’s also nice to not feel super alone….” She pricks him then. His face scrunches for a second, and she watches the vial fill up rather than watching his face. “It’s why I’m so grateful to you and Ryan and Sophie. You’ve been my family through all of this. I seriously don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Luke’s left arm twitches, but it doesn’t feel like a blood thing. More like he wants to reach out with it. She keeps her eyes low and unlatches the first vial. Grabs the second and lets that one fill too.

Luke says, “I guess it’s different for me. I have my mom, but…. Did you know she calls me every single day for check-ins?” He sounds tired but amused. “She sent me an Amazon link for a bulletproof vest yesterday. Never mind the fact that I run Wayne Tech and have literally made a better one in my sleep.” His jaw trembles. “But I get it. She almost lost me in the same exact way that we lost my dad. I-I almost did that to her.”

Mary scrambles to say, “You didn’t do anything.”

“I would have. If… if the choice were up to me, I would not have come back.” He turns to face Mary again. “A-and I love my mom. And I love our team. But I am so tired of being a part of a world like this.”

Her heart crumbles in her chest. The vial nearly overflows, and she has to grab the third one. Her hands shake as she goes for it. Her voice shakes too. “You sound kind of… schmuicidal when you say stuff like that.”

“I’m not going to kill myself,” he says. He sounds sure of that.

“But you want to die?” she asks.

“I don’t want….” He sighs and rephrases. “I just want to be somewhere else sometimes. And this whole thing has made anywhere else seem better. I mean, I was in a coma, Mary, and they were photoshopping a gun into my hand. Why would I want to be here?”

She stops the blood drawing to hold his hand. “I’m here. And Batwoman is here.”

He balls his fist beneath her grip. “And no one’s checking to see if me or Ryan are a part of the team. I’ve spent my whole life doing things the right way, and I am exhausted.”

Mary lifts her other hand to open his fist. She turns his hand so they can be palm to palm, so she can thread her fingers through his and let him feel where she’s at too. Because she might be exhausted for different reasons, but she’s tired too.

“I think it’s okay to be exhausted. And to want a break. But you can’t let all of this break you. And if it feels like it is, then I’d really like to help hold you together.” She smiles at him, and he glances away to blink some of the tears out of his eyes. She lifts her voice to add on, “Preferably with the help of a licensed psychological professional.”

“You’re not licensed, and you save lives.” He squeezes the hand in hers. “You saved me.”

Mary nods. “True, but an actual therapist could help you talk through this stuff without you feeling like you’re going to be judged, or a burden — which you’re not.” She practically scoots out of her seat to be closer to him. Her knees knock into the side of his chair, and she would totally feel ridiculous if not for the fact that he angles his body towards her too. “God, Luke, I am so glad that you’re talking to me. I want to know how you feel and what you’re going through. But I also know that a therapist can put this in a perspective that I can’t. So please consider talking to one?”

He holds her stare for a moment. “On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Next time you want to talk, you just take me to dinner instead of taking my blood.”

Mary laughs, and Luke laughs too. “Deal.”

 .

.

 Luke’s in the bathroom when Mary texts the girl group chat. 

Mary to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 He sounds better. We’re getting dinner and hopefully he’s getting a therapist.

 Sophie to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 Great job, Mary.

 Ryan to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 That’s my girl! Or Luke’s girl? 👀

 Sophie to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 Ryan, they’re just getting dinner

 Ryan to 🦇 LADIES DO IT BATTER GC 🦇 For now ;)

 Mary leaves them on read and stuffs her phone back into her purse. Luke comes back out of the bathroom, drying his hands on a paper towel. “Ready to go?”

Mary nods. “Yeah, we’ll find our way back.” It’s the only choice they have.

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a/n: The hopelessness that Luke feels in this episode and the near constant mix of emotions feel so true to my experiences over the last few years. one thing that they have gotten very right are different aspects of these Black experiences. There’s a lot to work through, and I’ve found that therapy and leaning on friends has been real helpful. Hope that Luke gets that too. Hope that you all have that as well.

Let me know how you’re feeling, re: this, or this season. Talk to me, Gotham. I’ll talk back.

[pandoraswrld]

FALLEN GRACE

— in which kasper is sick

characters / oh aejung, kasper yang

words / 2k

warnings / mentioned drug use, vomit/throwing up, bad vibes all around — if i missed anything please let me know!

수파 at 9:31: aej

수파 at 9:36: aejung

Aejung hadn’t seen the string of messages Kasper had sent her within the last hour, she had no immediate reason to, she had only just gotten back to the dorms a couple minutes ago.

This was one of the few nights she had picked out to hang out with the girls, ones she had promised them all when she moved out only a few months ago. The whole event had been planned to the detail by her: go out with the girls and do what they like and then come back to the dorms and stay the night there. It was pretty simple, and it was supposed to be a fun night.

After having spent hours walking around with everyone, Aejung was glad to finally reach home and call it a day. She missed her bed back at the dorm and it was the perfect opportunity to indulge in the freshly washed sheets she had left there.

She had only kicked off her shoes before she realised her phone had been blowing up with notifications, each one a message from Kasper slowly getting more and more concerning and ending with several missed calls.

수파 at 9:43: aejung please answer me please

수파 at 9:43: please answer me i need you i’m so scared

수파 at 9:44: help me

She almost raced to her contacts, immediately calling him after reading each text. He picked up quickly but there was no noise coming from his end, rather just the static of his phone taking up the space.

“Kasper what’s wrong? Where are you?” Aejung was worried now, even when he was high with her he never talked like this, and to be greeted with nothing but silence? She couldn’t bear it.

“I don’t know what’s happening, I’m at home but please, please just help me.” She sensed urgency in his voice, an urgency she hated hearing. Fuck she had no idea what to do.

“Okay just stay where you are and I’ll come to you, please don’t do anything bad before I get there.” She hung up the phone and ran towards the apartment door, barely stopping to grab her coat and keys.

It’s times like this that Aejung is glad she finally got her driving license. She knows it’s a more mundane thought to have right now, especially when her boyfriend seemed to be having the worst experience of his life but she had to fill her head full of mundane thoughts, anything to get the idea of something seriously wrong happening to leave her head.

With the rate she was going at she was surprised she made it all the way to their apartment without getting caught for speeding. The elevator had never seemed slower than it did as she waited for it to bring her to the right floor, speeding out to their apartment as soon as she saw the door opening to the familiar hallway.

“Kasper!” She called out his name, worried when she couldn’t see him slouching on the sofa like he always did.

“I’m in here.” His voice was so weak, she wouldn’t have been able to hear it over the sound of anything else.

Aejung slammed the front door shut and ran towards the bedroom, finding his limp body only a few centimetres away from the pool of vomit near the door, the sight almost made her tear up.

“What did you take?” Aejung threw herself onto the floor beside him, careful not to step in the vomit.

“Please just hold me.” He sounded exhausted, his sluggish body heaped on the floor and his head just barely resting on the edge of the bed.

She pulled his body into her arms so that his head rested over her shoulders and his legs were laid over her own. He seemed so lifeless, like some doll that she could just throw about.

This wasn’t the man she had known for the past three years. A couple of months ago he would have been the one cradling her in his arms, stroking her hair and singing her to sleep. She didn’t mind, she thinks she shouldn’t anyways, she likes taking care of him but this time was different. He was different.

Still, she continued to run her hands up and down his back and hum some childish lullaby, anything to get him to calm down, “It’s okay, this will be over soon.”

“I-I took a tab, I think, Insung gave it to me.” He was shuddering, clearly cold despite the warmth radiating around the room.

“You took something from Insung?” Aejung knows she can’t be mad, not in this moment, he was too vulnerable. Really she should place her frustrations with Sera but that’s at the back of her mind once Kasper starts talking again.

“He said I would be fine, I thought I would be fine, b-but I don’t know what happened. I was just thinking about you and then the next thing I know I’m throwing up and suddenly everything was so dark.” God, he sounded so scared, she hated seeing him like this.

“How long has it been since you took the tab?” She kept her voice calm, she didn’t want to freak him out even more.

“I know that I took it at around three but god it feels like it’s been so long Aejung, is it still the ninth?” He looked up at her and she had to hold herself back from sobbing right there.

She caught his eyes first, his eyes that were once so full of love just staring back at her entirely empty and dilated. She saw that his eyes were now accompanied by incredibly dark circles in the space where they once were faint, Aejung used to adore his eyes.

She chose to exhale deeply, a shaky breath exiting her mouth before she began to speak, “It’s about ten o’clock now which means you’re seven hours into a trip, but it’s okay I’ll stay here with you for the rest of it.”

“But weren’t you doing something with the girls today– oh god I’m keeping you here, I’m so sorry.” There was genuine concern in his voice, it was unmistakable and it only made it harder for Aejung to want to stay.

“Please, it’s okay.” She rests his head back down on her shoulder and goes back to rubbing circles on his back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He just kept repeating those same words over and over until he had stopped shaking.

Something had changed in the room. Aejung wasn’t sure if it was the fact that the only thing she could see was the streetlight through his window or the fact that both of them were crying silently, almost as if they didn’t want to alert the other of their tears.

“We have got to get you into a better mood!” Aejung tried to be positive as she wiped her tears away and quickly put on a lighter voice.

“I feel like I’m going to die.” Aejung supposed that she shouldn’t take his statement to heart, people say all kinds of things on acid but he just kept on repeating it.

Over and over the words rattled in her head, slowly going from “I feel like” to “I’m going to die” and she simply couldn’t put a stop to them. She couldn’t be here, she couldn’t deal with the thought, but there’s no way she could leave. She was stuck, with her boyfriend breaking down in her arms, she had nowhere to go. This was her home now, he was her home and she couldn’t just leave him here.

“Please, stop.” She sighed, “You’re not going to die, I’m going to make sure of it.”

“How do you know that? This feels like the end Aej, I’m scared.”

“I know you are, but you’re strong, you can do this!” She tried believing her own words but it was so hard when he just seemed to be decomposing in front of her.

“Oh god I’m gonna be sick again.” Aejung took that seriously, trying to pull both herself and the five foot ten man towards his bathroom as quickly as she could.

She had only made it about halfway there before he had thrown up again, thankfully nowhere near anything important.

Aejung slumped back down to the floor, her back leaning against his bedroom wall. She was going to have to clean this up at some point, wanting to groan at the thought.

Out of all the thoughts she had processed within the last hour the ones that hurt her the most were her own musings of the situation. She wished and wished that Kasper hadn’t texted her, that she could’ve just gone to bed and got the sleep she had desperately been needing. She knew it was selfish of her to think such thoughts but it also wasn’t her job to take care of a grown man through a bad trip, actually it wasn’t her job to take care of him at all. It was his.

Every time, Kasper always promised to be safe, he always told her where he was going, what he was doing and with who. He trusted her, she trusted him, and they respected that all throughout their relationship. She didn’t have to ask him to tell her things and yet he decided to keep this one hidden, she reckons this is his consequence but she shouldn’t think such things.

“Do you want to lay down on the bed, it’s comfier.” She tried talking to him again.

He simply nodded at her words and tried getting himself up this time. His arm was slung over Aejung’s back, desperately leaning into her as they both walked over to bed and laid themselves down side by side.

Aejung’s hand went over to brush the stray white hairs out of his eyes. He was beautiful, he always was, even in his moments of fallen grace.

“I don’t – no – I can’t sleep, not now, not tonight.” The panic started rising in Kasper’s again. She sat up, preparing herself for just about anything from him now.

“Why not, love?” She tried her best to be understanding, using a mellow voice and leaving her hand over his, but she wanted nothing more than to be asleep.

“I won’t wake up, I just know it.” There he goes, Aejung expects another mortifying rant from him to take up the next few minutes, “I feel it Aejung, like the moment I drift off that that will be the end for me.”

“I will watch over you, think of me as your guardian angel,” She gave him a tired smile, “As your angel, I don’t think I’m ready to let you go just yet.”

Kasper noticeably softened, his once tense expression now painted with soft lines and the glimpse of a smile. His knuckles were no longer white as he loosened his grip on the blanket and Aejung could’ve sworn she saw his familiar brightness begin to fill up his face again.

“You know you’re glowing right now,” he looked up at her as though she were the only thing in the world.

“Am I?”

“Mmmh, you’re glowing slightly golden, just like how I imagined you would.” She can’t begin to fathom what Kasper was seeing with his brain on acid but hearing his words made her feel warm inside. They made her feel loved, probably for the first time that night.

“Does that make you feel better?”

He nodded, shuffling up the bed to sit by her side. His head rested on her shoulder ever so delicately, he seemed calm. Aejung only hoped that he had finally made it out of the deep end.

Everything seemed as it normally would, Kasper and Aejung hand in hand, resting on their shared bed with only the fluorescent beams of the streetlight outside highlighting their faces. Aejung finally felt at peace, her fingertips were no longer cold and her heartbeat attempted to match Kasper’s. He had finally stopped thinking at sixty miles per hour and enjoyed the slowed moment, trying his best to push all the dark thoughts out of his brain.

Aejung was his guardian angel, she was there to protect him. He couldn’t fall tonight, not any more than he already had. For now, both of them could just revel in the moment of comfortable silence between them, all worries to be left for another day.

[tickly-trashcan]

A Special Way {TodoDeku}

Hello anon, thank you for the prompt! This one got a bit longer than I expected i apologize, but i still hope you enjoy it!

edit: i completely forgot the ‘read more’ fdjkdbfdjdksbj sorry bout that

Summary: Midoriya realizes that everything Todoroki does makes him flustered, and so they decide to think of a way to change that!

Word Count: 1.6k (under the cut)

Midoriya sat on his dorm bed, bored out of his mind. He had already finished all his homework for the week, could he study? No, he didn’t have any tests coming up soon that would warrant that… Could he rearrange his All Might figure collection? No, he had just done that last week…

He sighed as he rolled onto his back, pulling out his little flip phone and clicking a few buttons, scrolling through his contacts for someone he could maybe hang out with. As he scrolled through, he kept remembering that everyone on the list had plans that day. Ochako and Tsuyu went to get some ice cream, Iida was visiting his brother…

Then there was Todoroki.

Was Todoroki doing anything that day? He couldn’t remember, Todoroki didn’t like to talk about himself and his plans that much.

It had been almost a month since he and Todoroki had started dating, and yet he still felt nervous and Todoroki had a hard time opening up to him… Midoriya sighed, remembering their first date when they went to tea and sat there awkwardly, Midoriya unable to formulate and Todoroki being too shy to start any sort of conversation. But in spite of that, it had gotten a bit better, although it was still difficult for Midoriya not to blush at every single thing Todoroki did.

Midoriya took a shaky breath and sent a text to Todoroki, asking if he could stop by his dorm. Midoriya sat up, holding his phone with a shaky hand as he waited for a response.

Seen.

Midoriya felt a sudden rush of warmth run over his back as he waited for the typing bubbles to pop up… any minute now…

Did Todoroki leave him on read?

Maybe he was busy, and Midoriya just bothered him, shoot! Midoriya slammed his hands against his face and groaned, falling back on his bed, rolling from side to side in shame.

He sat there for a while, trying to think of another person he could possibly hang out with when he heard a knock at his door. 

“Midoriya, are you in here?”

That voice… Was it Todoroki? Midoriya jumped up and ran towards the door, tripping clumsily over his chair, stubbing his toe as he cried out in pain.

The door opened on his own as Midoriya hunched over in pain, Todoroki walking in and kneeling down next to Midoriya, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright, Midoriya? Did you hurt yourself?”

Midoriya shook his head, a blush creeping up his cheeks as Todoroki’s grip on his shoulder tightened, Midoriya letting go of the foot he was clutching to wave his hands around.

“I-I’m fine, don’t worry about me! Sorry, I thought you were busy, I wasn’t expecting you,”

“I was just doing some schoolwork, I’d rather be spending time with you anyway.” Todoroki said plainly, his expression as unreadable as ever as Midoriya blushed at his words, covering his face as he did so.

“How can you say that so easily?!” Midoriya squeaked, making Todoroki smile slightly.

“Because I care about you Midoriya,” He said, again in his mildly monotone voice. Midoriya blushed again, crawling over to his bed and hiding his face in his pillow, whining.

“It’s not fair, I can’t say things like that!”

“Why not?” Todoroki asked, following Midoriya to the bed, sitting down next to Midoriya’s curled up body, rubbing his back.

“I get so… flustered, I don’t know. It’s hard to say them because I just get so nervous,” Midoriya tried to explain, burying his face further into the pillow, muffling his words even more.

Todoroki was barely able to understand what Midoriya was saying, but he got the gist, stopping his hand and scooting himself further up the bed, tugging at the pillow that Midoriya was clutching.

“How about we try and find a way to make you less nervous? What did All Might say before that training session… get your wiggles out? Something like that, we can get the nervousness out,” Todoroki said caringly, finally pulling the pillow away from Midoriya, who looked up at him with a confused expression, an expression that made Todoroki’s heart rate increase slightly. 

“Um, I don’t really know what can… heh, ‘get my wiggles out’,” Midoriya giggled, looking up at Todoroki. 

“Anything that makes you feel better? Like going for a walk, or maybe training?” 

Midoriya thought for a moment… something that made him feel better after…

He blushed slightly, reaching again for the pillow that Todoroki had tugged away, Todoroki grabbing it before Midoriya could.

“No hiding. Did you think of something?”

“Yes, but it’s embarrassing!”

Todoroki chuckled. “Everything’s embarrassing for you, Midoriya, just tell me.”

Midoriya covered his face with his hands, whining as Todoroki sighed. “Take as long as you need, I just want to help Midoriya,”

Todoroki was about to get up from the bed before Midoriya grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down. Todoroki scooted even closer to Midoriya, leaning down slightly.

“C-Can you… tickle me?”

Todoroki blinked a few times. He was expecting a few things but he wasn’t expecting… that. 

With lack of verbal response from Todoroki, Midoriya’s mind began to race. 

“A-Ah I’m sorry! I didn’t actually mean it, I can think of something els- Ack!”

He was cut off suddenly when Todoroki pounced on him, pinning him to the bed by straddling his waist, hovering over him with a small grin on his face, Midoriya blushing more at the sight.

“I-I, ah,” Midoriya tried to formulate, Todoroki setting his hands on Midoriya’s tummy, the warm and cool temperatures from both of them sending tingles up Midoriya’s spine as he looked down at Todoroki’s hands.

“I’ll be gentle, okay?”

Before Midoriya could speak out any flustered response, Todoroki lightly scratched his hands on Midoriya’s tummy, who immediately erupted in bubbly giggles.

“Eeheeheeheehee, Todoroki! W-Wahahahait!” Midoriya swatted at Todoroki’s hands, covering his mouth with one hand to try and suppress the giggles that kept bubbling out of his throat. 

“I’ll stop whenever you want me to, okay?” Todoroki said gently, his hands now exploring Midoriya’s sides as he let out a squeak, his giggles slowly forming into laughter.

Midoriya nodded, covering his mouth with both hands as Todoroki continued his torture. It was very ticklish, yes, but it was also gentle, and it made Midoriya feel safe as he laughed, Todoroki slowly going up to his ribs. Midoriya jolted and Todoroki halted.

“Not here?”

“Nohohoho, it’s… it’s okay,” Midoriya blushed, Todoroki smiling as he dug his fingers in a bit harder than before into Midoriya, showing that the gentle warm-up from earlier was over and it was time for some serious tickles and loud laughter, which quickly followed from Midoriya.

He twisted around slightly under Todoroki, but with him on top it was hard to move at all, so Midoriya could do nothing but cackle as Todoroki scooted down slightly in his straddle, squeezing Midoriya’s hips, who let out a loud shriek, followed by a flood of loud laughter.

“Waahahahahait Todoroki! Nohohohoho, not there!” Midoriya whined, swatting at Todoroki’s hands. Todoroki merely grinned down at Midoriya and continued to tickle him.

“You asked for it, and I’m only gonna stop when you ask,” Todoroki explained simply, drilling his fingers into Midoriya’s hip bone. Midoriya let out a loud yelp.

“AHAHAHAhahahahahaha, nooo!” Midoriya screamed, squirming violently as Todoroki mercilessly tickled one of his worst spots.

“Does it tickle bad here? Want me to change spots?” Todoroki asked, slowing his pace as Midoriya giggled breathlessly.

“P-Please,” 

Todoroki nodded, lifting up Midoriya’s thin T-shirt he was wearing.

“Wh- huh?!” Midoriya gasped, not expecting that to happen. Before he could say anything else, however, Todoroki’s hands descended upon his tummy once more, Todoroki using his nails to scratch gently at Midoriya’s sensitive skin, driving him very quickly up the wall as he arched his back, screaming with laughter.

“NAHAHAHAhahaha!! T-Tohohohohodorokii!” Midoriya managed to gasp out through his mad cackles, twisting from side to side as Todoroki had one hand drum up Midoriya’s ribs while the other went under his unprotected arm.

Midoriya felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, he felt like he’d need to ask Todoroki to stop soon if he didn’t want to pee himself, but at the same time… he felt like he didn’t want this to stop. It was nice being this close to Todoroki, he didn’t feel flustered or embarrassed and, even though he was being tickled to death, it still made him feel more comfortable around him. 

He was so caught up in his own thoughts and the sensations overwhelming his body, Midoriya didn’t notice Todoroki lower his head towards his tummy until it was too late.

Pbft!

Midoriya screamed, pushing at Todoroki’s head as he continued to blow raspberries all over Midoriya’s tummy, hands still working right at his lower ribs. Midoriya felt tears finally trickle out of his eyes as he desperately gasped out.

“STOHOHOP!! Plehehease no mohohohohohore!”

As soon as those words were spoken, Todoroki lifted his head up, along with his hands, as Midoriya greedily gulped in as much air as he could, thankful that he could finally breathe normally again.

“Did I go too far?” Todoroki asked innocently, tilting his head to the side a bit. Midoriya shook his head.

“No, noho you didn’t… ah that actually helped a lot, thank you…” Midoriya muttered, blushing slightly, partially from the tickle attack he still hadn’t recovered from.

Todoroki smiled, leaning in and pressing a kiss to Midoriya’s temple. Midoriya flushed, pulling away slightly, but then he laughed slightly.

“I didn’t feel as embarrassed that time!” He said proudly, Todoroki chuckling.

“I guess I’ll have to tickle you a lot from now on then,” He said, raising his hands again.

“Wait, I’m not embarrassed right now, wahahahahait!”

[atinykidult]

The Wind in His Ears — Choi San

[angst w/fluff] [2221 words] — A prompt taken overboard, wherein San loses his heart but finds it again. Disbandment!au, be warned. No tws except for loneliness (and reference of sex, I guess)

[prompt] — Travel!au, strangers to lovers, “That was a very bad idea. 0/10 would not recommend.”

[dedication] — If you like soft or sexy stuff please check out @sanflowerseeds‘s works! They’re phenomenal (and written by an also phenomenal person!) I’m so sorry this took so long! I love you, Nanda, and hope you’re doing well!

[a/n] — This may be my worst fic ever, bc it has gone through so many directional changes. But it’s been a WIP so long, I just wanted it posted haha If you have time, please leave me some notes on what went wrong/right! Thank you for reading!

.

When Choi San hits his mid-thirties and feels his joints crackle a few decibels too loudly, he knows his body won’t take much more. So when their second round of contract negotiations roll around, his decision has already been made for him. 

But when Hongjoong delivers the official group stance, his heart still cracks.

.

And when they have their final performance, San’s the last one to cry.

Because his tears will last the longest.

.

The crack in his heart spreads into a veritable canyon in his world.

A scattering wind blows through that empty cavern, pulling Hongjoong to mentoring a new rookie group and Jongho to OST deals. But San gets to stand with Yeosang at his wedding; he grabs coffee with Wooyoung every other week, usually...

So San pretends he’s fine for six months.

After all… Mingi sends memes to the group chat all the time—

And Seonghwa makes sure to Facetime regularly—

San wanders the streets of Seoul, hands stuffed in his pockets, the loud wind in his ears for his only company. At home, whenever he stands up stiffly, there’s only him to laugh at his cracking joints. Well… he laughs at himself, to begin with. Then he doesn’t laugh.

One day, he’s wandering the streets again when he sees it. An ad for a travel agency.

There’s only wind in his ears as he considers it.

“A toast to San!” announces Hongjoong, voice forcibly cheerful. “Who’s going on a world tour!”

Eight glasses are lifted in the air; seven pairs of eyes look incredibly worried.

Someone wraps themselves around San as other voices chime in.

“San, fighting!”

“Let’s gooo!”

“World travel!” someone shouts in English.

San’s heart both heals and breaks again as he looks at his seven friends who dropped everything to wish him well.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” he tells them wetly.

Maybe it’s Jongho’s knowing eyes that make him shed the first tear.

Maybe it’s how the others all know how much he’s hurting, and how utterly relieved San feels to be back with these seven other people.

No matter the reason, San cries at this moment, clinging to his former groupmates as they hug him goodbye. There’s promises to text, proclamations of staying up just for video chats. There’s also seven whispers of the same sentiment: I hope this can help you heal.

.

He meets you in a coffeeshop. Your coffeeshop, actually.

It’s his second visit, and for some reason, it’s one of his favorite places he’s found in his travels. Something about its atmosphere draws him in. The warmth. The way it has nooks where he can sit and people-watch. The way the food tastes nearly perfect every time. The way it’s so empty when he comes in for his breakfast.

The way it’s just a minute’s walk from his hotel.

Correction: It is his favorite establishment he’s found in his grand travel.

Truthfully...

The “grand travel” hasn’t been so grand. He’s jumped around the world a little, going wherever the wind blows, renting a room for however long the wind calms down. Leaving for the next city or town whenever it gets worse.

On good days, he can look around himself and feel his heart stir a little. Because he’s gotten to see some incredible things.

On bad days, he can feel the wind utterly drop. When it does, he’ll look around himself. He’ll wonder if he really wanted to see Canada that one time. Or if he just chose a country 12 hours different from Korea because maybe, just maybe, flipping his clock completely could flip his life around, too.

Today’s one of the better days, actually.

As he hands you his payment, you offer small talk.

Ask about his day.

He tells you he’s fine, that he could be much worse off, truly believing it. (But also believing he could be much better off, too.)

Something in your gaze seems to understand him.

“And how’s your day?” he offers, his pronunciation a little messy.

“It exists,” you reply. 

A mirror of him, at heart.

.

He comes into your coffeeshop the next day and knows it’s just going to be a daily thing until he leaves this city.

That one booth in the back left corner… It has good seats.

As he settles down with the same order he had gotten the last two days, he catches your eye. Smiles with his lips.

And something about that one thing makes him realize.

He hasn’t truly had anything like this in a while. The same food, three days in a row. Someone who’s met his eyes, three days in a row.

It’s another good day.

The howling wind grows just a little quieter.

.

“Two orders of today’s special and an einspänner?” you ask as he moves to the counter.

His eyebrows furrow. “Oh?”

“You’ve been here three days straight, exact same order,” you smile, “first customer of the day.”

“Ah.” He takes a moment to gather his words, unsure if this was accusatory or just observation. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry. I can—”

“No! It’s, ah, it’s nice. You’re always very pleasant, to me.” He recalls that first encounter, how you had seemed to understand the weight of his few words. “Are you a tourist? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before this week.”

“You could say so.”

“Any plans for today?”

The wind pushing him around never made plans.

“Not really,” he admits.

“Taking it as you go?”

“You could say so.” He notices how you look at him with a measuring look. One that makes him feel seen, and he hasn’t felt that way for a very long time. But it isn’t an unwelcome feeling. “Do you have any recommendations? On what to do? Things you like?”

You smile bittersweetly. “I have some ideas.”

“Can you tell me a few?” The words come out of San’s mouth without thinking.

At that moment, the door opens with a whoosh, and another customer steps in.

“Tell... tell you what,” you say. “I have an employee coming in in half an hour. If you would like the company, I can give you those suggestions over a second cup of coffee?”

Meeting your eyes, something in him feels like hiding. But something else in him leaps at the offer. “I’m a slow eater. So yes.”

You smile again, a little wider.

His lips, too, twitch upwards of their own volition.

That day, San makes an itinerary for the first time on his trip—and, maybe, a friend.

.

After a long day of hiking, San collapses on his hotel room bed and feels a stirring of optimism in his chest. The weariness in his bones almost feels familiar. He had collapsed like this many times after concerts or performances.

He stares at the ceiling, consciously wondering for the first time on this trip, if he’s ready to face the wind.

His eyes land on his suitcase.

His hands move to unpack it.

And the wind in his ears, again, gets a little quieter.

.

As he walked into your coffeeshop the next day, he asks you to sit with him from the get-go.

You peer into his eyes, spotting equal measures of hope and uncertainty, and immediately drop your paperwork. “Of course.”

His conversation is nice; his personality is nicer. (Possibly his skin is nicest, but that’s irrelevant.)

.

Your conversations continue, and by the tenth day, you’re sharing the thoughts that sometimes scare you. From your worries about disappointing everyone to wondering if your degrees even mattered... you spill it all out. He does the same.

Which is scary, because you’ve only known him for ten days. Seven, really.

Based on the way he’s ducking his head right now, his story hanging in the air sadly, he must feel similarly.

(He hasn’t told anyone about his story, his sad state, since he left Korea. He doesn’t share every detail, but he says enough that both he and the wind in his ears feel very shaken.)

Forty minutes later, he stands to leave, and you hear some joints crack.

“Maybe the chiropractor?”

His smile in response is remorseful.

You stand, too, and feel your neck crack a little.

“Maybe we both can go?”

And the smile is a little less sad.

.

You have known San for two weeks now, and today, he enters the shop much more confidently than usual. With a shy smile (but genuine, you realize), he shows you pictures of a lake you had directed him to. He had caught it on a good day. As he lets you scroll through the pictures, you find that someone must have taken his picture for him.

You want to say something meaningful as you study the way his skin has grown so golden in these two weeks. The way his smile reaches his eyes.

“You look nice here,” you say simply.

That shy smile turns larger.

.

You don’t know if this is a bad habit, dropping everything to share breakfast with San every morning. But, what did it hurt anything? After you asked your employees to come in early to cover for you, they agreed too quickly.

Because they are amazing humans, you think.

And because they are ridiculous humans, they smile knowingly at each other as either you or him look at the other for a moment too long.

And, because you both are pathetic, San and you never notice.

.

By the third week, you wonder why you haven’t exchanged phone numbers.

Naturally, then, you laugh and casually give him your number after he admits getting lost yesterday.

“I know you’re not a damsel in distress or anything, but next time… just call me if you get lost.”

He doesn’t mean to look at you so intently after that, but he does.

You don’t look away.

Swallowing, he wonders if you can see the lingering sadness he feels, the wind still throwing him off balance sometimes. The weight of knowing how worried his hyungs are for him, the fear that he had done something to his body when he was younger, so it was all his fault somehow...

But as your gaze slips to his lips for just a moment, he also wonders if you are seeing what thousands of fans had once seen. Something worthy.

When your gaze moves back to his eyes, and you start talking about nonsense, he knows: You could see it all, and more, even.

San feels something stir in his chest, something warmer and kinder and more enticing than the thrall of dancing to thousands of cheers. 

When he finally finds it in himself to say goodbye, he can’t help but ask. “Can I call you when I’m not lost, too?”

.

Three days after that, San wakes and feels an impossibly strong urge to sing. Just something bright and loud. Something hopeful.

He pictures your coffeeshop and your face.

And he feels himself smiling widely.

Opening his phone, his fingers type faster than the wind:

Heading your way in 10 :)

.

That weekend, you go drinking together.

You’re both tipsy, sitting in a bar booth with your sides pressed together, and everything comes to head.

You’re both tipsy and warm, filters long lost, when San pours out the rest of the story to you. The side of the story that the wind in his ears usually hid in white noise.

It’s a euphoric story with deafeningly beautiful highs, but also a heartbreaking one with devastatingly ugly lows. But as he pours out the joys of standing on stage, of the laughter-filled, starlit walks back to the dorms, you know it was worth it to him.

And you also come to know, he didn’t choose to quit.

He keeps pouring drinks; keeps pouring out his emotional, earnest soul.

Midway through the night, your dulled head has just enough awareness to realize you are in love with that soul.

And as you have to wave away another glass, you will always hold onto the magnificent moment when he admits: “But I don’t feel sad about any of it when I’m with you.”

.

The next day, you wake up at your place. San’s lying beside you.

“Morning,” he groans.

If your head and body didn’t hurt so much, that alone would have inspired you to restart last night’s activities. 

“Everything hurts,” you groan.

“Same.”

Your legs are slightly brushing each others, but your torsos aren’t touching. It makes you feel sad. Then something in you melts when he shifts his weight closer to you so they are.

“Are”—you yawn—”we going to that… ugh…. waterfall today?”

“Not after last night.” He buries his face against your hair.

“Yeah…” Your head throbs, and you groan again. “That was a very bad idea, 0/10 would not recommend.”

San makes an offended sound in the back of his throat. “The alcohol or the sex?”

Yawning again, you can barely reply. “You know which one.”

He kisses your head and yawns as well. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

“Soon.”

“Soon?”

“But... not right now.”

After yawning together, he chuckles against your hair. “Yeah, sleep... for now.”

.

As you both close your eyes again, San can only hear two things:

One, the steady rhythm of your breathing.

Two, the soft hum of your ceiling fan.

He falls asleep knowing:

There’s no wind.

.

[ateez taglist] — @seongghwaa​ @s1ardusk​ @yunwoo​​ @toffee-hwa​ @yunhowhoitiss​ @sippn-the-tae​ @yeocult​ @barsformars​ (thank you for your support! I love y’all so much!!! <3 <3 <3)

[threeletterslife]

Change of Plans

→ summary: So how did you and Seokjin meet? Now that the two of you are engaged, you’re ready to tell your friends the night you were supposed to get laid but didn’t. And it’s all your fiancé’s fault.

→ pairing/rating: seokjin x reader | PG-13

→ genre: 80% crack, 20% fluff | college!au & est. relationship!au

→ warnings: profanity, mentions of hooking up, crude humor, tinder lmao

→ wordcount: 2.5k

→ a/n: guys when i was editing this i laughed at my own fucking jokes ohmygod 🤡🤡

cr.

"So," Jungkook snorts, swinging his arm around Seokjin's shoulder as he looks at the happy couple curiously. "You're getting married."

"Hell, yes!" you say, pumping your fist. "Look at my ring."

Everyone around you groans.

"Y/N, we looked at your ring so many times, I think if someone told me to resculpt it blindfolded, I could," Yoongi sighs. He half annoyedly half defeatedly grabs a can of beer and downs it.

"Shut up, Yoongi," Daehyung says. "Y/N, your ring is beautiful," she gushes. "Yoongi's just jealous because he's single."

"It's beautiful because I helped Seokjin pick it out," Yoongi argues. "Even though I'm single, I have excellent taste."

"You also have a cocky attitude," you giggle, admiring how the sparkling ring fits perfectly around your ring finger. "But thank you. I appreciate the advice you gave my fiancé."

"Can you believe a year ago, I didn't even know your name?" Seokjin laughs, nudging you. Giving him an ungrateful glare, you push him back.

"Wait, really?" Jungkook says, eyes wide. "I thought you guys were college besties."

"No, they met on a hookup app," Daehyung giggles.

"Seriously??" Yoongi says.

"It wasn't exactly a hookup app," you pout. "We didn't even hookup."

"It was too a hookup app," Daehyung says. "Tinder, to be exact."

Everyone except you and Seokjin gasps dramatically.

"Come to think of it," Yoongi says, "you two never told us how you met."

"Yeah, and if we tell you, you're going to embarrass the shit out of me and my future wife when you give the best man speech at the wedding," Seokjin frowns. "I'm not setting myself up for humiliation."

"I promise I'll keep it a secret!"

"Hey, I thought I was the best man!" Jungkook yells.

"You can be the flower girl," you snort.

"What?!" the young bachelor shrieks.

"Can everybody shut the fuck up so I can hear this story again?" Daehyung yells at the top of her lungs.

"Again??" Seokjin says curiously. "When did you hear it the first time?"

"Oh, Y/N was drunk," Daehyung giggles. "When she's drunk, she spills straight up tea."

"Oops," you say when your fiancé gives you a dirty look. "Why do we have to keep it a secret, anyway?"

"Because it's embarrassing."

"Yeah, embarrassing for you. I sound like a hero."

"Y/N saves the day?" Yoongi grins. "And Seokjin wrecks something? What's new?"

"I'm this close to making you the flower girl," the engaged man threatens.

Yoongi shuts up.

"Oh, come on, babe, let's tell them the story," you plead. "It's so funny!"

"Yeah, for you."

"Learn to laugh at yourself, Seokjin," Daehyung chastises. "Plus it wasn't even that humiliating."

"God!" Jin shrieks. "Yes it was humiliating!"

"Shut up, you big baby," you say, patting the head of your soon-to-be-husband. "I'll take the floor now."

"Oh, god," Jin groans.

You grin in response. "Okay, it all started senior year of college... Monday... November 14th, 8:02 p.m..."

"It did not start then," Seokjin argues.

"Stop being so petty," Jungkook snorts.

"Wait, no Jin's right. It didn't start then," you giggle apologetically. Seokjin facepalms. "It started a week and a few days before November 14th."

"Does the date really matter?" Yoongi groans.

"Yes," you, Seokjin, Jungkook and Daehyung chorus.

Yoongi shuts up—for the second time that day.

"Okay, where was I?" you mumble. "Oh, right! It all started..."

Tinder is an annoying bitch.

It keeps pairing you up with dudes you know in your class. You are not going to have a one night stand with a guy and be stuck in a group project with him the next day. You're going to avoid that awkward possibility for as much as you can.

You've used the "dating" app off and on in your college years, but it's never amounted to anything more than craptastic hookups and hectic morning afters. So you deleted it.

Until early November when you had to third wheel Daehyung and her boyfriend to a local fair. You were so bored and desperate that you re-downloaded Tinder and started swiping. There are way too many hot guys on one app. It makes you start to wonder where all the hot guys in your school are.

There are a few guys who match with you, but it's clear that they are massive dodo brains when they start off the conversation with a one-worded 'hi' or 'send nudes plz' or the worst: 'your beautiful.' With the wrong 'your' and all. You don't even answer them.

But one guy's messages catch your eyes.

[SEOKJIN]: Roses are red

[SEOKJIN]: Let's test my luck

[SEOKJIN]: We should get in bed

[SEOKJIN]: So we can—

The unfinished poem leaves you almost choking on your own spit. If that wasn't creative, you don't know what is. After background checking his profile, you realize he's one of those hotties. You wonder what on earth he's doing texting you, but you're not going to miss this amazing chance.

[Y/N]: Fuck?

Seokjin replies about three seconds later.

[SEOKJIN]: Oh no that's so vulgar

[SEOKJIN]: I was going to say cuddle :((

You giggle. Sort of a low-grade joke, but what can you say? You're a complete sucker for those.

It's hard to find men these days who are perfect texters. Most men are dry, sending in one-word answers and letting emojis talk for them. Other men write way too much. Seokjin is right in the middle. Already, he has your attention. (Especially because you like his humor.)

The two of you text back and forth until you're back home in your bed. You would've texted him more but it was 3:04 a.m. and you had class the next day.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach when Seokjin, a complete stranger, mind you, tells you, 'goodnight. sweet dreams.'

What follows is a week's worth of texting. You've been swiping and texting other guys on the side, but if Seokjin's available, you ditch everyone else.

You learn that Jin's a history major and he despises STEM with all of his guts. You let him go on a ten-minute rant on why math should die all because it's adorable how he has so much supporting evidence for his argument. Seokjin had to backtrack and apologize when he learned that you majored in physics, though, which was hilarious. You could feel him blushing via text.

The more you text Seokjin, the more you want to meet him in person. Also, his Tinder bio promises mind-blowing sex, so you're down for that too.

On a fateful day, you finally somehow schedule a meeting with the hot man. Monday, November 14th at 8 p.m. You're to meet at Seokjin's little apartment (which seemed to be in a safe neighborhood). You have fun picking your lingerie with Daehyung. (You kept saying Seokjin would be the type to like pink and lace, but Daehyung argued that he'd like scarlet red and leather. But you kicked her out of your room and chose the pink lace lingerie set anyway.)

It was an understatement to say you were excited about this. You were elated, insanely thrilled. Not only did you find a hookup partner, but also you found a man you could potentially see yourself dating.

Daehyung keeps telling you not to get your hopes too high because in her words, "You've never even met the goddamn dude." But you know a gem when you see one. Unlike Daehyung. She's been off and on with about four different guys since the beginning of college. What does she know about love??

In the end, you want to be more than hookup material to Seokjin. But of course, that would be after you get laid tonight. The flirty wink faces and jokes were indicative that tonight would be a very, very enjoyable night. You just have to get to his apartment on time.

At precisely 8:02 p.m., you knock on his door. Okay, you were going to knock on his door when you originally got there (at 7:56 p.m.), but after consulting Daehyung, she said that it's better to make men wait. For once, her advice kind of makes sense. So you wait six minutes and then knock on his door.

"Oh shit!" you hear from the apartment.

You raise your eyebrows. He was expecting you, right?

"Just a second!!"

His voice is much smoother and more delicate than you thought.

You're dreaming about finally seeing his beautiful face in person when the door opens. Damn. He's really, really hot. You feel on fire just looking at him. But you quickly see that the man is panting. He's also sweating.

"O-Oh, is this a bad time?"

"Fuck," Seokjin curses. He runs his finger through his silky black hair. "Uh..." He trails off, eyes darting below to see just a sliver of your pink lace lingerie set peeking out from under your black coat. He gulps. You can see his Adam's apple bob. He exudes this warm, chaotic energy you wouldn't have expected from someone who looks so well-put-together as him. But you kind of find that hot.

"Okay, change of plans," Seokjin finally gasps out. He tugs you in his apartment and holds out a good stack of papers. "College happened."

You laugh. "What??"

"Okay, remember when I told you I fucking hate math?"

"Yes??" The ten-minute rant—how could you forget something so iconic?

"Well, I made a huge mistake of taking accounting this year and now I'm behind on five assignments that are all due tomorrow—"

"Oh god."

"Don't worry. I'm going to get it all done. So we can uh..." Seokjin glances at your scandalous outfit behind the confines of your coat. "Finish the rest of my poem."

"In that case..." You roll up your long sleeves. "Do you have a t-shirt I can borrow?"

"Y-Yeah," Seokjin says. He dashes away and after a split second, he comes back with a navy, oversized t-shirt. "Here."

"Thank you!" you chirp. "Now," you say, tying your hair up in a messy bun and gesturing toward the heap of paper Seokjin is holding, "I took accounting two years ago, but I'm sure I remember all the essential stuff. Wanna get to work?"

Seokjin looks at you like you're an angel.

"Shut up!" Jungkook laughs so hard he almost falls over. "You're telling me that you were going to get laid, but you got cockblocked by Seokjin's procrastination??"

"Yes! I know!" you snort. "But it's a good thing I can actually do math. Unlike Mr. I-hate-math-so-much-I-barely-do-my-homework, here."

"In my defense..." Seokjin trails off. "I don't have an excuse, actually."

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Did you finish the assignments, though?"

"Why are you guys asking the irrelevant questions?" Daehyung sighs. "Shouldn't you guys ask if Y/N got laid like she was supposed to??"

Seokjin grumbles. "We finished the assignments in three hours."

"We??" you say incredulously.

"Okay, fine. Y/N did more than half of it because I had no idea what was going on."

"And I did get laid!" You pump a victorious fist in the air. "But it was really late and I fell asleep before we even got to the good part."

"So she got properly laid in the morning," Seokjin snickers. "And it was so good she left after having breakfast."

"I think I fell for him because he can cook so well," you laugh. "And he felt extra bad about the night before so he made a three-course breakfast meal."

"Oh my god, men who finesse in the kitchen," Daehyung gushes. "Why haven't I caught a case like that yet?"

"Your personality is your birth control, bro," Jungkook snorts. "I thought you knew."

"I will shove a pregnancy test up your fucking ass," Daehyung threatens.

"How do you know I won't like how that feels?"

"SHUT UP!" Yoongi screams. "DON'T PAINT THAT PICTURE IN MY HEAD."

You and Seokjin give each other another look. Ever since you introduced Daehyung to Seokjin's two best friends, it's been... uh, chaotic. At this point, you're not sure if your friends argue out of pure love or pure hatred.

But the fact that Jungkook uses the same flirting tactics of a pre-teen boy explains a lot about his relationship with Daehyung.

"At this rate, do you even want these people at the wedding?" Seokjin whispers jokingly.

"I heard that!" Daehyung shrieks. "I will be at the wedding whether you want it or not!"

"Don't worry," you laugh. "You're going to be my maid of honor!"

"Whew," Daehyung sighs. "Since I'm your maid of honor can I uninvite Jeon Jungkook for being an asshole?"

"Hey!"

"No, we're putting you two in the same table at the afterparty dinner," Seokjin grins. "And Yoongi, you'll be there to witness the madness."

"Lovely," the sarcastic man gripes.

"Exactly!" you say.

But it is lovely indeed.

You never thought your ability to zoom past accounting assignments would ever come to use. Until Seokjin opened up a whole new door for you. Sure, you wanted a plain ol' hookup, but instead of getting dick, you got yourself a boyfriend. And now a fiancé.

If you think about it, now you have an endless supply of dick—all from the same, magnificent man. So it all worked out in the end.

Before all of your friends leave after the friendly gathering, you tug Yoongi to the side and pay him a hundred bucks to retell the hilarious story in his best man speech. Once money is involved, Yoongi will do anything.

Sure enough, on the faithful day of the wedding, and quite to Seokjin's horror, Yoongi tells the story of how you and Seokjin had first met—leaving out explicit details to save the ears of the older guests. But the story leaves everyone in tears of laughter.

Seokjin is so enamored by the attention that he doesn't even get angry at Yoongi.

"I'm glad I took that stupid accounting class!" he announces at the afterparty. "If it hadn't been for Professor Le Chory and his endless assignments, I would've never met my wife!"

And when the party's over and the two of you go off to your shared apartment to rest before going on your honeymoon trip to Yeousu, Seokjin clears his throat.

"Yes??" you say, giggling as Seokjin shyly fidgets with his hands. "Did you break something again?"

"No!" he says. "I just thought of another poem."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Wanna hear it?"

"Sure. But if this keeps up, you'll become a poet, Jin."

"I know," your husband grins. He takes a deep breath and recites the poem from memory, closing his eyes as he concentrates on each word.

Roses are red,

You are now my wife,

We should sleep in bed,

So tomorrow, and until forever, I'll show you the time of your life.

With Seokjin, life is spontaneous. But you don't really mind. Living in the moment and changing your plans as they go isn't too bad.

Especially when you wake up the next morning and Seokjin announces instead of Yeousu, the two of you will embark on a journey to Jeju instead.

Perfect. You've always wanted to visit Jeju Island.

masterlist

[letsperaltiago]

one single thread of gold tied me to you

From the very first time Jake mentions her name, Karen sees a thread of gold tying him to Amy. In other words: a series of small moments in which Jake is talking to Karen about Amy.

or

Jake talking to Karen about Amy throughout their relationship

Read here or on AO3 

The new girl

“Anything exciting happening at work?”

“Nah,” Jake halts, pausing to think between bites of the dinner Karen has prepared for the two of them. Because he’s the only child (and the fact that he’s a huge momma’s boy) he tries to stop by Karen’s once a week. Either for a quick chat and a coffee or longer. If the latter includes dinner, which it often does, then it’s always a huge plus. Tonight’s visit is one of the longer ones, much needed, and of course dinner is a must.

“Or,” he takes back his prior dismissal. “Like, this new girl joined the squad last week, so that’s… exciting, I guess?”

Karen’s head perks up letting her son know that she’s indeed listening.

“Well that’s always a good thing. What’s her name?”

By then Jake is already busy chewing on another bite of her mom’s baked potatoes - a personal favorite of his. Then again any food his mom makes is his favorite.

“Amy Santiago. She seems cool enough, I guess. Then again she just arrived so I guess I’ll have to see.”

Although the world, more specifically Jake, isn’t aware of it yet, the spinning of his and Amy’s golden thread commences its journey here. Karen smiles to herself as this, she realises, is the perfect opportunity for her to pick a bit on her son who’s never shy of teasing her. Lovingly, of course.

“Maybe she’s cool enough to date?”

The statement immediately interrupts his before eager chewing, a press on his entire body’s pause button, and earns Karen a deadpan expression as answer to her so-called proposition.

“Mom, please.”

There’s small smile on his face as he knows his mom is out to pester him. “Charles already went all Cupid on us when she arrived, so the last thing she needs is me hitting on her. Plus,” he’s back to being chewing on a mix of potatoes and meat, “I don’t even know her.”

“Well that’s just a matter of time, honey.”

Having nothing else to add he figures a shrug must be answer enough.

“Anyways,” he looks back up from his plate to his mother. “How’s Carla?”

Rivalling close friends

For her son’s birthday Karen has invited the squad over to her place for a celebratory dinner. At this point, since they’re good at dropping by if they’re ever in her neighbourhood or nearby for work, she’s familiar with most of the people Jake spends 95% of his time with - this with an exception of Amy and Holt.

They’re setting the table while Jake gives her one last quick rundown of the 99th precinct’s squad, so Karen is sure of who the different people are.

“… And Amy, besides Holt, is the last one to have joined the squad. She’s that super neat, kinda annoying one, I’ve told you about. You know, the one who tells me that I can’t eat in her car, and constantly corrects my grammar.”

“I thought you liked her?” He can’t see tell, since he’s busy setting the table, but Karen frowns finding it unlikely that her son suddenly has something against a colleague he most of the time spoke so highly of.

“I do, mom and that’s what’s so annoying. She’s the worst and best of all worlds...” He pauses in the middle of putting down a plate giving himself some time to turn over his thoughts. “… I mean, she probably is my best friend at this point, besides Charles, yanno? But please don’t tell him I said that. His little heart can’t take it.”

“Because of jealousy or because he’s dying to see you and Amy together?”

“Both,” Jake chuckles shaking his head in disbelief of the fact that he puts up with this situation daily.

Karen knows Jake’s “brother from another mother”, how the little man had introduced himself the first time she met him, very well  and can’t hold back a chuckle at the very vivid mental picture of a both jealous but also over the moon Charles.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

It brings an even wider smile to his face upon seeing his mother pretending to lock her lips and throw away an invisible key. Okay, maybe his mom is his best friend, but Amy and Charles are a close second.

Sadly Amy has fallen sick and never makes it to the birthday dinner, but upon arrival Rosa hands him a pretty gift bag with a tiny card and impeccable handwriting that says: Happy birthday, Pineapples ;) Inside the bag he finds the limited edition Die Hard 2: Die Harder-poster that had smashed his heart to pieces when someone had outbidded him for it on eBay. Little had he known it was Amy, sitting just a few feet away by her desk opposite of him, who’d outdone his bid with a sly smirk on her face. A smile which she could hide behind the big computer screen.

The smile on his face is impossible to hide and he immediately sends her a text:

‘ur gift made me die hard!!! guess ur not so bad after all ;) all kidding aside thank u so much and get well soon <3’

Later that night after everyone has left, he’s helping his mom cleaning the kitchen. Suddenly she hands over a homemade doggy bag with leftovers from the dinner.

“Don’t you think sweet, sick Amy deserves this after the gift she gave you?”

Her smirk doesn’t go unnoticed.

Jake of course agrees and later, on his way home, he drops it off at Amy’s place. It being late and not wanting to wake her up, he leaves it on her doorstep and sends her a text for her to see whenever she wakes up:

‘the bag on ur doorstep is not a bomb but a care package from mother peralta. hope ur feeling better but if u dont can i have your desk at work?’

A few days later Karen texts him a picture of a beautiful thank you card with the infamous, neatly Santiago style-written message thanking her for the thoughtful gesture. Jake smiles to himself and replies with a simple: ‘shes a good 1’

Unconsciously developing feelings

He never explicitly tells her. Still, Karen has her suspicions and they only grow every time her son mentions Amy’s name. Sooner rather than later it becomes very clear to her: her son would go to great lengths for his partner - even though he isn’t ready to acknowledge it yet.

“Mom, there’s no way I’m losing my car to her. I’m gonna take her on a date and she’s going to hate it and i’m going to love it- I mean… love her misery,” he corrects himself.

Karen is leaning against the doorframe to his still unaltered childhood bedroom, where Jake is currently rummaging through boxes containing a mix of childhood memories, dust and worthless nick-nack.

“You don’t happen to still have those old pictures of me and Jenny Gildenhorn, do you? I want to find an exact replica of Jenny’s hideous blue dress to torture Amy with.”

Knowing of Jake’s repressed, yet to be realised feelings, because a mother does know best, Karen rolls her eyes. He doesn’t notice. Probably because he has his head buried under his bed looking for more boxes and childhood treasures. Telling him to look for acknowledgement of his feelings for Amy while he’s down there is almost too tempting, but Karen manages to bite her lip. Hopefully he’ll see it himself one day… Or just keep talking the way he already does about her, even when complaining; it’s always with some kind of admiration. Karen sees the little twinkles in his eyes whenever the raven haired detective is brought up in a conversation.

To Amy’s sheer luck, Karen of course has loads of childhood pictures stored in a box in the garage and she gets to sit by knowingly as Jake searches multiple internet websites for the most horrible, blue, 80s dress possible. “Oh, mom… She’s going to hate this so much. Amazing.”

She doesn’t say anything but smiles knowingly as her son sits on her couch, laptop in his lap,  a boyish smile telling her that he is up to no good as he plans the (best) worst date for his “just a good friend”.

Pining

Everything seems harder at the moment. At least harder than what he’d like, Jake thinks to himself as he lies in bed, feeling tipsy from the few beers he had a Shaw’s. He knows he should just sleep but for some reason he can’t. Instead he tortures himself by staring at the ceiling which is definitely spinning - just a tiny bit though, he tries to convince himself.

He’s just come back from being undercover, and although it was kind of fun and definitely exciting in more ways than one, deep down inside he can’t deny that a tiny part of him had hoped Amy by now would give them a chance. It’s not that he’d expected her to break up with Teddy for him - it was her life to control after all. Not his. Although there was no shame in dreaming; dreaming that she’d welcome him back to the 9-9 with a slow motion run and kiss that would blow them both away, telling him that Teddy and his pilsners were out of the picture and that they belonged together;  all this time they’d been destined to belong to no one else but each other.

Alas this wasn’t the case and he returned from the mafia to a:

“I’m still with Teddy.”

The short sentence plays over and over in his head like a broken record he can’t turn off. The worst soundtrack of his life - without a doubt. Suddenly his phones rings, interrupting his spiralling thoughts.

“Hi, Mom,” he mumbles not hiding the fact that he’s exhausted, physically as well as mentally, and tipsy.

“Hi, honey. How did your first day back go?”

“It was... fine. Good to see everyone.”

Good to see Amy, Karen thinks before she does a double take when she picks up on her son’s voice clearly representing a moody side of him she, or anyone, rarely gets to see.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing, It’s-” he starts out not wanting to get into it, because feelings are messy and he always ends up being the hurt one anyways…  But on the other hand, he thinks, his mom will figure out either way - if she hasn’t already. Perhaps his lack of soberness also takes part in his sudden honesty.

“Amy,” he sighs.

“Is everything all right with her?”

“Yeah, she’s fine. I just-” he pauses. “She’s with this guy and-”

“You wish she wasn’t?” Karen beats him to it and finishes the sentence for him.

“Yeah or- I don’t know. I want her to be happy but...” he sounds utterly defeated to a point that hints at teary, she can tell even though she can’t see him. In that moment Karen wants nothing more than hug her little boy. “I really like her, mom.”

His voice never breaks entirely but it’s a fine line he’s walking throughout the entire conversation. Everything pours out of him; he’s a book of sentimental secrets opening up about his Achilles’ heel for the first time and all his mother can do is listen as he describes his favorite parts of Amy (which is pretty much everything): everything from the way her dark ponytail swings back and forth with purpose when she walks to a crime scene to how, when they’re out drinking with the squad, she always get him a beer whenever she gets up to get herself one.

It’s almost as if the spinning of the golden thread, still unknown to the world, between him and Amy is slowly choking him.

“I want her to be happy, mom… I just-” he almost dozes off before finishing the sentence but fights through it and it’s all at once incredibly endearing and heartbreaking to Karen who’s still listening from her end of the line.

“... I just wish she would be happy with me instead.”

New couple

It’s truly unbelievable. Jake can’t believe he’s about call his mom to tell her: tell her that he’s with Amy now.  

It’s been a month now; a month of him being with Amy and being so very happy he still can’t believe he’s been spending all this time not feeling like this. However, not wanting to rush things or put any pressure on either of them, simply enjoying being together, no one else but the squad knows about them.

Them. Him and Amy. A thing.

Just thinking about him and Amy that way, it almost makes him dizzy of pure disbelief. There had been so much buildup, such a long history of back and forth, bad timing, but all that aside now here they were. Amy Santiago was his girlfriend. Maybe that is the thought that causes his heart to take on a way too quick beating pattern and the hand holding his phone to become clammy. Now is the time though and he doesn’t hesitate to hit his mom’s contact. It rings. Jake can clearly hear his heart thump loudly against his ribcage. Should he be this nervous?

One time.

Two times.

Thre-

“Hi, honey,” his mom’s warm chipper voice interrupts the monotone ringing instantly making his lips spread into a small smile and heart take a break from the irrational thumping.

“Hey, mom,” he starts pacing around his apartment in attempt of diverting all the energy and emotions rushing through him, unconsciously bringing him everywhere from his bed to his kitchen.

“So it’s actually been a little while now… And I haven’t said anything since I didn’t want to rush anything but,” he cuts the sentence in two with a deep breath. “So, like… Amy and I are dating... together... her and I,” he starts rambling and wow he really should’ve written this down first. Karen doesn’t let it go on for too long though too excited to not say anything.

“Honey, I’m so so happy for you two! And it was about time that you finally told me!”

Jake’s pacing stops on the spot.

“What do you mean “finally”?”

“Oh, Jake... Sometimes I think you forget that mothers know everything. Plus you’re not very good at hiding… bruises,” she clears her throat, emphasizing what she’s really saying while imagining her son blush on his end of the line. “Also you’ve been visiting less and less, which means someone else has to take up your time.Someone who is even cooler than your very own mom, someone who makes you this gitty and nervous to talk about… It had to be her you were calling about.”

The smile in her voice is clear as day, but Jake is still baffled trying to come up with an explanation or the very least a decent answer. There is none, he quickly abandons the plan and instead lets out a happy huff.

“She’s really cool, mom. So cool. The last month has been like… the best. I don’t know how else to describe it. She’s the best.”

Compared to the defeated and heartbroken man she spoke to all those months ago, after his return from being undercover, this is a whole new version of her son that she’s longed to see. Karen can’t physically see him but can still clearly tell he’s flipped the page and is taking on a better chapter of his life.

Early relationship

It’s another night at his mom’s. Although the motivation behind the visit is a tiny bit different than usual this time. Sure, they’re gonna talk and have a nice dinner prepared by Karen as per usual, although tonight the mother has to nurse a whiny Jake who’s missing his dear but very out of town for the week-girlfriend. And the experience feels… mixed.

“Dinner is ready!”

No response.

She looks up from where she’s just carefully put down a sizzling pan to see her son back against the one arm of her armchair with his legs svung over the other. Physically he might be close but mentally he’s so far away, clearly more focused on whatever is going on on his phone’s screen.

“Jake,” she tries again but rather than giving his mother a reply Jake start typing as if nothing or noone was within miles of him. Karen can’t help but feel like she’s raising a teenager all over again, a teenager with the attention span of a goldfish, although this time her son is actually in his late 30s, lives by himself and has a girlfriend. So little yet so much has changed about him.

“Jacob,” she tries with her more more stern voice. She knows what he’s doing, texting Amy, and even though it’s cute he needs to snap out of it. At least for long enough to eat. He finally reacts and looks in her direction. Realization hits him which immediately prompts him to push himself out of the seat.

“If you stop eating you won’t even be alive to see her when she comes back.”

He deserves to be teased, he figures.

“I’m sorry. It was a text from Amy and I just wanted to reply right away. I just really miss her, I guess... and this is the closest we’ll get to talking today since she’s busy with her family, so...”

He leaves his phone behind on the coffee table, implicitly letting his mother know she’s got his (somewhat) full attention from now on.

“It’s so weird. We’ve only been together for like...” he counts in his head. “... 5 months now, but I already can’t stand being away from her for too long. Am I insane?” he drops down into his usual seat by the dinner table, almost in defeat but Karen is quick to rescue him in his moment of overdramatic despair.

“No you’re not, I assure you.”

Karen grabs his hand to stroke it comfortingly. She knows her son didn’t mean to be rude, didn’t mean to ignore her and she loves how much he’s opened up about his emotions since getting together with Amy.

“It’s a good sign that you care so much, but just remember that distance makes the heart grow fonder and it’ll feel even better when she comes back… and until then you can let your old mom entertain you.”

They share a chuckle because they both know what that means.

“Did you get ice cream?” he asks.

“Strawberry, chocolate chip and cookie dough… and to top it off: Die Hard is ready to play the second we’re done eating and doing the dishes.”

It’s a little tradition of theirs: their shared comfort snack plus movie-combo.

“You know me so well,” Jake smiles almost forgetting about missing Amy.

If not for the rest of the week then at least for a couple of hours.

Going steady

This week is a a lot different from the usual. While it’s not every single week they actually manage to see each other or even get the time to talk, Karen knows for sure that she won’t hear from her son for at least a couple of days. Jake is away on a cruise with Amy, and so besides the few pictures he’s texted her of them eating shrimp in bed (she wonders how he talked Amy into that) and a huge seagull stealing some of Amy’s fries, Karen doesn’t expect a whole lot of her son’s attention that week.  

Which is why she is extremely surprised when her phone rings, her son’s picture and name displayed on her phone, in the middle of the night. Yes, the element of surprise is of course due to the fact that she knows he’s busy being away with Amy, but also much due the time at which he calls.

01:21

A mother’s undeniable fear and worry for her child never goes away, no matter how old said child is, and it now creeps in making her fear that the worst has happened. What could possibly lead him to call this late? She frantically grabs her phone from her night stand.

“Jake, it’s in the middle of the night. Is everything okay?” She doesn’t mean to come off as accusing but she’s definitely trying to get to the bottom of the mystery right away.

“I love her.”

It falls from his lips, very out of nowhere, and it’s hard to tell within what context it is to be interpreted. Interlacing with his voice is the sound of crashing waves and a strong breeze making Karen wonder where her son finds himself.

“Honey, what do you mean? Where are you?”

Maybe she should’ve understood right away, it was obvious, but not only was she sleeping just seconds ago but the background noise on his end of the line only makes the whole scene way more confusing than it already is.  

He breathes, out of breath almost as if he’s been running. “I’m outside. On the deck. And I love her, mom.”

“The deck?”

“No,” he pauses catching his breath. “Amy. I told her… Or she told me first and then I told her back. Nothing has ever felt more right.”

That makes way more sense, Karen thinks although still quite unsure of exactly why he’s calling her. All that aside her heart is flooded with happiness, when she realises her son is not out of breath from running or crying, but rather all the emotions he must be feeling.

“Aw, Jake. I’m so happy for you. I know how much she means to you.”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah… You’ve changed so much throughout your relationship with Amy and it’s only for the better. You were already wonderful, you’re my son after all, but she brings out so much more good in you. This was only a matter of time. I think you’ve loved her for longer than you think.”

Another silence allows the crashing waves and whistling night wind to make an appearance. Following words almost fall off his lips in a tremble but Karen can tell it’s because he’s moved and is trying to collect himself, his emotions and thoughts. This is a big step for him - she knows.

“I have. And I don’t think I wanna stop again.”

Their talk lasts a few more minutes; just long enough for Jake to explain that he couldn’t sleep, too excited about the fact that he loved Amy Santiago and, even better, she loved him! Instead of staying in bed, restless and thus risking waking up Amy, he’d carefully disentangled himself from his girlfriend’s grip and decided to go for a night stroll. Next thing he knew he was calling his mom’s number.

“I should probably go, mom. I don’t want Amy to wake up alone.”

They say their goodbyes and when Karen finally gets to meet his daughter-in-law a few weeks later, at Jake’s chaotic birthday dinner, she is even more sure: their golden thread is so very strong.

Moving in together

The first time Karen visits Jake and Amy’s apartment (the words still make his stomach twist and turn with excitement every time he says it or even thinks it), Amy is out getting groceries for the dinner they’ll all be preparing together.

Jake proudly gives his mom a full apartment tour explaining where he’s added his Peralta-touch to the household while still praising his girlfriend’s taste in interior design. She has to laugh at the huge Die Hard poster discreetly hung on the inside of their closet door. Framed pictures of the couple together hung and standing around the apartment only makes Karen’s heart melt even more.

“How are you guys liking living together so far?”

They’re in the kitchen, Jake is preparing them both a cup of coffee.

“I mean, we already took constant turns crashing at the other’s place so it doesn’t feel that brand new, but still…” he pauses to smile and pours his mother a hot cup of freshly brewed coffee before continuing. “This is so much better. We share a home now. She is officially my home now, yanno?”

“I’m proud of you, Jakey,” Karen playfully ruffles her son’s curly hair, something she rarely gets to do but still immensely enjoys every time. It reminds her of when he was still a little kid and hits her with just how far he’s become. She’s not just proud: she’s so proud.

“Plus, now I get to annoy her 24/7, which is great,” he laughs and Karen playfully pinches his ear.

“Be nice to her, Jacob,” she’s chuckling too.

“I am! Our relationship is practically built on a foundation of pestering and messing with each other. Trust me; she loves it.”

Prison

“Amy… I miss her so much.”

As if the fact that her son has been wrongly accused and is facing 15 years in prison isn’t agonizing enough, Karen also has to suffer the pain it causes her to hear her son cry out to her over the very rare phone calls they get these days.

“When I say I’m afraid of never getting out of here-” he heaves between fallen, sobbed words; sobbed words which Karen knows he tries to subdue in order to not show the other inmates weakness. But it’s hard; impossible. “It’s mostly because I’m afraid of not seeing her again. Every time she visits-,” a sniffle “I’m always afraid that it’s the last time I see her. And all I wanna do is kiss her and hold her, but i just- I can’t. I miss her so so much, mom.”

Karen’s heart breaks alongside her son’s, even hours and miles between them, tears rolling down her red cheeks. She knows she has to be strong for him, and that it’s harder for him than for herself. Denying the ache and fear in every cell of her body is impossible though… But she has to keep her head up for him.

“It’ll be okay, honey,” Karen forces herself to stop crying when she speaks and will instead let the tears fall freely whenever he can’t hear it. “The squad is doing everything they can to get you out.”

“I know... “ he takes a deep breath and Karen can tell he’s trying to collect himself for good this time. “H-how is she?”

For a split second Karen considers lying, not telling him that she’s spent multiple nights consoling a crying Amy and even sleeping over at their place when the young woman was too tired to take care of herself. She considers telling him she’s fine, but she knows it’s pointless: Jake and Amy are two open books who tell each other everything. Just like Amy knows Jake has never been more afraid and seeks hope in every second he gets to be with or even just talk to her, Jake knows Amy is struggling though she’s a trooper and tries to fight through it as seamlessly as possible.

“I visited her on Wednesday and…” Karen bites her lip but eventually a sigh escapes her. “You know how she feels... It’s hard for both of you. But she’s strong, honey and she manages. And on the days where she can’t, I’m there with her. I promise.”

Silence.

He’s holding back tears again.

“I love you both, mom. So so much. You two are what is going to get me through this.”

“I love you too, Jacob.”

Their golden thread might be strained, but now is time for it to show its strength.

Engaged

He can’t put it into words, at least not properly, because how does one describe how it feels to be the happiest man alive? How does one describe such a wide, complex, incredible range of emotions? It’s impossible.

Instead he settles for a text.

It’s truly comical but also very much them: a picture of Amy in the evidence locker, still partially crying although of course also smiling as she shows off the shiny ring on her finger. It’s followed by the message:

‘MOM, I’M MARRYING HER!!!’

Later that night, tipsy after celebrating at Shaw’s, Jake and Amy facetime Karen. It’s safe to say that she gets a good laugh at 3-drink Amy showing off her new, favorite bling while Jake is all over her, placing small kisses to various parts of her face.

“Okay, you two... I’m going to hang up before this goes beyond a PG-rating. Once again congratulations. I love you both and can’t wait to see you soon.”

Married

Bomb threats, ruined cakes and a lost veil are just a few of the things that go horribly wrong on Jake and Amy’s wedding day.

Now, a few weeks later, all these tiny disasters seem to be long forgotten, almost as if they’d never happened.

“... But in the end we’re married and that’s all that matters,” Jake finishes telling his mother the tale of their chaotic but incredibly beautiful and unique wedding which was followed by a PG-rated version of their trip to Mexico.

The three of them are taking up the space of Karen’s living room as they chat and drink their usual coffee. Jake’s arm is slung around his new wife’s shoulders, fingers interlaced with a happiness and peace that warms the mother’s heart. Compared to the anxiety and sadness they all experienced during Jake’s time in Florida and then later on in prison, this moment in time is a major contrast. It’s a moment which Karen at times had feared she’d never be able to witness ever again. Yet here they were, the three of them together in the same room and Jake looked happier than ever. He was married to the love of his life, showing off a warm glow that he could thank both happiness and the Mexican sun for.

“I’m so happy for you two. It was always meant to be this way.”

Karen beams just as much as the married couple, feeding off the pure bliss they display in each other’s company. Amy perks up at the comment growing curious.

“Always?” she questions with a smile.

“The second he told me that the new girl was “pretty cool”, I knew something was meant to happen.”

Jake feels blood rushing to his cheeks even though said new girl is now his wife.

“Aw, babe,” Amy turns to him flashing a teasing grin. Every opportunity to tease must be put to good use. “I can’t believe you’ve been into me for so long. How embarrassing for you.”

“Hey!” He whines and it’s clear to see that he’s trying to fight the blush and embarrassment alas it’s already way too late. ”Be nice to your husband, Mrs. Peralta.”

“Not my fault that you’re so into me, Mr. Peralta.”

There’s a short pause in the conversation where Jake realises there’s no way out unless he uses her own teasing ways against her.

“I’m a lucky man… I guess,” he counters playfully and it earns him a just as playful slap to the shoulder.

“You guess?”

Amy is quick to pull away  although doesn’t allow their fingers to untangle while she sends him a mock-pout.

“Be nice, Jake.”

Karen loves her son but will also, at any given time, take Amy’s side before his. Jake came to learn this the second he introduced the two women and they started gossiping about him. He would care to mind if it wasn’t for the fact that there was nothing better than his two favorite women getting along so well.

“I’m joking, babe,” he loses no time and before Amy can add anything he’s pulled her back into the nook of his arm, adding a kiss the top of her head - just for good measure (and because he’s crazy about her). “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

Their golden thread has tied an everlasting knot.

Trying

Jake and Amy trying for a baby had been such a joyous announcement, and Karen will never forget the proud look on her son’s face the day he told her. Although tonight, said proud and happy expression is long gone, forgotten and dissolved by the many months of planning, trying and holding on to their hope.

Jake is once again, as so many times before, on his mother’s sand-colored couch with warm coffee in hand but this time with a look of despair painted across his pale face. While she’s been getting cookies in the kitchen he’s fallen into deep thought and doesn’t say anything for a while. Even after she comes back and sits down across from him. The silence might be needed, Karen thinks and, of course, respects it. That doesn’t mean it doesn’t shake her to the core when the next thing he says seems to question every ounce of happiness he’s ever lived.

“What if all along I’ve been the wrong choice? A bad choice.”

His eyes doesn’t budge from the same spot, an old coffee stain on the couch, he’s been staring emptily at for the past minutes. Even as he speaks.

“What if she was supposed to be with someone else. Someone who can give her the family she wants… the family she deserves.”

It doesn’t even sound like a question at this point but rather a horrible fact he states in a moment of frustration and agony, and it ignites a fury within the mother because she knows it’s his anxiety and fear of abandonment speaking. She knows that their love is way bigger than that.

Things are far from easy right now. On the other hand Karen hasn’t witnessed them fight and overcome every obstacle imaginable, everything from a stupid mattress to being sent away to both Florida and prison, only to come to this. This isn’t the tip of the thread. A golden thread isn’t spun without reason. It’s spun for the fated.

“Has Amy ever made a bad choice?” she asks.

For the first time in a long time Jake actually looks at his mom. He pauses but she knows he doesn’t have to think. Karen knows that in his eyes Amy can do no wrong.

“No… I just-”

“Okay, so do you honestly think that her wanting and fighting for a baby with you is a bad choice? Even if it doesn’t come easy.”

There’s another silence, longer this time, which hopefully means that something resonates inside his head even though Karen knows it’s a dark and confusing place right now.

“No, I guess…”

“No, don’t say “you guess”. You know, Jake Peralta. You love Amy and she loves you. I know it seems like life keeps on throwing you curveballs and I wish it wasn’t so, but trust me when I say that it’s not because it’s a wrong or bad choice. You being with Amy is the best, most right doing I’ve ever witnessed, and I’m so proud of it. Stop doubting yourself. Your love is too good for that. You’re too good for that, honey.”

Her voice had started out a bit rough, just to make sure to get her point across, but by her the last sentence it has grown soft like butter and Jake can’t help but fall into his mother’s arms. He knows she’s right and it’s in moments like these that, moments where he wants to give up, he’s glad to have her to fight off his demons.

“I just want to give her everything she deserves, mom,” he mumbles into her shoulder, still holding on for dear life; so closely that Karen swears she can feel his heart breaking against her chest. “And I know I’ve been hesitant about it in the past, but now I just-”

Karen feels him let go of her and straighten his back. His eyes are shiny and there’s so much hope but also hurt in them.

“... I really want to be a dad. I really do. And then I wanna do it right.”

Karen knows what he’s hinting at and the sentiment is so valid even though she’s back together with Roger and their father-son relationship has grown stronger.  

“You will be, honey. One way or another,” she whispers and reaches out to stroke his cheek. “And you will be the best. I promise you.”

Pregnant

Mother knows best, Jake can’t help but think on the magical evening Amy tells him the best thing he’s ever heard: she’s pregnant. The world seems to flourish around him like never before.

Of course the first person he wants to tell is his mom, but him and Amy quickly agree on keeping the amazing news to themselves, or at least until their baby has hit the safety that the 12-week mark comes along with.

Until then Jake and Amy plan on how to break the news to Karen (and Roger, of course) and Jake almost can’t believe it when the day finally arrives. Their 12-week check was just yesterday, and to everyone’s relief and joy their baby is growing as they should and thriving in their mother’s womb. They both shed a tear and ask for an extra set of ultrasound pictures to give to the future grandparents - both on his and Amy’s side.  

During dinner with Karen and Roger the following day, Jake is on the verge of bursting, yelling out the news the very second his parents arrive. Although a humbling squeeze of the hand from his wife keeps him in check until dessert. Here the hand squeeze feels different and Jake knows now is the time.

“By the way,” Jake gets up and heads to the kitchen to get another tub of ice cream. “We have a little extra surprise for dessert…”

Roger and Karen frown in unison as both of them are yet to finish what’s already in their respective bowls. Jake ignores it and comes back with a tub of…

“Lime ice cream?” Roger asks, clearly confused by the very specific flavour.

“I didn’t even know that was a thing,” Karen chuckles, always being the one to lighten the mood.

“Well,” Jake smiles with content as he sits back down. “I promise you: you don’t wanna skip this part. It’s the best.”

And so of course Karen is quickly hands on, pulls off the lid and is ready to dig in with her spoon but halts the second she gets to take a good look at the bucket’s content: a small piece of paper. Neither her or Roger understand a thing, and being too preoccupied by their confusion they fail to notice the wide grins on the other couple’s faces.

Karen takes the leap and digs out the picture quickly noticing something scribbled onto it with neat handwriting - Amy’s, of course.

Hi, grandma and grandpa. I’m now 12 weeks old and the size of a lime! I can’t wait to meet you <3

Karen feels her heart skip a bit, maybe even stop entirely for multiple seconds and looks to Jake and Amy for some kind of approval or… she’s not even sure of what. All she’s sure of is that she’s on the brim of exploding. Her son nods biting down on his bottom lip in excitement, and when she flips the piece of paper she’s met by the most wonderful picture she’s ever seen: their future grandchild, tiny as can be, in black and white, and completely perfect.

Karen tears her eyes away from her grandchild to look at her son to be met by his almost trembling voice and shiny eyes.  

“Good thing my mom was right when she told me that I would be a dad some day.”

Jake’s eyes are so sincere with tears threatening to spill as he holds his mother’s gaze talking directly to her, and it’s safe to say there’s waterfall’s worth of happy tears that evening.

Welcoming mac

The day Mac is born Jake feels as if his heart is suddenly beating and living outside of his chest in the shape of his son. There’s so much love even before their son officially arrives, but nothing can possibly top the feeling of holding him in his arms feeling the infant’s hand wraps around Jake’s thumb. Love is shooting through the roof and up to the moon. Never before has Jake felt so much love for someone’s he’s just met before and it’s scary in the best way.

He’s sitting in an armchair by Amy’s hospital bed, his wife fast asleep after the most exhausting hours of her life, when the door to their room pops open. He doesn’t even bother looking up at first as he’s too busy gazing lovingly at the bundle of love in his arms.

“Oh my goodness.”

Jake head perks up immediately recognizing the sound of his mother’s voice. By now she’s closing the door behind her, quietly.

“Hi, mom. Come say hi.”

Karen can hear his smittenness in his voice and sits down on a smaller chair next to him to better see her brand new grandson. It’s immediately clear as day that the newest Peralta is the perfect mix of both parents. Chubby cheeks, dark hair, full lips and a nose she’s gonna want to kiss over and over again.

“Meet McClane. Mac for short,” Jake informs her stroking his son’s chubby cheek.

“It’s perfect,” Karen clucks and follows suit stroking Mac’s other cheek. “He’s beautiful, honey. You must be so proud. I know I am.”

For various obvious reasons Jake has always struggled with acknowledging pride - even when he’s clearly felt it, he’s found it difficult to say it out loud or fully believe it. Today is different though and he wants to scream it from the rooftops: he’s so freaking proud of his beautiful baby son and his incredible wife.

He smiles fondly as he nods in agreement.

“I really am, mom. Proud of myself but especially of Amy. I’ll explain it further later but I Amy went into labor at the precinct, I was out helping with the blackout and almost missed the birth. I just barely got there before Mac was born and Amy managed everything like a pro. I can’t believe I’ve made a human with her. She’s the best… I’m so lucky.”

Jake looks at Karen sensing that she’s going to speak.

“I can’t imagine any other person for you than her, and together you’ve formed a beautiful little family, honey. One to be very proud of, so don’t forget to give in to that feeling, okay?”

Karen hand travels from sleeping Mac’s cheek to her son’s curly hair, on a mission to stroke it like she always would when he was a child and it prompts Jake to lean his head onto her shoulder. From his new vantage point he looks back at Mac, then Amy.

They’re his whole world, his two ends meeting and Karen can only sit by to admire the scene before her. Never has Karen felt more sure of the fact that there was always one single thread of gold tying Jake to Amy.

(And Mac).

[bqstqnbruin]

Never Again

This took my forever to write, but in my defense, I was working on my lesson plan for my honors students on Monday morning. I still have more requests which I LOVE and will work on but I do have an assignment due on Tuesday on top of teaching so I might be slow because I have the attention span of a walnut and can’t sit and write for long periods of time without getting distracted by my phone.

I also have an idea for another story that I want to do set in Philadelphia, but I don’t want a flyer for the story and need a boy, so if you have an idea, send it!

BUT here it is and if you have requests, keep them coming I love this!

Here is the original request!

____________________

Enemies

You never thought you would have to see him again once he moved away to go play hockey somewhere else in the country. You didn’t even know what team he played for. When you moved to Columbus, Ohio, you found out who it was. 

“You’ve got to be kidding, right?” you hear as you turn around to face the doorway of your new office. The voice gave you chills; you thought you never had to hear it again.

You had just been hired as the social media director for the Columbus Blue Jackets. Hockey was ruined for you thanks to him, but this was the only job that gave you an offer, so you had to take it. You moved there from Burlington last week, and today was your first day. 

“Jesus Christ,” you say, seeing none other than Josh Anderson standing in the doorway. “Why are you here?” 

“I was told to come see the new social media director, why are you here?” he snaps.

“Apparently, you were told to come see me. They didn’t tell me I was going to be seeing an absolute ass.”

The two of you guys were friends at one point. When you guys were fifteen, he had begged you to go to his hockey game. He shot the puck at the net, but it went rogue. It ended up sailing over the glass and hitting you in the head. After the game, he didn’t even apologize for it. You asked him about it and he said it wasn’t his fault you got his by the puck he shot. That’s what started argument after argument between the two of you for the next two years before he left for hockey. The day he got drafted and left was the day you told yourself you would never have to talk to him again, and it was the best time of your life. You kept your promise and didn’t even think of him, talk about him, or hear his name.

Until today. 

“You’re still not over that? How old are you?” 

“The same age as you except I have the human decency to apologize to people if I do something wrong.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong to you, you just started yelling at me for no reason.”

“You shot the puck that gave me a concussion and took me out of school for three weeks. I almost had to repeat the school year!”

“Maybe if you actually paid attention to the game then you would have seen the puck and not let it hit you in the head.”

“Look,” you snap, trying to cut this off before someone heard the two of you fighting. One step out of line and you both knew it would be your job on the line a lot faster than his would be, “If we have to work together, we’re civil for that and no other reason. Deal?” 

“Fine, whatever,” he rolls his eyes. This is definitely going to be harder than it needs to be, “What am I supposed to be doing here.” 

“I’m supposed to be doing a player profile on you for Insta as a countdown of the days before the season. It’s 77 days out, and since you wear number 77, you’re today.” 

He takes a deep breath before sitting down in the chair opposite your desk, “So are we doing this in here? Or what do I need to be doing so this can be done as soon as possible?” 

You roll your eyes as you walk to the other side of your desk to find the memo that was sent to you this. “It looks like the two of us are going to on the ice and in the locker room, so you need to have your jersey on and get up there in the next half hour.”

“Fine.” he says, getting up to leave, “See ya in half an hour, Y/N.” 

At least you could be civil.

Half an hour later, you were surprised to see he had actually listened to you.

“Hey, my name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m one of the newest members of the Blue Jacket’s family. I’m here today to get to know your one and only Josh Anderson, and everything I learn, you guys get to learn, too!” You put on your fake cheery attitude knowing that you had to be with him. “So, Josh,” you turn the camera towards him, “the first thing we want to know is about your childhood relationship to hockey.” You just have to follow the script you were given, you can’t imagine that you would have any reason to deviate from it.

“Uh, well, like pretty much every hockey player, I was skating when I was young, playing on youth teams my entire life and dreamed of playing in the NHL. My best and my worst memories are related to the rink.”

“Best and worst?” There’s that deviation.

“Best would be winning the Calder Cup in 2016, helping get the Jackets to the second round of the playoffs in 2019. Worst would be losing, obviously,” he laughs and sighs, “And a 

good friendship ended because of hockey.”

Friends

“C’mon, Anderson, show the people what they want!” You yell from the bench. The boys had morning practice in Calgary, and you were in charge of the social media, that being your job and all. You were trying to get Josh to come over and say ‘hi’ to the fans; every time he was on camera, the socials were blowing up with comments. He was one of the most requested players to appear besides PLD and Alexander. 

Josh was purposefully skating away from you as you tried to get him on camera. You got a video of him looking directly at you as you called his name, him laughing, and skating away. You captioned it “Andy’s shy today” with the emoji that has the single tear. 

The season was almost up. Because of how much time you and Josh had spent faking being nice to each other, you actually started to be nice to each other. You would even say that the friendship you had when you were younger was back. 

Pierre-Luc came up to you instead. “Can I get you saying hi to the Jacket’s fans?” You beg, “Josh is being an ass.” 

“Of course, get my good side,” he says, striking a pose. You burst out laughing, pulling up the camera. Giving him the thumbs up, he starts, “”Hi Blue Jackets fans! Thanks for your support, we’re looking forward to getting two points against the flames tonigh-” he jets cut off by Josh sneaking up behind him and scaring him, pushing him a little closer to you. “Josh!” he yells, both of them laughing, Josh nearly falling over.

“That’s going on the story.” You say, trying to catch your breath. “I thought you didn’t want to be on the story!” 

“Once I saw pretty boy over here flirting with you, I had to come stop it obviously. You know what they say about us hockey players: you get close to them only to hit you in the head with a puck.” He teases. He winks at you, skating away once the coach calls his line. 

“Flirting?” you tease. PLD would never.

“If anyone was flirting, it was him with you. That’s all he ever does.” 

“No, he doesn’t,” you argue, “We just got back to being friends from being literal enemies.”

“What are you guys talking so intensely about?” Alexander comes over to get some water.

“I don’t think intensely is the right word there,” you say quietly.

“Josh and Y/N always flirting.” Pierre-Luc spits out.

“Oh, yeah. Everyone knows about that.”

Lovers

“Alright, guys. Tonight we’re coming into some of your rooms so fans can see what it’s like on the road. So that means you can’t be disgusting or rude, so, basically, don’t be yourselves.” You tell the team once everyone is on the bus. Tonight the guys were staying over in Tampa Bay before their game tomorrow. The guys start screaming about being crude.

“So does this mean you won’t be in Anderson’s room tonight?” Zach teases, causing the entire bus to erupt in laughter, resulting in more crude comments.

Josh became your best friend on the team, and the guys knew that. They saw you turn from enemies to friends since you started last season. They also were all convinced that you and Josh were going to end up together, and they made no effort in hiding that.

“No, but it can mean that I can have you benched for being insubordinate to game day staff.” You shoot back with a smile, “If the Bruins can do it to Seguin for missing team breakfast.” All the guys start screaming again as Zach turned bright red. The bus started moving, but you had to keep talking so the guys knew what they had to do two hours after check-in, “So, I need the ok from Werenski, MacInnis, Merzlikins, Anderson, and Atkinson. If not I have backups, but these are who the fans voted on for this.”

The boys all say ok, still getting teased for having Josh on the list, but it was the fans who decided that, not you. You sit down in your seat near the front with the rest of the staff to feel your phone buzzing in your jacket.

“Please let me go last.” Josh sends you with the praying hands emoji.

“Fine,” you send back, “But that just means your room has to be the best.” 

You take the free time to prep what you’re going to ask each of the boys. The questions are supposed to be minimal and different; the guys are supposed to show the fans what they want to show them.

Werenski was a pain in your ass, as always. He kept teasing about Josh the entire time; it took you almost an hour to get in and out of his room and get enough footage for the video that you had to make before the team was done with the roadie in five days. MacInnis was no problem, but only gave you maybe five minutes of something usable. Merzlikins was an angel, as always, Atkinson was no problem, but it took three hours to get through the four of them. You were exhausted by the time you texted Josh that you were on your way to his room. 

“Your teammates are a pain in my ass,” you say walking into his room. You look around his weirdly clean and neat room, “You never keep your hotel room like this. When we were in Dallas it looked like a tornado hit within five minutes of you getting your key card.” 

“I want to present well to the fans,” he says, throwing his hands up in defense.

“Josh, no! This was supposed to be real. I’m not recording this, I’ll text Pierre-Luc,” you tell him, pulling out your phone to call him and ask if you could do his room tonight instead, turning to leave his room

“Wait, no, Y/N,” Josh says, grabbing your arm. He spins you around, causing your phone to go flying, his lips crashing into yours. For a second you don’t think you can move your body, the utter shock of your lips moving with his, until your body practically melts into his, your arms up around his shoulder, your hands running through his hair as his hands find his way around your waist. 

When he finally pulls away, all you can say is, “wow.” 

“So if I need a messier room, what do you say we start with the bed,” he smirks.

“Watch it,” you laugh, pulling him in to kiss again. And to think: you never thought you would have to see him again.