#the doctor bit is a joke i absolutely am not smart enough to be a doctor

[borgeslabyrinth]

It's absurd how good I am at anatomy. I studied for my test like an hour and only got one question wrong. Should I have been a doctor?

[queen-of-the-avengers]

The Avengers: Part Four

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

MCU Rewrite Masterlist

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Bruce is playing doctor in a small town in Pakistan where there are very sick people who are in need of real help. You hate to pull him away from this but Fury needs him. Fury got a contact of his to lure Bruce away from his duties and to an abandoned house on the outskirts of town where you are with dozens of agents surrounding the place. Bruce won't be able to see them since they're all in hiding, and you hope you won't have to need them.

The young girl races into the house and escapes through the back window, successfully completing her part.

"Should have got paid up front, Banner," he sighs.

"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle," you grin and make yourself known.

Bruce looks at you and for a split second, he smiles at the thought of seeing a friend. However, if you're here seeking him, then something must be wrong and the smile is dropped from his face.

"Avoiding stress isn't the secret."

"Then, what is it? Yoga?"

"You brought me to the edge of the city... smart. I assume the whole place is surrounded?"

"It's just you and me. It's good to see you, Bruce."

You move closer to hug him but he backs away from you. He thinks it's better if he keeps his distance from you.

"Are you here to kill me, Y/N? Because that's not gonna work out for everyone."

"No. I'm here on behalf of SHIELD."

"How did they find me?"

"They never lost you, Doctor. I need you to come in."

"What if I say no?"

"That's not very nice. After everything I've done for you."

Bruce smiles a bit at this.

"What if the... other guy says no?"

"Come on, I think he likes me a bit more than he likes you," you joke. "I do need you to come in on this. Bruce, we're facing a potential global catastrophe."

"Well, those I actively try to avoid," he chuckles.

You walk to the table and sit down, and you take out your phone to pull up the file on the Tesseract. Once you have it, you slide it across the table toward him. Bruce takes out his glasses and inspects the file on your phone.

"This is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the Planet. It's what gave me my powers, as you know."

"What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it?"

"He wants you to find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. I am not enough, apparently, and with your help, we can find it. There's no one that knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that's where I'd be. You know I wouldn't be here unless it was absolutely necessary. You made me promise that."

"So, Fury isn't after the monster?"

"I wouldn't call him that."

"What would you call him?"

"Confused. Unable to place his anger properly."

"Monster sounds better to me."

"Just talk to Fury. He needs you on this."

"He needs me in a cage?"

"No one's gonna put you in a--"

"STOP LYING TO ME!"

Bruce slams his hands down on the table in an attempt to scare you but you don't react in the way he was hoping you would. Instead, you lean back and cross your arms with a sigh.

"I'm not afraid of you. I've seen scarier and bigger than the Hulk. I'm the one person who isn't scared of you, Bruce. Remember?"

You hold out your hand, palm up to the ceiling. He looks at it in thought before putting his normal hand, face up, on top of yours. You take the same hand and touch his palm, move it to his wrist, and slide your fingers from his wrist to his palm along his vein.

"Sun's getting real low," you smile. Bruce's smile tells you everything you need to know, and this time, you do give him a hug. He returns the gesture, and you pull away from him after a few seconds. "It's a track and report only. That's it. I'll do the heavy lifting for you."

"Okay," he nods.

"Stand down." You touch the small earpiece in your ear to signal to the agents outside. "We're all clear here."

"Just you and me, huh?"

You give him a shrug in response. Now that you have Bruce and Natasha on board, the only person who needs convincing is Steve. Phil is getting Tony on board but you have a feeling it won't take much to convince him to be a hero. If Phil shows him enough footage of the damages that have happened over the years, his interest will be piqued.

Steve has been working out a lot lately, trying to fight the memories that keep coming back to him from the 1940s. His go-to move is the punching bags even though he's been through two of them already. You're sitting on the bench watching as Steve punches the bag repeatedly, each one harder than the last. With his strength, he'll break another one. Luckily, he has seven other bags lying on the floor for him to go through.

With each punch, Steve's rage builds. If it gets to the boiling point, then there's no telling what he'll do.

"Steve, that's enough," you say. He doesn't respond to you so you get up and walk over to him. You stand in front of him and grab the punching bag before he rips it to shreds. "Steve, look at me." He rears his hand back for a final punch, and you move out of the way knowing how hard he's going to hit it. When his fist makes contact with the bag, it busts open and goes flying across the room, spraying sand everywhere. He stands there panting heavily when you approach him carefully. "Steve, look at me." This time, he does. You can see the emotion in his eyes. "I miss him, too. You're not alone. I'm right here."

Steve sighs and grabs another punching bag to hook up. He slows his breathing down before resuming his punching, and that's when Nick Fury walks into the gym.

"Trouble sleeping?"

"I slept for seventy years, sir. I think I've had my fill," Steve grunts and punches the bag again.

"Then you should be out, celebrating, seeing the world. What, you didn't want to take him sightseeing, Y/N?"

"If only it were that easy."

Steve takes a break from punching and walks over to his gym bag. He removes the white wraps that are secured tightly around both hands.

"When I went under, the world was at war. When I woke up, they said we won. They didn't say what we lost. Are you here with a mission, sir?"

"I am."

"Trying to get me back in the world?"

"Trying to save it." Fury hands Steve the file he has on the Tesseract along with files on Hydra's other projects. "Recognize it?"

"Hydra's secret weapon."

"Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think, that the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs."

"Who took it from you?"

"He's called Loki." Steve looks at you but you have your head down. "He's not from around here. There's a lot we'll have to bring you up to speed on if you're in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know."

"At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me," Steve scoffs and hands the file back to him.

"Ten bucks says you're wrong. There's a debriefing package waiting for you back at your apartment." Steve grabs one of the punching bags and hauls it over his shoulder with his gym bag in the other hand. Looks like you're heading back home. "Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?"

"You should have left it in the ocean."

He does have a point. You and Steve head back to your apartment where there is, in fact, a file waiting for Steve to look over. He disappears into his room with it and doesn't come out until you have dinner placed on the table.

"Did you read it all?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

"I think Loki is a bad guy with bad intentions. He should be stopped." It hurts to hear that Loki is a bad guy when you know he isn't. Steve sees the look of sadness on your face. "What, you disagree?"

"I think the Tesseract is a very powerful thing that humans don't know how to control. It's an Infinity Stone. It's very powerful. Humans aren't advanced enough to harness its power, and it's going to hurt a lot of people if we don't get it back."

"I wasn't talking about the Tesseract."

"Look, my feelings for Loki are complicated. Yes, I fell in love with him. Yes, he's done bad things but that doesn't make him a terrible person. I think he's hurt and confused which can lead to dangerous outcomes. I don't like talking about Loki, okay? Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment.

If you're going to talk about something as serious as Loki and the Tesseract, you need a secure place to do it. Fury has a boat that he wants everyone on, so you, Phil, and Steve take a jet to get there. Tony will fly in on his own while Bruce and Natasha will take separate jets. What's it going to be like when you finally see Natasha after two years? You didn't mean to leave her stranded on the beach. Will she hate you? Despise you? Go running back into your arms?

How would that make you feel if she did? Who would you be betraying if she did? On one hand, Loki is right in front of you as broken as ever, waiting for you to come and save him. On the other hand, your heart also belongs to Bucky. Your love life is fucked up that you sometimes wish to be away from it all just to be able to think... breathe...

A picture of Bucky is in your hand, and you run your thumb down the black-and-white photo. It's of him in his uniform as he sits up straight with a smile. He wasn't too keen on going into battle but was forced to, and the only reason he's smiling in this picture is because you're behind the camera making faces for him.

He has such a nice smile... had.

"Wow, you got Bucky to smile for once?" Steve jokes when he sees the picture. He looks at your face and immediately knows something is wrong. "What's wrong?"

"I feel like I'm betraying him for how I feel about Loki," you whisper, not wanting Phil to hear.

"Bucky would have wanted you to live your life, not dwell on it."

"Yeah," you sniffle and put the photo away.

"We're about forty minutes out from the base, sir," the pilot says to Phil.

"So, this Doctor Banner was trying to replicate the serum that was used on me?" Steve asks Phil.

He is given a tablet to watch some videos of the people he's going to meet. The one that interests him the most is Bruce's file.

"A lot of people were. You were the world's first superhero. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

"Didn't really go his way, did it?"

"Not so much. When he's not that thing though, the guy is like Stephen Hawking." Steve looks confused. "He's, like, a smart person. I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you, officially." Steve smiles at him. "I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping." Steve's smile is lost and he gets up to put some distance between him and Phil, although, the agent follows him. "I mean, I was... I was present while you were unconscious from the ice."

"You're doing great, Phil," you give him a thumbs up.

"You know, it's really just a huge honor to have you on board."

"Well, I hope I'm the man for the job."

"Oh, you are. Absolutely. Just so you know, we've made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input."

"The uniform? Aren't the stars and stripes a little old-fashioned?"

"With everything that's happening, and the things that are about to come to light, people might just need a little old-fashioned."

Forty minutes later, you reach the helicopter landing strip on an enormous helicarrier in the middle of the ocean. You step foot off the plane and are greeted by Natasha. This is it. This is the moment you'll find out if she's pissed at you or completely forgiven you.

"Agent Romanoff. Captain Rogers. You already know Y/N," Phil makes the introductions.

"Hi, Nat," you smile softly.

"Hi."

You two stare at each other for what seems like hours. She shakes her head and turns to Phil, and you look down apprehensively.

"They need you on the bridge for the face scan."

"See you in there," Phil says and leaves the group.

"There was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice," she says to Steve. You're kind of glad she is talking about anything other than what happened between you two, but you're also sad she isn't. "I thought Coulson was gonna swoon. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?"

"Trading cards?"

"They're vintage. He's very proud."

Bruce had arrived at the same time as you and Steve but he is a bit more confused with soldiers and workers moving around him. He tries to step one way but ends up almost knocking into people. He's very nervous. You'd be if you were in his shoes.

"Dr. Banner."

Steve leaves Nat's side to join the doctor's, and you look at Natasha as you approach her.

"Nat, listen, I--"

"I'd rather not talk about that right now. We have a job to do. Let's just do it."

Great. She's pissed at you.

"Right," you whisper.

"Gentlemen, you may wanna step inside in a minute. It's gonna get a little hard to breathe," Natasha says, stepping away from you.

Suddenly, the helicarrier starts shaking as it prepares to take off. The noise of it creaking makes you think of a submarine.

"Is this a submarine?" Steve asks, having thought the same as you.

"Really? They wanted me in a submerged pressurized metal container?" You, Steve, and Bruce walk to the edge to see four huge fans mounted on the sides of the ship spin faster. The faster they spin, the higher you lift into the air. "Oh, no, this is much worse."

The helicarrier starts to rise high in the sky. The entire ship is covered with reflective mirrors so that wherever it goes, it reflects off its surroundings, becoming almost invisible. Yup, a super secret place to research super secret topics

x

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[mikelogan]

I'm thinking about maybe trying to write a Jdox fic but it's not my main fandom so I haven't read too much fanfiction about them. Do you have any tips on how to write them you'd be willing to share? I love writing and I love their characters I just want to make sure I'm writing them well.

1) DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT

I will say reading literally anything from RumCove, kipli, and RandomSlasher and Thuri on AO3 is like, chef's kiss both in terms of characterization and just overall amazing writing and storytelling. I am well aware that my Perry and JD can be a bit OOC when you simply just watch the show, but I've been neck-deep in JDox hell since 2015 and have had a lot of time to develop my own HCs and think about how they act and react to each other.

All that being said, here are some of my own personal opinions and what I would consider to be main character traits

Perry can be, and often is harsh, and can cross the line into cruel. Johnny C has said it in a lot of interviews, but where Kelso is seemingly all bad in the earlier seasons, it was important to differentiate Perry from him. So if Perry's a cup of dirt, there's still always going to be that scoop of sugar mixed in there. He cares deeply about his patients and his job and the people he loves, he's just not the greatest at expressing that and covers it up with sarcasm and jokes.

JD is not stupid or helpless. He may be naive and immature at times, but I've seen some fics treat him as though he's completely useless on his own. He becomes a fantastic doctor over the course of the show and never lacks compassion. Can that be his downfall occasionally? Absolutely, he may even care too much sometimes. But he's extremely smart, and while he is usually better as part of a group or team (I can't do this all on my own, no I know, I'm no Superman), that doesn't take away from what he brings to the table.

Obviously, it depends on what kind of fic you want to write, but especially with established JDox, JD isn't going to cry over every little jab Perry gets in. No, he's probably going to either roll his eyes and ignore Perry, or he's going to snark back. He can give as good as he gets and that definitely earns him brownie points with Perry.

This fandom is usually about a breath away from being fully dead at any given point, so when I tell you to write it, write it. Has the amnesia trope been done before? Hell yeah. Write it anyway. JD gets hurt and it makes Perry realize his feelings? Write it. They bicker and start hatefucking and it gradually turns into feelings? Write it. As long as you're not blatantly ripping off another fic, I don't care if the trope has been written a hundred times. Write the fic because no two writers are going to do it the same way. For instance, off the top of my head, the amnesia trope has been done at least 4 times on AO3: Amnesia by randomslasher and thuriweaver; My Coma by sweetrevelation; Teardrops and Rain by yours truly; and most recently, My New Perspective by RumCove. And each of those fics uses the trope differently (and if I had to guess, there's probably more out there somewhere, but I stick to AO3 lol).

As a final point, and potentially the most important, is that they have more in common than you'd originally think. They both are brilliant at what they do and they care so much that it can be their downfall. Look at My Lunch/My Fallen Idol. The loss of those patients hit Perry so hard that it was enough for him to completely fall apart and nearly throw in the towel. But JD was able to help him out of that because he understood all too well what Perry was feeling. Because he'd been there, too. When they love, they love hard. They're both a bit narcissistic. They know a LOT about each other just by virtue of working together for so long, probably more than they realize they do.

And okay, I'll say one more thing. JD tears up once in canon in the season 8 Sesame Street episode. Perry cries at least twice (3x14, 5x20, and maybe 5x21?). Do with that what you will.

Hopefully that's helpful to you in some capacity but also like. Follow your heart, believe in your dreams, etc 😂 Let me know if there's anything else I can do to help!

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Thor’s twin

Thor Odinson x twin!reader

warnings:

a/n: HSHSHHSHSHHSHSGS

prompt: @locke-writes: “Wait Lacey I have a headcanon idea if you’re willing to write it. Headcanons for being Thor’s twin??? Idk man I feel like that could be unbridled chaos”

okay, i believe that odin and frigga refused to tell the two of you who was born first

“either one of you could earn the throne, but you need to prove that you can handle the responsibility” -odin

jokes on him, neither of you cared for the opportunity to rule

you two were much better suited as warriors

you were both able to weild mjölnir, which created...disagreements

“i should have mjölnir! i lifted it first!” -you

“only because you pushed me out of the way!” -thor

“will you two just rip each other apart already?” -loki

speaking of loki, his pranks always exhausted you

especially when you appeared to have woken up in your twin brother’s body

“wh-what is this? LOKI!!!”

he always got a kick out of it

and the celebrations of victory? they never disappointed

“brother! another victory on the battlefield, but was there any other doubt?” -you

“of course not, y/n! at this rate, i don’t think we’ll ever fall!” -thor

“don’t put your hammer where your mouth is” -you

you and thor were definitely unstoppable fighting together, both blessed to be literal gods

“eyes front, thor! the fight’s not over yet!”

when you walked beside each other, sometimes you’d summon mjölnir to your hand

it always annoyed the hell out of him

“give that back”

“i don’t think i will”

“y/n, i’m serious”

“come and get it”

“that’s it!”

*swatting and wrestling in the middle of the hallway*

sometimes frigga would even catch the two of you arguing

“oh, my children. would you quit your bickering for just one moment?” -frigga

“but mother, y/n took my hammer!” -thor

“you’ll just have to learn how to share” -frigga

as the years flew by, there was always something crazy to occupy you

especially the day that thor had been banished, which hadn’t exactly gone as planned for loki

you were supposed to be banished, as well

“i suppose the future of the throne is your responsibility now, my child” -odin

“i...i don’t know what to say” -you

“but y/n doesn’t desire the throne one bit, i would have no problem stepping up, father” -loki

“we’ll deal with this later, brother” -you

you had to plan something with sif and the warrior’s three

yes, it was treason, but your brother would always be worth it. no matter how much you two argued, he was your other half

now you found yourself on earth, it was such an odd-looking place

and then you were chased by a destroyer

“thor, you must get to safety! i will not lose you again!” -you

“hi there, i’m jane...” -jane, obviously

“hello, lady jane! i’m y/n, thor’s twin!” *blocks debris* “i must go now!”

life didnt get much more simple after that, especially since loki had died (or so you thought) and the bifrost was completely destroyed, it would take a long time to fix any of the damages that asgard suffered

mourning over loki felt right and wrong at the same time, he betrayed you and your family, but you’d never stop loving him

he would always be your brother

as time went on, you had to visit earth once again because of...loki

“i should have known” -you

“yes, you should have” -thor

“you didn’t know, either!” -you

“and they call us petty?” -any SHIELD agent or avenger

loki mocked you when he was captured

“you were nothing but loved growing up, brother. what happened?” -you

“there was a shadow cast over me, thor’s shadow. don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it, either. odin only ever truly notices him and all of his feats” -loki

“you tell nothing but lies, loki. i won’t fall for them and i will not help you. you should stop while you’re ahead”

“so you agree that i’m ahead?”

threatening loki with mjölnir

ppl actually called mjölnir “thor’s hammer”

“i think you mean our hammer” -you

the battle of new york was admittedly terrifying, you knew loki had it in him, but seeing it in the moment just hurt you

it was possible you had a guilty conscience

but the avengers saved the day (mostly) and you brought loki and the tesseract home

and loki was sentenced to an eternity in prison

“hey, thor, think i’d have a shot at lady sif?” -you teasing the hell out of him

“shut up. you won’t make me jealous no matter what you say. my heart belongs to—” -thor

“the midgardian, i know”

you did sort of make him jealous tho ngl

aaanyways you pushed him to go see jane again, it had been too long to leave a midgardian waiting. their lives were short.

and you got to see her again! unfortunately you lost your mother that same day

and you were p i s s e d

murder? murder. (murder)

you may or may not have broke into the vault to get a weapon you could truly call your own

and then went against your better judgement and took loki to off-world with you

“y/n—” -loki

“shut up” -you

but you wish you had listened to what he had to say since you had the bear the loss of loki once again

now you had two family members to avenge

speaking of avenging, you steered clear of the avengers because......they were nuts

“y/n! you know, we could use another god like yourself on our team” -tony

“thor won’t help power your building, will he?” -you

“you got me” -tony

“so, you and thor are twins? who’s older?” -steve

“we actually don’t know!” -you

“oh...neat” -steve

“you know, thor was crying the first time he tried to lift that hammer of his” -clint

“i have no doubt about that” -you

“thor always talks about fighting in wars, but he never gives us any details. has he really fought wars?” -natasha

“oh, plenty of them! my brother and i have fought side by side in countless battles, you’ve even witnessed one! in new york!” -you

“how could i forget?” -nat

okay getting past all that, you focused on getting a headstart on some more *prophetic* instances that thor caught up to you on

and once you got back to asgard, you knew there was something wrong

“are you kidding me? loki? again?” -you

“hello, sibling. it’s nice to see you again” -loki

“why are you the way that you are?” -you

“that’s enough, y/n” -thor

✨going to midgard for odin who instead gave you a homicidal sister✨

hela was not nice at all. at ALL.

your heart broke when she shattered mjölnir

and loki made a bad call to open the bifrost for the whole odinspawn family

and next thing you knew, you were on sakaar

“thor? what the hell?” -you

“y/n! oh, it’s so good to see you! help me out here, please!” -thor

“i’m sorry, brother, but me and loki have been playing the loving brother/sibling act to keep it civil. this place...it’s unlike any place we’ve ever seen. we need to be smart. and we need to get back to asgard.” -you

“yes, we do. there is no doubt in my mind that hela is destroying asgard as we speak” -thor

“right, well...i don’t think loki will be joining us because, he and, uh, the grandmaster as they call him...they sort of formed a relationship” -you

trying to break thor out of prison and oh....hulk is here? that was unexpected

“y/n! y/n, that mean girl who kidnapped me? a valkyrie. a real life valkyrie!” -thor

“what?! father told us they had all died!” -you

“i think it would be safest to disregard everything father has ever told us” -thor

“i very much like that idea” -you

kicking absolute ass on your way out

you and valkyrie teamed up, so you had to say your goodbyes to loki early on, he made it clear he wanted to stay

“you will always be my brother, loki. i wish you well on your journey to find your place in this life. and i do love you, remember that” -you, giving him a hug

“...thank you, y/n. i...me, too” -loki

yet he came back for you in the end

after thor had lost his eye, he’d unlocked his true power........not to be a sore winner, but you’d unlocked yours first while he was on earth

but you two together? that should have been unstoppable

yet you weren’t

“what the hel? she should be dead!” -you

“we need to go” -valkyrie

“wait, i have one more idea” -thor

and that idea was the idea that ended asgard

but you’d create a new asgard

but then half of asgard was murdered by thanos! and you and thor were stranded in space! and loki actually died! and you were saved by space pirates! and were flirted with by half of their crew!

“thor, you need to see dmitri, you need a new weapon if we’re going to finish off thanos” -you

okay, well you and the “guardians of the galaxy” went after infinity stones instead, you knew that one day you’d have to

running into tony stark in space?????

“y/n? what are you doing here?” -tony

“i’m here to kill thanos, what are you doing here, stark? who are these two?” -you

“hi, i’m peter! that’s mister—doctor strange” -peter

everyone turned to dust after thanos escaped and you, tony, and nebula went to star-lord’s ship

and were saved by captain marvel

and reunited with thor

“y/n, by odin’s beard, i thought i had lost you” -thor

“it’s alright, i’m here now” -you

starting up new asgard and watching your brother fall into a depression that caused you to do most of the heavy lifting in this new kingdom

“are you still playing fortnite, brother? it’s five in the morning” -you

“can you pass...” *belch* “just pass me another beer” -thor

and after 5 years, you got to go back to asgard? but asgard from 10 years prior

“mother...” -you

“y/n, we have a mission” -rocket

“i know, i know...where’s thor?” -you

running into your mother while getting thor

“hello, mother. i...yes, hello” -you

“hello, my child. i hope that the future is treating you well” -frigga

“it isn’t, but thank you, mother. i love you” -you

and then you were back on earth and had to comfort thor, who was self-loathing again

but the work had been restored by a simple snap!

and you and thor were able to fight a real fight once more, summoning mjölnir again was invigorating

and there was some kind of bittersweet win here, one i’ve covered plenty of times

“it was fitting for such a great battle to be our final one for now” -thor

“you’re leaving?” -you

“i am, but i trust you’ll take care of our people like you always do. i will see you again, dear sibling. one day” -thor

taglist: @alwaysananglophile // @rorybutnotgilmore // @locke-writes // @sweetheartliz07 // @queen-destenie // @natasha-danvers // @lokihiddles // @frostedficrecs // @emygirl // @lotsoffandomrecs // @johnmurphyisbisexual // @teenwaywardasgardian // @pappydaddy // @captainshazamerica // @freya-xo // @ravenmoore14 // @thisetaernallove // @ofthedewthesunlight // @canarypoint // @zoeyserpentluck //

[dirty-urie]

McBrendon

Second Person

Brendon x Female Reader

Unspecified Era

Smut Oneshot

NC-17

3.2k Words

Warnings in order of appearance: RPF, language throughout, not pre-discussed roleplay scene, medical roleplay and language, sex

Author's Notes:

So, basically, I was re-watching Grey's Anatomy, and I was like, "What if Brendon was here?" and then this was born. I have no idea if someone who's never watched Grey's Anatomy would understand or appreciate this, but basically what I think you need to know is that Derek Shepherd and Mark Sloan are sexy manwhores (in the earier seasons), and a common recurring joke in the earlier seasons of the show is putting "Mc" in front of adjectives to describe love interests. The fic is supposed to be more silly than sexy, but maybe it's sexy too, I don't really know.

"Wait, what about those two?" He asks, and you sigh exasperatedly.

"Brendon, just assume that all of the doctors on the Doctor Sex Show have slept together. That's the whole point."

He groans and slumps back in his chair, "Remind me why we have to watch this overdramatic doctor smut in the theater? The theater should be a sacred space for Disney movies or action movies with boobies and explosions, not 'ohhhh does McCreamy only like Natalie because she hooked up with Appendectomy?.'"

"It's my week on laundry duty, and whoever's folding laundry gets to watch whatever they want wherever they want. That's the rules, but you can go watch something in the living room or on your computer or on your phone if you don't like it," you offer, trying to get rid of him. You love Brendon, you love him so much, but sometimes you need to sit in the dark and fold laundry with no other noises except your soapy little doctor show.

"Fine. The men of the house are going to go watch something manly, don't bother us. Come on, Bogart!"

Brendon's little Jack Russell turns to look at you as if asking to stay, but you pat his back and send him off to go snuggle with his dad. You don't think you could handle Brendon's betrayed gasps if you let Bogart finish the episode with you. You and Penny will be fine ogling at Patrick Dempsey while file-folding Brendon's 68 pairs of gray and black sweatpants alone. Brendon kisses your cheek before he leaves. "Have fun with the boobs and explosions, babe," you tell him on his way out of the room.

"Oh, you know I will!"

•••

Two weeks later, it's your turn to fold laundry again, and you're back to watching Grey's, this time in the living room. The dogs are sitting next to you, eyes glued to the screen. Brendon's also in the room, bitching about "introducing this drivel into our home," but you're ignoring him because you don't need that kind of negativity in your life.

He finally quiets down, and you appreciate the five minutes of peace. Until… "Are you unsatisfied with our sex life?" He asks out of the blue.

You're taken completely aback for a second before you scramble to pause the tv. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, what? Where did this come from?" you ask him. What the fuck? Is he unsatisfied with your sex life?

"Well, we haven't had sex in weeks practically." Three days actually. It's been three days, but you don't interrupt him. "And you keep watching this sexy doctor show, so I don't know, maybe you're feeling like a bored housewife," Brendon explains.

You laugh at him, and he looks offended. "You're overthinking it, baby boy. It's just a show! Sure, the sexual tension between the entire hospital and Mark Sloan is spicy and exciting, but I'm not trying to compensate for anything lacking in my life. If anything, all that spice just translates into better sex for both of us. Okay?"

He looks very skeptical. "Hm, sure. I totally believe you."

You don't necessarily think you properly got your point across to him, but Meredith just made another bad decision, and you need to see how it pans out. "Okay, great, now go watch a manly show with Bogs in our room if you're going to keep whining."

Brendon does not, in fact, go into your room to watch a manly show on his laptop. Instead, he and Bogart start watching season 1 of Grey's Anatomy, immediately getting highly invested in the lives of the ambitious-yet-messy surgical interns. He's trying to figure out what exactly appeals to you about the show.

•••

It's his turn to fold the clothes, and he's doing it wrong, but you're resisting the urge to do it for him because you're a feminist, damnit. He's still letting you watch Grey's Anatomy because he's a doll (and you don't know this, but he's also become a bit of a fan.)

"Do you think I'm more a Mark Sloan or a Derek Shepherd?" He asks.

You scoff, "You're a George."

"I am not! I'm way sexier than George!"

"You're just jealous because I'm an Addison."

"Pshh, you're a Bailey. You wanna know how I know?" He asks.

"Fine. Tell me." You give in.

"You desperately want to correct my laundry technique."

•••

"Meet me in the on-call room in five," Brendon whispers against the back of your neck while you're drying the dishes from dinner. What is this man doing? "Meet you where?" You ask, but he's already walked away. You're not sure whether to actually wait the five minutes or just try to go find him.

You give him three minutes before going to the bedroom. You honestly don't know what you were expecting, but it wasn't Brendon laying on his side in the middle of your bed, shirtless under a white coat. He has on a pair of navy blue scrub pants that aren't particularly flattering, but they still look nice on him.

"Explain to me what's happening here, homie," you tell him.

"I'm being sexy for you! So sexy! I'm Dr. Brendon "McKinky" Urie, I'm a general surgery attending, but my real specialty is pleasure."

You visibly cringe for him. "You're a McDoofus, and your real specialty is probably malpractice."

He pouts. "Play along. Come on. Please? Be Dr. Y/N Sexy."

You roll your eyes. "Why do you get your real last name, but I'm Dr. Sexy?"

"Because we're not married in this fantasy! We're both cheating on our spouses but not in a tragic way, in a sexy way! Come on! Let yourself have fun," he pleads.

You feel yourself start to cave. "Fine, I'll play along, but I'm stopping this the minute I feel weird, okay?"

"Of course. And, babe, if you don't want to do this, you absolutely do not have to," he says, serious now.

"No, no, Brendon. I'm down for this. I think you're a total goof for doing it, but I trust you."

He brightens, "Great! Now it's time for your examination." He waggles his eyebrows, climbing off the bed and gesturing for you to take his place.

"Exam? Am I a patient? Why am I in the on-call room if I'm a patient?" You ask.

"Doctors need exams too, y'know. We're both doctors, but I don't know, you need a routine exam for like moles or something. Take your clothes off." He says, and you take a split-second to be grateful that Brendon got discovered for his musical talents and will therefore never be an actual doctor.

You stifle back your laughter and strip down to your underwear, lying on your back on top of the white sheet he put over the comforter to protect the bed from any potential messes. He stands over you next to the bed, and you're happy that you at least get to stare at his body during this little experiment. The whole "doctor" thing may not be driving you wild on its own, but your half-naked husband always will.

"Thank you for coming to this appointment, Dr. Y/N Sexy," he says. Don't laugh, don't laugh, don't laugh, you chant in your head. "First," he says, making his voice husky, "I need to test your reflexes." Something tells you he won't be using one of those little hammers. He bends down and breathes against your neck. You shiver, and goosebumps appear on your arms. You're glad you wore your front clasp bra when he unclips it and has immediate access to your breasts. He circles around your nipple with his finger, and they harden quickly. "Mmm, good reflexes indeed. Very responsive," he purrs. "I don't think your test results are conclusive yet. You should keep going," you encourage. He rubs your scalp, and your head rolls back. You're worried that you'll start drooling.

Brendon smirks at you a little, and his smugness is slightly infuriating. Yes, you like him touching you, but that hardly proves that his weird roleplaying was a good idea. "Just like I observed, fantastic reflexes. But I now must move on to the chest exam." He rests his head on your chest, and you're beginning to suspect that this whole thing was just a ploy to touch your boobs a lot. "Is your heart rate always this fast or just when your hot coworker is touching you?"

"Normally only my husband, also named Brendon… for some reason, can get me so worked up, but now I'm thinking of leaving him for you, McCrinkly."

"It's McKinky, and your husband sounds gorgeous and super smart. You should keep him around," he says, climbing onto you and groping your breasts. "In my professional opinion, these are nice tits."

You have to bite your lip to resist the urge to laugh again. You wouldn't quite say you're aroused, but you are having fun at least. "Okay, okay, doc. Enough of the preliminary exam; I need five and a half inches, stat."

"You couldn't round up to six while we're playing!?"

"Oh, come on, you're lucky I rounded up to five and a half!"

"Rude! So rude!"

You kiss him to shut him up. "Sorry, baby, I won't bully you anymore. Now, how about a cervical exam?" You suggest, craving his thickness inside you.

That cheers him up. Brendon resumes his doctor roleplay. "First, let me complete the dermatological examination. If you could remove your undergarments, please."

You throw your bra on the floor and take off your underwear.

He admires the small amount of newly-exposed skin. "So many marks on your breasts and pubic region. Did your hot husband leave these too, or should I investigate for a skin condition?" He asks, ducking between your thighs to add some more.

"Yeah, he left them there. My sexy husband is kind of the best, but enough about him," you say.

New dark spots pop up after he finally moves his mouth from the sensitive skin of your thighs. "Oops, I think I just burst a couple of capillaries."

Well, someone did some light googling. "Do you think I'll make it?" You ask, faking drama.

"Yes, but you'll need someone to pay lots of attention to the area between your thighs."

He never mastered the art of subtly, did he? "I don't think that will be an issue. My husband will be thrilled."

"Great, that's taken care of. Shall we commence with the cervical exam then?" He asks, rolling off you to tug off his scrubs and underwear. He keeps his dumb coat on, which is more goofy than sexy without clothes underneath, but you don't tell him that. "And we can test your motor skills at the same time. Hands and knees, please."

You obey, and he moves behind you to enter you. He pushes into you quickly and hard, just like you like it. "God, there's so much blood in my, hm, um corpus cavernosum… I think," he says.

"Your what? Are you trying to cast a Harry Potter spell? because that's a whole different roleplay," You crane your neck back to see him, and your eyes widen. "Brendon, are you," you need to pause to choke back your laughter, "are you reading from a flashcard? While inside me?"

He's on his knees behind you, squinting at a white notecard. He flips the card over and reads from it, "the corpus cavernosum is, um, the main erectile tissue in the genitals. So, uh, I was trying to say that I'm hard for you."

That's it, you can't contain your laughter. You can't even bear to look at Brendon without cracking up. Tears are streaming down your face. He hisses, and you think it's because you've upset him, but you turn back to look at him, and he's biting his lip, his head tilted back.

"Are you good, B?" You ask, a little worried.

He's breathing hard. "Yeah, just your laughing caused contractions around my cock, and I was not prepared. Felt good, just unexpected." He pulls almost all the way out and then jerks back in, not quite slamming but gearing up to it.

"Faster, please. Careful still, but faster," you request.

He speeds up perfectly, finally filling you up and relieving the ache inside you. You relish each time his hips meet your body, feeling close to him, even if the position isn't as intimate as he usually likes. You suppose successful Dr. Kinky, notorious womanizer, wouldn't necessarily want to make loving, passionate eye contact with all of his conquests.

"So, Dr. Kinky-"

"No, it's doctor Urie, McKinky."

Jesus, you need a script. "So, Dr. Urie, do you have enough energy after all those lobotomies or whatever to rub a girl's clit? I bet my husband, the other Brendon, would touch me."

"Well, I would never even bother to compete with such a stellar man, but I can still try to get you off." His hands move between your thighs to touch your cunt. "Oh no, so much excess fluid here. I hope nothing's wrong." He puts a finger on your throbbing clit and feigns a sigh of relief, "Good, I've found a pulse." His touch is feather-light as he slowly strokes you. The contrast between his fast, hard thrusts and delicate strokes somehow enhances both of his actions.

"Oh, that's nice," you moan.

"You mind if I have you roll over? I still have to test your flexibility, and I'd love to do that with your legs on my shoulders."

"Fuck yeah."

He pulls out, and you get on your back; he gets you ready by situating the pillows underneath you. You rest a leg on either shoulder, and he thrusts in again. You don't want to admit it to him, but you feel like you'll need to come soon. The spikes of pleasure pulsing between your legs have been getting stronger and closer together, and now that you can see what you do to him, rather than just hearing his occasional grunts, you feel even closer to crossing that finish line.

"I'm observing some rapid contractions, Sexy. Should I note in your chart how close you are to coming all over me? Because it seems to me that you're failing your stamina and endurance evaluation," Dr. Urie teases.

You close your eyes to try to eliminate a source of the arousal, but you still feel painfully close to the edge.

Brendon inadvertently shifts a bit, and that does it. Your arousal peaks intensely, and you try to restrain your reactions on the off chance he doesn't notice. However, you're pretty sure he does notice your orgasm when his movements slow to a stop, and that's confirmed when he outright says it. "You just came," he states. It's not a question.

You nod, not bothering to deny it.

He pulls out, and you finally get to see his still-hard cock soaked with your wetness. "Well I suppose, we can run… further tests to reach a full diagnosis," he practically croons, pulling his scrub pants back on, and a wave of lust spreads from your stomach. Fine, the doctor thing is a little hot. "It's up to you though, I defer to your professional opinion."

"I think my exam is complete, actually, but I know you've been complaining of some pain in this region," you give his crotch a quick squeeze. "Do you mind stripping so I can investigate?"

He immediately takes off his coat, obviously excited, and gives it to you, so you put it on. "So, can you describe the pain?" You ask, putting a hand on his thigh.

"Kind of an ache, I guess?"

You squeeze his thigh, "And you'd say the pain is mainly here?"

"No, uh, um, to the right."

You squeeze his other thigh, "Oh, I see, right here?"

"No, not, um, my thigh."

"Sorry, I understand." You lay your hand flat on his stomach, still carefully avoiding his cock. "Your stomach must be hurting."

"Still not quite."

You clench your jaw in fake frustration. "Well, could you just show me where you need my attention, Doctor Urie?"

He shoves down his pants and grasps his leaking cock, groaning in relief when he starts to tentatively touch himself.

"Yes, very good, thank you. Would you say the ache subsides with stimulation?" You ask professionally.

Brendon nods and smirks a bit, "Yeah, you could say that."

"Well, I think you just need to achieve ejaculation," you diagnose.

"Is that, ah, covered under my insurance?" He asks cheekily, still jerking himself.

You laugh, going to dig the lubricant out, "Okay," you nudge his hand away, "leave this to the professionals." You pour the clear lube into your hand. "This may be a bit cold," you warn. He doesn't really need the lube, he's both leaking profusely and still slick from being inside you, but you want to keep up the "doctor vibes." You grasp him firmly and stroke quickly, trying to get him off as soon as you can. You kind of want to use your mouth, but you can't think of a good reason to within the roleplay. That's mostly fine, though, because you can tell he's about to come.

He comes all over your hand without warning a minute or so later. He shudders and groans, spurting twice more. You didn’t realize how worked up he was. Of course, you saw how hard he was, but to come this much from just jerking him off means he was really turned on. "Outstanding sperm production, sir," you say, crudely wiping him up with a tissue.

"Okay, no more doctor talk. My brain is too mushy," he groans.

You take off the coat and get into bed, cuddling against him. "If your brain is mushy, you probably should see a doctor."

He giggles. "So, would you do this again?"

You think for a second. "Well, I'd roleplay with you again, but you have to warn me next time. And probably not the doctor thing again. It was hot playing with you, but thinking about actual medical procedures is not my thing."

He yawns, "Noted about the warning you next time, and that's too bad. I was really looking forward to the oral exam. How big is your mouth? How's your swallow technique?" He says, half-jokingly.

"Hey, don't push it, or we're doing a prostate exam, and due to budget cuts to the hospital, we're going to be low on lubricant."

He cringes, "Point taken. I don't need a doctor roleplay; the next time I want a blowjob, I'll just ask."

You get out of bed and put on your pajamas. "Well, if it's in the next 45 minutes, your request is getting denied because Penny Lane, Bogart, and I are watching the real Grey's Anatomy in the theater while you're still too weak to complain about it. And this is a good time to tell you that my character is not actually a medical doctor. I have a PHD in film studies. I’m a fraud.”

His mouth drops open, "You're telling me that wasn't an official medical handjob?!"

"I trust that you'll get over this. Love you, babe."

He scowls but still mutters a quiet, “I love you too.”

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Chapter Two of See You in the Morning Time

The third in a Rafael Barba/Reader/Frederick Chilton threesome verse written in collaboration with @pascalispretty . Gif by @mrsrafaelbarba . Yep. We did this. Was it necessary? No. Did we enjoy it? Sometimes. Are you going to read it? I sure hope you do and that you like it! Cross posted to ao3!

Part Three of the series So Much Easier than You Realize

Chapter One: A Different Feeling Entirely Chapter Two: Show Me the New

Warnings: Frederick being an anxious (and sad. and repressed) little weenie, discussions of period typical homophobia, bi panic, completely invented backstory (you got on this ride folks lol), Rafael being surprisingly supportive, cuddling, and of course a little bit of teasing Rating: PG-13 Word Count: 2293 Summary: It's not often that Fred instigates anything with Rafael except an argument.

It’s late by the time Fred and Rafael finally make their way to bed. They shower and put pajamas on while waiting for the food to arrive and once they eat, they finish the bottle of wine that Fred had opened earlier and spend the rest of the evening chatting and watching some dumb movie on TV.

Lying in Fred’s bed in his borrowed clothes, Rafael can’t help but smile to himself. After weeks of skittishness from Fred he had finally made it past some of the walls that the doctor had put up. Fred curled close to Rafael while they watched the movie, dragging a blanket over the two of them and cozying up entirely unprompted.

When Fred comes out of the bathroom and flicks the lights off, he’s even more pleased that Fred doesn’t seem to hesitate to lie close to him in bed or reach out for his hand.

“Thank you for letting me stay,” Rafael murmurs, to break the silence more than anything. He hears Fred scoff.

“I was hardly going to kick you out as soon as we were done.” As best as he can, Rafael turns on his side trying to make Fred out in the darkness of the room.

“I know. I just wasn’t sure how you’d feel.” He’s not at his most eloquent or subtle, but he wants to acknowledge what happened between them. “You were… hesitant at first and I just want to make sure you didn’t feel like you had to do this. As of a few days ago you were still pretty clear that you were not comfortable with the two of us having sex.”

Rafael doesn’t want to force a confidence, but he feels like he has to make sure. He’s coming to care too deeply about the arrogant chronically awkward man next to him to just let this go with vague assurances. He hears Fred shift onto his back and wants nothing more than to drag him into his arms and kiss his stupid, conceited face, but he holds himself still and waits for Fred to answer him, giving him the space he clearly wants.

“This wasn’t as sudden as you think it was,” Fred assures him eventually, face still pointed at the ceiling. “I’ve been thinking about this since, you know, that first time.” Rafael can practically feel Fred’s blush from his side of the bed and grins. “And my reticence was never about you, you know that, yes?”

Rafael nods, realizes Fred probably can’t see him, and clears his throat.

“Yeah, I figured as much. I am, after all, a damn catch.”

Rafael yelps as Fred reaches out, faster than he thought was possible for a well-fed psychiatrist who sits behind a desk all day, and smacks him on the chest.

They’re quiet for a few minutes, together in the dark cocoon of Fred’s bedroom, before Rafael sighs. He can’t help but notice the similarities between the blank peacefulness of Fred’s minimalist design and the deliberately organized calm of a therapist’s office and wonders if he did that on purpose. Maybe it’s a natural inclination, he muses idly. It invites honesty. The sharing of secrets.

“I’m only eighteen months younger than Benn, you know,” Fred says eventually, and it’s so unexpected that Rafael finds himself frowning a little in confusion. “All the way through school, I was Bennett Chilton’s younger brother; just the little brother of the handsome quarterback that everyone adored.” Rafael has seen photos of Bennett, tall and painfully handsome. He can see that it might have been hard to grow up in that shadow.

“He came out when he was sixteen, and I was fourteen. And I’m sure you can imagine what that was like at an all-boys Catholic school in Virginia in the eighties.” Rafael winces in the dark. He remembers well enough the attitudes in his own high school, in marginally more liberal New York. He can’t imagine what it must have been like in a place without a visible community to look up to.

“People were mostly smart enough not to say anything to Benn’s face--he was a six foot two starter who never backed down from a fight, they would have had to have been stupid--and our parents were supportive. But the things people said about him behind his back--” Fred shudders, an involuntary shiver that makes Rafael want to wrap his arms around him and never let go.

Instead, he just squeezes Fred’s hand reassuringly and waits for him to continue. For someone who has trouble shutting up at the very best of times--staying silent isn’t Rafael’s forte--he is doing an admirable job tonight. His desire to prove he’s worthy of this unexpected vulnerability from Fred is more than enough to keep him quiet. Rafael is desperate to know more, to know everything about Fred; about what makes him tick, about why he was so reticent, so reserved, when clearly this is something that he enjoys.

“It was awful. The kind of things you never want to hear about somebody you love. And I was hardly in any position to be giving out bloody noses or black eyes whenever someone called him a fag, or made some crack about AIDS.” Rafael shifts slightly nearer, still not saying anything. He smiles to himself when he feels one of Fred’s hands reach up to rest on Rafael’s hip.

“I was a short, scrawny child--I spent a lot of time in the hospital and home sick--and I couldn’t afford to give the other boys in my school one more reason to pick on me so I just… didn’t say anything. I’m not proud of it, but it’s not like Benn had any trouble sticking up for himself. I doubt he would have appreciated anyone stealing his opportunity to get into one more fight anyways.”

Rafael covers the hand Fred has on his hip with his own, deciding now is not the time to joke that he can’t ever imagine Fred as scrawny. Fred clears his throat again and continues in the same calm, rehearsed manner. Like this is something that he witnessed happening to someone else.

“It wasn’t long after that that I had my own month of absolute pure terror and confusion. It was one of Bennett’s teammates from the swim team that actually sent me over the edge. His name was Bobby and he was gorgeous. He had never made any jokes about Bennett, never joked about changing somewhere else in the locker room. He was a little stupid, I can admit that now, but back then I thought he was perfect. I worshipped my brother and this pretty boy clearly did the same.

“Well, I was horrified. Up until then I had been fully and completely in love with a girl I had known practically since infancy. Was all of that a lie? Was being gay genetic? Was Billy going to go through the same thing? It took me a whole month before I had the guts to ask Bennett and I nearly stabbed him with our father’s letter opener when he laughed at me.”

Rafael winces again, knowing how touchy Fred is now, a grown adult well-respected in his professional field and still a little obsessed with slights, perceived and real. Fred huffs, forcing any trace of bitterness out of his voice.

“He told me that you can like girls and boys at the same time and that I should go see if I still liked jerking off to pictures of Jennifer Connolly.” Rafael isn’t able to suppress his snort.

“I always liked Carrie Fisher,” he tells Fred, smiling over at him.

“You would, you pervert,” Fred shoots back. “Probably loved that bikini, didn’t you?”

“I think I’ll plead the Fifth on that one.”

Fred shakes his head and sighs deeply.

“Well, naturally, that was enough humiliation for me for one afternoon and so I threw a throw pillow at him and bolted for my room.”

“Did you jerk off to Jennifer Connolly?”

“Rafael, I can still kick you out of this apartment.”

“Sorry.” Rafael is silent for all of twelve seconds before he asks again, “Come on Fred, I’ve got to know; did you?”

“...Maybe,” Fred reluctantly admits. Rafael laughs and squeezes his hand.

“Moving on from your prurient obsession with my teenaged masturbatory life,” Fred says pointedly, managing to sound arch, offended, and haughty all at the same time. “I contemplated for a while what Benn had told me. A long time actually--that percolated in my brain all throughout the rest of high school. I only ever dated girls, I ignored it completely every time I was even remotely attracted to another boy, but I kept thinking about that. Not only did I have a lifelong conviction that if Bennett said it it must be so, but it just sort of felt right, you know?”

Rafael nods, remembering a similar feeling he had when he was younger. Despite what the other boys in his neighborhood said about “queers”, despite what the Church said, and despite what he knew his father would do to him if he heard Rafael’s thoughts, he was what he was and that was that. Fuck anyone who said different, he remembered thinking. It’s not like he could change it, even if he wanted to.

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” he answers when it’s clear that Fred requires some encouragement to continue. Fred twines his fingers with Rafael’s before carrying on.

“I lived with Benn in college. Our father bought him an apartment in Cambridge the day he got his acceptance letter from Harvard, and it only seemed logical that I’d move in once I got accepted too. And, I don’t know. It was a little easier there.” Rafael thinks he grimaces, but it’s hard to tell in the dark.

“It has been a while though, since I’ve indulged. And I've never participated frequently.” Every word seems like it’s forced out of Fred’s mouth.

“All this to say, Rafael,” Fred murmurs, inching closer across the sheets, “Is that the problem was never you.”

Rafael gathers him into his arms this time. Fred goes willingly, releasing a heavy, shaky breath and clearly relieved to not be talking about this anymore.

“I know,” Rafael reassures him. “I know it wasn’t me. I was just… I don’t know. I was worried.” He smiles, giving Fred another squeeze. “You’re a delicate little flower Freddie, I want to make sure I don’t trample all over you.”

“Get out of this bed this instant.”

Rafael laughs and they settle down to sleep.

***

The three of them celebrate in Rafael’s tiny Brooklyn apartment when Fred returns from Baltimore. He insists that he wants to cook and, though he had his doubts about his equally minuscule kitchen, manages to turn out an incredible ropa vieja. His mother would be proud.

When the empty plates are discarded on his coffee table, stacked haphazardly and waiting to eventually be washed by whoever loses the inevitable game of ‘who had the harder day’, Rafael sinks back into the couch and smiles benignly basking in the praise of the two of them and their company. Four days is starting to become too long to go between times when they’re all together and though he wants to frown at the unpleasant feeling of missing the both of them when they aren’t around he loves it a little bit as well. Every other wandering thought was of the two of them and he can’t deny that it's nice to feel these first desperate stirrings of a relationship again.

“I don’t know how you made all of that, Rafael. I’m pretty sure my cousin Caroline had a bigger kitchen in her dollhouse.” Fred surprises him when he leans closer to Rafael, snuggling contentedly against him. Rafael had told the third of their little trio that he and Fred had finally slept together--hiding things in a threesome was the quickest way to hurt feelings. Everyone was going to eventually do things without everyone involved and it’s best to just let that out in the open--but he hadn’t expected Fred to offer such casual affection so freely.

Rafael catches her looking at the two of them with a soft smile on her face and returns it with one of his own. She hid it well but she was a little disappointed during their FaceTime when he had warned her that Fred might not be overly demonstrative yet. Rafael knew she felt a little--guilty wasn’t the word she would use, he knew, if he could ever get her to talk about it--uncomfortable about how much more open Fred was with her than he was with Rafael. He loves how hard she tries to remind him that Fred is just anxious, cautious, a little scared. Rafael is a grown man and doesn’t need his hand held, but the fact that she tries to anyways makes his heart feel like it’s growing through his ribcage sometimes.

When Rafael looks back down at Fred he looks like he’s about to fall asleep with his head nuzzled against Rafael’s shoulder. He would describe it as endearing until Fred moves one of his hands high onto Rafael’s thigh. Rafael smirks.

“All it took was one night and he’s already falling for me,” he says to her in a stage whisper. Fred is unfortunately still awake enough to jab Rafael in the ribs, settling down only after the air is knocked out of Rafael’s lungs with an “oof”.

“As long as you remember to invite me to the wedding,” she teases. Rafael watches her duck admirably as Fred throws a cushion at her head.

“You’re supposed to throw a bouquet at me, not a pillow!”

[bridoesotherjunk]

Saw Spiderman - no way home:: My review with some spoilers!! I will be tagging for them.::::

I liked it! Over all rating? Hmmm, maybe like 7.7 or 8 out of 10.

Most of the movie was great! All of the parts with the older guys were better than any of the parts with the newer guys. Like, sorry Doctor Strange but Doc Ock has like 5 million times more charisma than you and Green Goblin is infinitely more interesting. I could watch them for hours.

All else going under a read more for spoilers 😒

There was some SHITTY writing in the film, though. I will be the first to say. The death scene and all of the dialogue right before it felt ham fisted and shoved in because "we needed it" I physically rolled my eyes and I am not joking.

The beginning was painfully slow and not funny at all. I wanted it to be over after like 30 seconds. As soon as we got to the point where old characters started showing up, the movie picked up the pace.

I missed Andrew Garfield and Tobey Maguire so much. I loved seeing them in the movie. They're such different Spidermen, but they're both so great. I wanted to give them both a hug. The banter between them was nice and felt like how my brother and I talk to each other. Felt like siblings. Andrew is best boy. Deserves so much love.

We didn't appreciate Andrew when he was Spidey, but everyone loves him now. Maybe they'll finally give him his third movie to give people closure. (And also let him be bi)

The fucking... the "great responsibility" quote was done SO BADLY in this movie. Oh my god it was fucking terrible 😭. It was so obvious they shoved that in there just for the sake of having that quote. Jesus Fuck. You should have had Tobey be the one to say that to Tom, you fucking idiots. Even I am smart enough to know that would have been better. He would have been passing on the Spiser wisdom. Stupid.

Eddie and Venom were so underutilized, but at the same time thank FUCK they were villains in this. Tom Hardy's Eddie would not beat the shit out of a teenager. He just wouldn't.

Leaving the little bit of the symbiote behind? Garbage. Trash can writing. Stupid as shit and absolutely fucking horrible. - Tom Hardy backed them into a corner, though, and they had almost no other options to do the black suit Spiderman that wouldn't involve making an entire other movie. His Venom just would not abandon Eddie for some random kid. He just wouldn't. Tom fucked them by making Eddie and Venom happy and in love. ... still dogshit writing, though. I will complain about that. (I do appreciate that Venom's first thought when drunk is to get Eddie naked. Gay little slime. )

The only part of the movie that made me cry was Peter saying goodbye to Ned. That was it. Not the death, not him saying goodbye to MJ. No. Ned is what got me.

[florenceandthemachine]

hear your heartbeat

happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.

Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.

On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.

He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?

There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.

Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.

“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).

What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.

(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)

At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).

He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.

They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.

He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.

(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.

She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.

“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”

Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.

He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?

Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ‘bitter and miserable’.

And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”

“Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.

“Stiles, I—“

“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“

“Laura—”

“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”

Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—

“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.

He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.

Please.

Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.

“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.

Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.

“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.

He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.

“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”

And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.

“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.

Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.

“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”

…stories?

He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.

“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“

“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.

“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”

Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”

Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.

It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”

“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”

“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”

“He’s younger than I am!”

“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.

The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.

No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.

“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”

“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.

“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.

“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”

He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.

“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.

(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)

“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”

Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.

Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.

He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.

Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.

“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“

Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.

“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”

Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.

“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”

—————

“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”

Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.

Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.

Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.

“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.

“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”

Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.

… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.

Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)

“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”

Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.

“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”

Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.

It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.

“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”

Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?

“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”

Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.

“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”

Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.

Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.

So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”

Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”

“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”

Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.

He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.

“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”

“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”

Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”

“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”

Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.

“Derek, I know.”

After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.

“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.

Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.

“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.

—————

Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”

Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”

Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...

“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”

Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.

It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.

Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.

Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.

Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.

(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)

His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.

“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”

“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”

Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.

No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?

“Dude, we’re friends, right?”

“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”

Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.

“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”

Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.

“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”

“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.

“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”

Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.

“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”

For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.

“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”

Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”

No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.

“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.

By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.

“I—you—what?”

“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”

Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.

Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.

It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).

“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.

“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”

Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.

Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—

Fake. It was all fake.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.

“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”

“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.

Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.

Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”

Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”

“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.

“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.

“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”

He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.

The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—

“Derek!”

—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.

Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.

He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.

Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.

“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”

He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.

“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”

”Mark—“

“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”

Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?

“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.

Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.

“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”

“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”

Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.

“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“

“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”

Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.

“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.

(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.

“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.

Fuck, he was cute.

Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.

“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”

The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”

Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.

“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.

“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.

“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”

Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”

They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.

“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.

He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.

“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”

He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.

Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.

He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.

Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.

“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”

Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“You are definitely something special.”

“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.

Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.

Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.

“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“

Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.

Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.

“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”

The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.

Fun times.

“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”

Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.

Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.

Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.

The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.

“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”

Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.

“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.

Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”

Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.

“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.

“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”

Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”

Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”

Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.

‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’

The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.

“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”

“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.

He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”

Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.

Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.

“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.

Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.

Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.

(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”

“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)

As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.

He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.

So yeah. Great time.

Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.

der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.

sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)

der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.

And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.

“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.

He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”

Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.

“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.

“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.

“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”

Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.

Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—

“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”

—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.

Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.

“Oh.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.

“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, Stiles—“

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.

Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.

“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”

Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—

...why was Derek blushing?

“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”

But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.

Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.

“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”

“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.

“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”

Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.

This was exactly where he belonged.

[internalsealpanic]

Lover, Tell Me, if You’re Able

Summary: You trek down to the underworld to save a certain Robin using your admittedly limited knowledge of Greek Mythology. Nothing a little moxie can’t fix right?

a/n: I’ve been wanting to do an Orpheus Eurydice thing with Jason for a while now. I’m pretty sure this has been done but I really wanted to take a stab at it. 

listen to this song while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zP47npl3rHo

warnings: angst, slight body horror, unhealthy grieving, bad decisions, and kind of an eating disorder caused by unhealthy grieving. There is some tooth rotting fluff though.  

word count:  5,049

You snorted in your usual short, breathy laugh—which according to certain asshats sounded less like a laugh and more like the death rattle of a hyena —as you nearly tripped over what felt like the fiftieth rock in the past half hour. You cursed quietly wrapping your shaking arms around yourself letting your unkempt fingernails dig into your thoroughly abused coat which probably had a few unwanted holes by now. It wasn’t even that cold nor was it even remotely scary. You know, aside form the ghostly moaning bouncing off the walls but that was par for the course in Gotham subways. No big deal. 

After what felt like the seventieth rock, you swore. You swore loud and vicious and cutting.  You swore to capital ‘G’ god that when you found Jason Peter Todd you were gonna curb stomp his ass into next week. This is his fault for being stupid enough to- to-

Just like that, your anger and frustration plummeted into grief.

Your mind fell back to the funeral, 

For the first since you entered the dark tunnel a few hours ago—a few days ago?—, you could feel the cavernous walls threatening to close in on you as you took another shaky step. 

To all the ‘I’m sorrys’ and condolences,

You could feel your rib cage fall open. Each gentle pat on, gentle look, and hushed whispers scooping out your insides leaving a vast empty cavity save for a heart that ached too much to beat properly and a pair of lungs clogged with too tar to breathe. The expanse of your chest feeling too full and too hollow at once. 

To all the ‘he died too young’ crap,

No shit!

No friggin shit!

He was 16. He was six-fucking-teen. He just got his fucking driver’s license. 

You wanted to scream but the words lingered in your bones. Instead, the nestled and furled into a mantra and worked their way up to your throat, burning. As if folding and creasing them into a perfect, proper eulogy of hand-picked words would bring him back. 

You knew it wouldn’t. You weren’t foolish. You weren’t that hopeful. You weren’t even disgustingly hopeful. You were Alley born. You were practical and brutally realistic. You were also not dumb. As much as people in Gotham Academy seem to believe, you weren’t stupid. You knew there was no ending to his story that involved a long peaceful life. He was also a child of the Alley, born of Gotham’s gutter, there was no way he would not die young. 

Your tongue felt heavy like a tombstone being set into place. 

And to all the ‘he’s in a better place now’

HA! 

The words set your grief a flame burning it into the kind of white anger that consumes even those around you. 

Fucking hilarious. 

Just fanfuckingtastic. 

You’d see about that. 

You took a long sobering breath holding it in afraid that if you breathed out the anger would seep out leaving you with nothing but grief. 

After what felt like an eternity, you breathed out sure that all the anger, all the irritation, and all the sputtering hope had settled in your bones. 

You were going to get him back. 

You will. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jason tapped the edge of your science textbook with his pencil morse coding something and clearly demanding your attention. You rolled your eyes, moved your textbook an inch closer to you, and continued reading through the passage electing to ignore your likely scowling best friend. 

He tapped again. You didn’t look up sure that he’d go away if you pretended his existence was an elaborate hoax. This ingenious strategy is probably why you two have been glued together for the last 10 years.  

Losing patience, he snatched up your textbook earning a petulant, half-hearted glare from you. “What the fuck do you want, Jay?”

“Do you remember the Myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

You blinked at him, honestly confused. 

He gave you a questioning look. He could probably see the gears turning in your head. 

You’d heard the names before but you were struggling to associate them with anything. Until it clicked. 

“Oh yeah, Hadestown the dude with the guitar-”

“Lyre,”

You made an affronted noise which made him roll his eyes at you but you could see the slight twitch in his lips at your antics. You would count that as a win. 

“He plays the lyre, you uncultured swine. Did you even read the packet?” He asked lightly tapping your head with your textbook. 

“Your posh bitch is showing,” you snorted.  he tapped your head just a tinsy bit harder with the textbook. You scowled at him. He gave you a gentle reassuring smile which roughly translated to ‘it was an accident I swear’. “Uh sure. Yeah. Course, I read the packet” you lied reaching over for your textbook which he sets down on the table behind him. 

“Are you even literate?” He joked. 

“Last time I checked I needed that to forge doctor’s notes for rich snots,” Jason wrinkled his nose trying his level best to scowl at you but from the crow's feet forming at the corners of his eyes the laughter bubbling in his chest was clearly winning out. You knew he was just worried about the unnecessary risk you were taking but it was a bad habit from the Alley days you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t like you were likely to get caught. 

“The In Class Essay is next period, dip shit” he sneered as harshly as he could. He was so bad at being a hard ass that you just smiled. “Yet here you are talking to me and depriving me of my education,” you snarked, gesturing vaguely to your book.

 You could technically get up and get it yourself but you were too lazy and you were pretty sure Jason wasn’t gonna let you get the book that easily. “Sides, it’s English who cares?” At that, Jason wrinkled his nose in disgust. “How am I friends with you again?”

You hummed, leaning back in your chair, tilting your head back dramatically before flinging yourself over the table to snatch up the textbook from the table behind him. You were a good amount taller than Jason which really wasn’t something to be too proud of. The bar wasn’t too fucking high. 

You plopped back down to your chair grinning ear to ear victoriously immensely enjoying his shocked look. Then he looked like he was about to deck you. 

“Well for starters, I’ve saved your ass from getting shanked about 15 times now. That’s just counting instances out of uniform,” He looked at you affronted. You simply rolled your shoulders. “Plus,” You reached into your blazer pocket and produced a beat-up looking tootsie pop ring.”You’re the one who proposed,”

Jason turned a luminescent shade of red as if you had just pulled out his entire cash of porn which you’ve done. “Why do you still have that?! How?”

“Because you still haven’t given me a proper one,” you said smugly tilting your head to the side inviting him for a rebuttal. He sighed exasperated. Resting his chin on his hand, palm covering half of his face, he glared at the opposite wall making damned sure that he didn’t look your way. The flush in his ears peaked through his cropped curls. It was hard to catch but your nosy ass definitely heard him mumble “I’m saving up,”. 

Your face broke into a stupidly wide smile, a warm feeling bubbling up in you. “I’ll hold you to that, lover,” you cooed cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the nose as the bell rang. You could see the mortification attack his entire being in waves. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Stumbling out of the tunnel, you find yourself in a fray of souls all crowding towards the shore. You keep your head down and shuffle in step with the dead. 

‘The dead hate the living’ Constantine warned as he handed you the drachma and a beat-up old map. You handed him a wad of cash. He didn’t seem to care that money was dirty. 

You keep your expression carefully blank and focus on your feet but the sheer anxiety crawling up your spine rattling every vertebra was making that very difficult. You swallowed thickly trying to think of anything else but the depressing moans and absolutely haunted expressions were also making your life difficult. Instead, you focus on your award-winning bullshit speech that was surely going to win over the lord and lady of the underworld. Ok, sure, you weren’t half the thief Jason was nor were you even half as smart. But you were definitely the better conman. You might have had absolutely no interest in English class but words have always been your friend. You could definitely spin it with the best of them. It helped that all the rough edges that came with being an Alley kid tucked themselves neatly away behind trustworthy eyes and easy smiles. Even gods could be taken for a ride, right?

Somehow you made it to the shore without incident and even got yourself on the boat without even as much as a glance from the ferryman. That was a little unnerving but you weren’t about to complain. Not when it brought you a step closer to your goal. It might have been partially due to your unkempt appearance. Long nails, dead fish eyes, ratty coat, sallow cheeks, and dimming complexion all thanks to this wonderful diet called ‘grieving over your dumbass boyfriend/best friend because he decided to be a dramatic bitch and die an untimely death’. Part of you wonders if you simply want to bring him back so you could murder him. Maybe. Looking around at the haunted looks on your fellow passengers move that to a probably. 

Uncomfortable, you jam your hands into your coat pockets. One hand dug deep into the recesses of the pocket where the little ring was safely squirreled away. You fidgeted with it passing it from finger to finger like the coin trick you’d learned a while back.   

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Marry me,” Jason demanded unsurely, kneeling on one knee clasping your hand with both of his tiny ones. His little face ironed into something serious but cheeks flushed making them, what the girls called, pinchable but even at age 6, you were able to resist if simply for the fact that you were dumbstruck by the fact that  your best friend and crush was suddenly at your doorstep in the middle of the day and clasping your hand. 

“What?” You asked tugging your hand away but he didn’t let go. He absolutely refused to. 

“Marry me,” he insisted. “I’m proposing,” he added shyly seeing how the confused furrow in your brow did not disappear. “Lena said it was a good idea,” he added quietly.

A round of hoots and hollers exploded behind you including Lena who was laughing her ass off. Even Carol and Lassie who were busy doing their makeup were snickering  and giving you a thumbs up respectively. Your face burned hot and you scowled at all of them which just made them laugh louder. You snapped your attention back to Jason who looked at you with bright earnest blue eyes. Fuck. You crossed your arms trying to look intimidating and failing miserably because of just how goddamned cute he looked. Manipulative bastard. 

“Don’t you need a ring for that, bud?” you challenged. 

“Oh yeah,” He scrambled digging through his various pockets before producing a tootsie pop ring. Your hackles rose. What the hell Lena?

“Look at the size of that rock!” Josaline hollered from behind you. You could see the teasing smile on her face. You wanted to shrink. You wanted to maul them. You also wanted to burst because your crush likes you. You had a tiny, itsy bitsy crush on Jason for a while now. You’ve always declared that it was small but that didn’t stop the girls from teasing you relentlessly and this was just a nail in the coffin. You wanted to scream at Jason but the way he looked at you made your little heart flutter. 

“Fine,” 

He grinned wide. “Great! We can share rent,” he said his earnest smile turning cheeky. You swore some of the girls were choking from laughter. That was the moment you decided to make Jason Todd’s life miserable. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

As it turns out, traversing the underworld wasn’t that hard. 

Nope. It wasn’t any harder than going around crime alley. At least here, you weren’t too worried about getting shot.

Nope. 

It was just incredibly. Fucking. Depressing. 

The atmosphere was suffocating and the only thing you’ve heard for hours were people listing their regrets when they weren’t too busy sobbing. Given they have every right to be this way. They did die after all. But Christ! You being able to understand it didn’t mean you could stand it. 

Jason owed you big time. 

Jason owed you the largest bowl of ice cream complete with 20 different flavors of your choosing, a mountain of whipped cream, a shovel full of sprinkles, and an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup. 

And a hug. A long ass, bone crushing hug. 

Yeah, you’re definitely demanding a hug. You don’t care if his pansy ass tries to break for it. You were getting the hug. 

Once this was done-

You turned the thought over in your head pointedly ignoring the fat droplets of tears now streaking your face. You weren’t entirely sure whether they were from relief or unrelenting anxiety. If you succeed, your 8 months of hell would have been worth it. 

But what if I fail?

What happens when I fail?

The thought seized your breath, your lungs constricting as if their cage of bones was threatening to collapse in on itself in your effort to shrink away from the possibility. You stopped breathing completely. A bad habit you picked up from your first foster home after social services took you from your home. Apparently, they didn’t think a group of hookers could provide a safe loving environment for a kid. Assholes. Breathing meant relaxing. Relaxing meant letting your guard down. Letting your guard down led to bad things. Jason never commented on your new habit after you two reunited. After you both found yourselves at the mercy of Gotham’s streets. 

“Lover tell me if you can~” You paused but not quite long enough for a response. Not like a few months ago when you’d wait catatonically for Jason to respond with the verse you’d forgotten in his oddly melodious voice. Singing was the one way you’d learned to breathe out after locking up without triggering a panic attack. Sure, it annoyed the hell out of a lot of people but who cares. You liked it. Your voice was decent. Plus, Jason loved it when you sang. Your breaths flowed easier accompanied by a melody and the smile on Jason’s face every time you sang always took your breath away.  

——————————————————————————————————————————-

“ Lover, tell me if you can Who’s gonna buy the wedding bands?~” You hummed the rest of the forgotten stanza under your breath as you wrap the ‘acquired’ blanket around the both of you. Gotham winters were a bitch but you tried your best to keep your spirits up which basically meant teasing Jason to hell and back. Who knew calling him lover would annoy him so much? 

Instead of the intended reaction, Jason simply continued to the next stanza sounding a lot more in tone than you. You huffed partially from amusement partially from frustration. 

“Figures you would know this song,” you teased.

Jason scowled tugging more of the blanket around himself as a lame form of retaliation. You leaned in closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. He huffed not really able to stay mad at you for too long.“It’s from Hadestown. The old woman at the pawnshop always plays it when she’s working,”

“Horse shit, all she ever plays when I’m there is Madame Guillotine,” You wrinkled your nose.”She probably hates me,”

“Gee, I wonder what that’s about,” Jason smirked. 

“You know, she probably has a crush on you,”

“EW! Shut up!”

“Come on we gotta milk it-”

He elbowed you. 

“Fine,” you relented, rubbing your chest and letting your head lean on his. You watched the snowfall basking in what little warmth you shared. 

“Promise me you’ll sing that when-”

“IF”

“When we get married,”

“Fine but ya gotta sing the entire GI Joe theme song plus the Baby Shark Song,”

“BET”

——————————————————————————————————————————-

You stood before large obsidian doors bouncing on the balls of your feet. The doors were carved elegantly with swirling patterns and sprawling carvings of flowers and bones. Dramatic but very pretty. Your stomach churned as the doors lurched open. 

You were going to be sick. 

Before you were a long table piled high with every kind of food you could think of. Likely you would have had to pick up your jaw and mop up a cascade of drool from the floor if not for the last few months. Your stomach threatened to implode if you kept looking. Months of not eating properly did that to you. The first few months were the worst. You were barely able to keep a  bite down without your body convulsing and rejecting it. Sadness had hollowed you out and filled you with something else during those months. 

Now,  you shifted your gaze to focus on the tall man sitting imperiously at the other end of the table on a throne carved out of precious metal. How someone looked imperious while eating was a mystery to you. It might be the fact that he was abnormally large looking to be around 10 ft tall. His frame was broad which contrasted greatly with the regal features of his face which were set in a rather loving configuration as he stared deep into the eyes of the dark-skinned woman as she recounted what sounded like a hilarious encounter with a dryad. The woman was unnaturally pretty with sculpted features and wild curls. She looked right at home underneath the sun which made her presence here ease your fraying nerves. They smiled at each other smitten with each other’s presence which almost made you feel guilty for interrupting their moment of marital bliss. 

You clear your throat as politely as you could drawing their attention and possibly their ire towards you. You took a deep breath, the kind that inflated your entire body, and forced it out through your nostrils as your mouth was busy reconfiguring itself into an easy smile. 

“My Lord Hades. My Lady Persephone,” You greeted bowing your head courteously. Your gestures were less grandiose and theatrical as the ones you used on the rich punks in Gotham which they happily lapped up. No, you made sure every movement, every posture, and every word was quieter, trying your damnedest to radiate sincerity and reverence from every pore in your body. Sure, you didn’t have Jason’s easy charisma and sure, you didn’t have the power Dick had for making everyone fall in love with you instantly but you were damned if  you were going to make a fool of yourself in front of two literal gods and squander your only chance at getting your boy back. Not when you’ve come so far. Not when you’ve done so much. Not when you’ve dirtied your hands this much. 

Hades looked neither pleased nor displeased by your presence. Good enough. The fact that you were still intact might have something to do with the mischief in Persephone’s eyes. She looked extremely amused despite your interruption. You hoped, which you didn’t normally do, that that boded well for you. 

“I am her-”

“We know,” Hades interrupts. 

Your body twitched. Rude. But you schooled your features into something resembling pleasantry. 

“You’re here for the boy,” He adds, waving his hand. Without time for your brain to process. Jason is there battered, bloodied, and bruised. The dazed look in his eyes made him look haunted which made your breath seize. A cocktail of anger and sadness and relief swelled in you as your body twitched forward. All you wanted to do was hold him, to stroke his hair, to sing to him, to take him to Dr.Thompkins to get his injuries sorted out, and possibly watch the old woman thwack him on the head half a dozen times. Hell, you would offer to count. Your stomach churned and you felt dizzy. This is the most alive you’ve felt in months. This is also the most fearful you’ve felt in months. You felt like you were going to fall apart and recongeal into an entirely new person. 

Focus. 

It was hard to do when you saw how tattered his Robin uniform looked but you managed to straighten yourself out enough in time to catch Hades as he watched you appraisingly, searching for raw desperation in your features. You tucked it away in your bones and in the deepest recesses of your chest. He seemed amused and even mildly impressed by your restraint so he dined to push further. 

“What are you willing to trade for him?”

Everything. 

Your mind screamed automatically. The word dangled thickly at the edge of your tongue. 

You would have plucked each and every star out of the sky and fashioned them into a necklace that would adorn Lady Persephone’s neck.

You would have used Poseidon’s ocean to douse the sun. 

You would have used the fires of Tartarus to set the world ablaze. It deserved it for the hand it dealt  Jason. 

You would do anything if it meant having Jason back in your arms. 

You bit your cheek hard forcing yourself to refocus. You shifted your posture making a show of thinking if only to gather yourself. You knew the answer. It might not have been the right one and if you’re being honest, it wasn’t even a good one. You rolled your shoulders trying to mold yourself into a more sure version of yourself.  

“My future,”

The room plunged into silence. 

Jason who had looked like he was not all there widened his eyes and shook his head at you. You simply leveled him a smile full of cocksure and hot air. Sure, your future wasn’t worth much. People have told you as much. But it was a novel offer. It wasn’t every day that a mortal offered their fate to you and gods love nothing more than novelty. 

Both gods remained silent. Hades narrowing his eyes at you and Persephone stared at you with an unreadable expression. The longer the silence wore on the more your confidence waned. The treacherous chorus in your head began to sing of the failure that has yet to happen. 

Persephone let out a trill of delighted laughter and Hades shook his head in amusement, his solemn lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile. Both you and Jason stiffened. 

“My love, just let them go,” Persephone pleaded sweetly cupping Hades’s face gently. It was an intimate gesture that made even you soft. 

“My dear…”

“It was not the boy’s time, my love,”

Damn straight, it wasn’t!

Hades let out an exasperated sigh before looking at you again. “I will grant you both freedom if you pass my trials,”

“Anything!” The word spilled out of you too quickly, too raw. A satisfied smile wrinkled at the corners of Hades’s eyes. Fucker. 

“I will have you do three trials-” He flicked his hand and Jason materialized beside you. “-with the boy’s aid,” Without an ounce of hesitation, you gathered him into your arms with all the bravado and restraint giving way too stupidly unfiltered happiness.  Without meaning to, you let fat droplets of tears streak your face. Jason copped your face giving you a wry smile and wiping away the tears with his thumb. 

“You look like shit,”

“So do you,”

You both laughed. You kissed his palm and took his hand from your face and kissed his knuckle. A flush crept on to Jason’s face but he couldn’t hide that any better than he could hide the loving look in his eyes when he looked into yours. 

The trials were almost insultingly easy especially when you had the world’s best Robin with you. Sure, you were battered and bruised but it was nothing you could not handle. You suspected that Persephone was rooting for you. That or Hades just wanted you out of his hair. Either way, you didn’t care. There was no way you were failing. 

You returned to Hades’ hall, arms full of spoils, and Jason’s hand interlaced with yours. You both try to fight off the hopeful feeling bubbling in your chest but there was no helping it when his hand was warm in yours. You smiled gratefully at Persephone who returned it in kind, looking sincerely happy for the both of you. You made a note to send her an appropriate sacrifice once you were back on the surface. 

Hades inspected your spoils and hummed. Your stomach lurched. Jason squeezed your hand and kissed your nose. Persephone practically squealed at the adorable gesture while Hades just smiled at his wife’s antics. 

“You have succeeded,”

“Thank you-”

“But I have one last trial for you,”

Hades holds up his hand before you could protest. 

“Do you recall the deal I made with Orpheus?”

You nodded almost numbly. Jason gave you a surprised look which you returned with a scowl. 

“Good. I will make the same deal with you. Does that sound fair to you?”

You both nodded frantically. You knew this would be hard especially with your frayed nerves but it was nothing you could not handle.

On the way to the tunnel, you held each other close, soaking up contact while you could. When you reached the tunnel, you hesitantly let go of his hand making sure to remember the feeling of your fingers intertwined together. He pressed kisses to every inch of your face likely feeling guilty over your haggard state. You whispered jokes and half baked promises to appease him in return as you squeezed him harder.  You walked tensely up the tunnel trailed by his ever quieting footsteps. You began to hum every song you could think of including the very annoying ones which earned you a lot of annoyed grunts and critiques from your ghostly companion. You also chattered about everything you could think of. All the latest gossip. All the things you learned during your global crime spree. You may have left out the crime spree but you could deal with the fall out later. Instead, you focused on the happy things. The things you wanted to do with him once you two got out. Once, you brought him back to Gotham. Sure, Bruce was probably going to maul you for all the trouble you’ve caused the JLA but fuck them.  Seriously fuck them. 

After what felt like an eternity, you saw it. You saw light. Bright, crisp, and blinding. You were going to cry. You were almost there. You were almost out. Your body launched into a sprint. Your chest felt like something in it shook loose and your body was lighter than it had ever been. You were almost there. You could almost feel the sun on your skin. 

You ran into the light and -

——————————————————————————————————————————-  

You woke up on the damp earth. 

Everything ached. 

Your veins felt rusty and sluggish. 

Your mind even more so. 

Snow flitted down to the earth in gentle feathery flakes. 

Your senses returned to you one by one. 

The sound of shouting and car horns littered the periphery of your consciousness. 

Your fingers felt cold and numb. 

The familiar smell and taste of Gotham smog overwhelmed your senses. 

That wasn’t right. 

That wasn’t right at all. You were in Mani in southern Peloponnese. You were face to face with one of the Gates of Hades just a few hours ago. 

You shuffled through your coat. You did not have your drachma. You did not have your map.

You snapped your head in every direction looking desperately for any sign of Jason. Not even a single footprint. 

Your stomach dropped as despair took hold of you and clung to every bone in your body. Pulling yourself up unsteadily, you stood taking baby steps towards a thoroughly battered brick wall. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, your phone began dialing a number automatically. 

“You have reached Wayne Manor,” Alfred’s posh voice carries over the phone. 

Your breath stutters. The words claw their way out of your chest.

“Jason- Jason, he-”

Alfred remained silent. Alfred was likely shaking his head in pity. You couldn’t stand that. You could barely stand the feeling of your skin right now. Your resounding failure rippled underneath your skin making you tremble on to your knees. You could do nothing but crumple to the ground in pathetic sobs as the weight of agony and despair weighed over you. 

“Jason. Jason. Jason.”

You whispered apologetically, reverently. The words would not call him back. Those words could never call him back. 

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Piece by piece Jason returned to himself. 

Jason woke up swallowed in darkness. It was deep and unyielding. Even his training with Batman could not alleviate the anxiety that brought. 

The second thing to return was his hearing. It was deathly silent save for the pounding of his own heart and his frantic breathing. 

 Where was he?

The air around him tasted stale and the resolute smell of formaldehyde was inescapable. 

Then the pain lanced through and all his memories came back in a splotchy kaleidoscope of fear, fire, and pain.

  He was dead. 

  He died. 

  He was in Ethiopia. 

  He was trying to save his mom. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god. 

  Where is Bruce? 

  Where is he? 

  Why is it so dark? 

  Jason tried to move his limbs but it was no use. He was boxed in. 

  That’s when the smell of earth hit him. 

  Jason pressed his hands every which way. 

  He was literally boxed in. 

  Was he in a coffin?

  He tried to scream. 

  His mouth was wired shut. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god.

  Oh god. 

  He was going to die.  

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

The ending was a bit rushed. I might edit it later. Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to roast me in the comments. 

(Note: I tried editing the ending to make it more panicky and claustrophobic. I don’t know if t worked.)

This was inspired by the fact that Jason Todd: Not-So-Outlaw by goawayolivia never answers how Jason came back. 

Here is my answer. It is pure dumbassery.

taglist: 

@birdy-bat-writes (enabler)

@idkmanicantenglish (sweet heart)

@batarella (Because I honestly blame you for this)

@multifandomgirl-us

@foenixphire

[the-black-bulls]

“which Black Clover character energy do i give off?”

(btw: I am SO turning this into a first date question! If he can’t even at least attempt to answer this - then there probably won’t be a second date😒)

To answer though… based on my interactions with you and this blog… 🤔 I’d say your a pretty nice combo! Like somewhere between a combination of Finral, Magna, Zora, Julius, Gauche/Owen, & occasional bit of Dorothy

Finral because you seem to be very nice at heart and try your best to interact with everyone

Magna because you definitely come across as knowing when/how to have some crazy fun (do it now, remember it later kind of fun)

Zora because, maybe it’s the incorrect quotes, but when you show sarcasm… it’s executed at awesome expert level like you have a doctoral degree in it 👍

Julius because while you come across as fun you still show a sense of politeness and decorum when needed but you still have the kind of imp-like ‘fun glint in your eye’ type of aura about you

Gauche/Owen whom I group together on the basis of them being some of the smartest in the series; when they’re talking about something, they almost always know exactly what they are talking about (Owen being the ‘can immediately pull source/book off shelf to prove himself right if you question him’ type of knows what he’s talking about and Gauche sometimes exuding the “change my mind” meme type of knows what he’s talking about but not just in a stubborn way - Gauche mostly always does know exactly what he’s talking about) I would’ve put Fuegoleon for smarts too… boy is an incredible tactical strategist… but Mereoleona and others have proven many different times he can be socially aloof at times so he’s got a little more ways to go in social smarts I’d say

& occasional bit of Dorothy (her awake personality) because (this does kinda tie into the marts category but still felt like it’s own thing in a way) whenever theories/predictions/hypotheticals are discussed, you always seem to, again - know exactly what you’re talking about, but you also know how to evoke your tone to play the discussion if that makes any sense? You’re very good at using intonation with just your wording/phrasing without necessarily needing to hear you physically say it with your voice. You know when do come off as agreeable, when to be straightforward, however your tone plays out in the discussion at hand, at least to me, you have a knack for shifting tone at the right moments to evoke your own perspective without coming across as manipulative.

Too many words, too many colors, too many names, and that little note at the beginning (dating is scaryyyy). Must you scare the shit out of me and take a long, deep, thoughtful look at my soul?

Lol kidding, just little overwhelmed. Sound like you had fun though and that's nice. This is an already long ask so I'll keep my thoughts under the cut 😀

Finral: Good boy, good vibes. Gotta keep this energy.

Magna: I'm flattered honestly xD

Zora: Ha I love sarcasm. Most quotes have sources and aren't mine but I love to pick specific characters in certain quotes just for shit and lolz. Like sometimes I'll change some lines and add others just because there's a joke in my head and I know no one will pick it but god I think it's so funny and I need to do it.

Julius: You know what... you get it absolutely right. I want Julius to live with the BBs since he's 13 years again. He has done enough, he deserves to geek out to his heart's content haha.

Gauche/Owen: Pretty interesting take. I'm ain't a smart but good to know I act like one. You bet I don't know what I'm doing most of the time no wait I think I relate to fuegoleon xD

Dorothy:

Huh.

HUH.

[whoovesnassistant]

A Hello, A Thank You, And A Brain Dump.

Dear PwPP team,

     I am a recent fan, and I am quite an odd one. I am a lover of everything Doctor Who, so much so I have memorized everything about the Doctor and his interactions during the 2005 revival. Yet since I have watched basically all the doctor who media I had access to (Excluding the most recent season because it does not interest me in the slightest, no offence to 13’s actor) I was without any Doctor Who content that actually interested me.

      Well until I made a discovery. You see, when I was moving to a new house, I found a figure I did not remember owning. It looked like a My Little Pony version of Doctor number 10. It fascinated me because It was officially licensed! So, I went down a rabbit hole, and found a whole new Doctor Who community, lost to YouTube, or even, Internet time entirely.

       That’s a little bit of a dramatization, but the point still stands that I discovered something that a lot of people forgot. The thing is, I know nothing about the My Little Pony area of fandoms, but I found this new world of Doctor Who so fascinating. Not only that, but it was a whole community!

       It was intoxicating! Doctors that I’d never dream of! And actually seeing the doctor see something he truly did not know! But most of all… people who understood what made Doctor Who, Doctor Who.

       I’m not a My Little Pony fan, not in the slightest, but as a Doctor who fan, your series is beyond stellar! I know when people understand Doctor Who or not, and you all did know on a level I don’t even thing some real Doctor Who show writers do! Also, your adaptation of the doctor feels so real, it is just stellar! 

       So, now I have to thank you, all of you. You gave me hope about the future of Doctor who will be bright and full of life! You let me see a new world of story telling. I never saw audio plays used like a legitimate series to such effectiveness and its truly brilliant and has inspired me to try to work on something similar, in due time.

        Yet, lastly, thank you so much for the pure, utter joy your work emanates. Yet again, I’m only a Doctor Who fan, but this  series has genuinely gave me more enjoyment that some Doctor Who episodes. It is just, raw, stupid, enjoyable, and oh so timey-wimy fun! Even with some real Doctor Who-esc  dark/sad moments that makes it feel like I’m listening to a real BBC and Hasbro collaboration!

       In fact, the work of your team gave me a Idea for a episode I just couldn’t keep in my head. I know you most likely have plans for all the future audio plays, but I  am a story teller through and through, so consider the last part of this letter like a pitch. Yet again, I’m not trying to be entitled and be like “Here’s my idea, Now make it!”, no I literally have no other living soul to share this idea with and its killing me.

        Now if I had to title it, it would be a two part play called “Turn Timer” and “Pestering Past”. “Turn Timer” would start with the Tardis crew just bumbling around in time and space. Maybe heading from or to an adventure. Yet when the Tardis enters modern times, it gets thrown off course due to a temporal blackhole (Or something?) making the Tardis materialize in front of a mansion that should not exist, that stands right dead center in the Evergreen Forest (if I got it wrong don’t kill me). The master of the house would be a unicorn named Turn Timer, and would be letting any travelers stay.

       Yet when the Doctor reluctantly stays in a room, they discover that some of the travelers have been seeing a hairless ape-like creature attacking residence, even Turn Timer who would have been attacked, saying that they just popped up a few months ago and he’s been trying to cover it up for business.

      Soon, after the Doctor and Tick Tock (Sorry but I have to say this here, that name did NOT age well) go off without Derpy who does not quite trust Turn Timer because…. well I made the name reverse Time Turner for a reason. Yet both the Doctor and Tick Tock does not notice the clearly weird name, so that means duel plot! Yay!

       Eventually the smart duo would figure out that these creatures are just human like Autons. Yet, since humans, or even humanoids, don’t exist in this universe, this is extremely odd (at least I think,  I still know jack about My Little Pony). Also Imagine this would lead into some funny jokes about how the Doctor needs to explain what the hell a human is, and I just imagine Tick Tock confused Autons being exactly like humans and not just modeled by them.

       Meanwhile, Derpy would be grilling Turn Timer (Also again, only a Doctor Who fan but I can just imagine the Donna theme here and it makes me smile) and I Imagine that 70% of this second plot would be jokes. Until before the Auton realization, where Turn Timer makes the mistake of saying Doctor instead of Time Turner (Which I assume he would sign in as) and would be forced to knock out Derpy. Now, after they figure out the Autons are Autons, and the jokes are done, I’m guessing that Turn Timer would project some sort of communication hologram or magic thingy to the Doctor so they can have an exchange that goes along like this.

   TuTi   “Hello Doctor! Sorry but i did not expect for your assistant to be able to see past my perception field.”

 Doc    “ What did you do to Derpy Turn Timer?”

     TiTo “and what perception field?”

   TuTi “ Oh don’t be daft, Doctor! I swear ever since you regenerated you have become so thick! you can’t even see what is so clearly obvious!  You only know one person who would know the correct configuration for a humanoid Auton, and be smart enough to do it! ”

    Doc, in his serious voice, “ Who are you?”

     TuTi, Outraged “Don’t act like you don’t know! We are best friends! The bestest of friends that have ever existed. Long before you started taking your pets onto your Tardis.  You know deep down, and you are running away from it! Like you ran away from your universe! Our Universe! I am tired of seeing your adventures in this world like you did not live in another.”

    TiTo “Who are you then?”

    Doc, still serious “Don’t humor him”

      TuTi “ Oh Doctor….Can’t even ask your own questions anymore can you? How far you have fallen from what you once were. You once could snap your fingers and make army’s turn and run away. Now you can’t even keep your pets (Companions) on a tight enough leash anymore.”

      Doc “ Wait, fingers? how did you-”

     TuTi “Oh now you are getting it. Finally, we are getting back the Doctor that counts. My Doctor, The Oncoming Storm! The Great Exterminator! The Destroyer of Skaro! And lastly, The Timelord Victorious!”

     Doc panicked and angered yelling (Probably) “Who are you?”

     TuTi “ Finally…. Well… I am the master of the house.. the Master! Of the house.”

   That is where “Turn Timer” would end and go into “Pestering Past”, which would pick up with the Master finishing his evil monolog and him and Derpy being in some sort of cave with the Masters Tardis being rigged as a paradox machine. Derpy would probably be in some sort of status field but still being able to interact with the Master.

     I am sure they would discuss why the Master was so obsessed with getting the Doctor to recognize him. The fact that in the Doctor Who universe,  The Master was so utterly empty without his “Best Friend” he could not stand to exist in a world without him, So he tracked the Doctor down, even through different universes just so he could have fun with his “Best Friend”.

     Also probably  telling Derpy more about the Doctor than he has. And most likely telling stories about when the Doctor was very angry, and why he is the last of the timelords.  I thought this would be a very interesting thing to pop up later on, a Derpy is wondering if the Doctor is worth being around if they could do such a thing then turn around and say its horrid.

    On the topside, I’m imagining the Doctor more scared and upset than seen in your audio plays. The fact that he came to a whole new universe, a place to make a new start and have less weight to carry, has been shattered by probably the only person that could have followed him. And to make it worse, it was someone who knows almost as much as the Doctor without his self control, and knowledge of his past life.

     When the Doctor and the New Master meet face to face, I imagine it would be a battle of chaotic personalities on each side. Also, In my characterization of the Master, I think he would be sarcastically energetic to counteract the Doctors normal energetic craziness. Also, for the hell of it, let’s make the Master obsessed with pegasi instead of unicorns because narrative symbolism.

      Lastly, we would learn that creatures that don’t belong in the world of My Little Pony (Cybermen and Terror are my best examples) where caused by the Masters Paradox machine. This gives a reason why they appeared and connects things in a neat little bow. Also gives a reason for Tick Tock to be mad too, due to the fact that the Master indirectly fueled the war he lost his family and time period for.

      And that’s all I have. I don’t know how it would end except I think the Master would snatch Derpys Tardis key to use it to make something to keep tabs on the Tardis crew.

     I’m sorry that half of this thank you and appreciation letter was more about my ideas than how I adore yours. Everyone on the PwPP crew to me is absolutely stellar! You all have made something truly amazing from a Doctor Who story telling standpoint. Lastly, please have fun making your audio plays or whatever you go on to do. It breaks my heart watching people create and have no fun in it.

With love and appreciation,

Raven.

We’re happy this show has brought you plenty of Doctor Who entertainment, even if you’re not an MLP fan. It’s always fun to learn about people who are generally a fan of one but not the other, who are still big fans of our series.

We aren’t really taking any ideas since we have a solid outline of what the rest of the episodes will be, and we can’t really reveal what characters might be appearing later. Your idea was a fun take on the Master though, perhaps consider writing a fanfic, as I’m sure people would enjoy it and we’ll be willing to post fanfics here.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

The Avengers: Part Four

Pairing: Loki x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: canon violence and angst

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Bruce is playing doctor in a small town in Pakistan where there are very sick people who are in need of real help. You hate to pull him away from this but Fury needs him. Fury got a contact of his to lure Bruce away from his duties and to an abandoned house on the outskirts of town where you are with dozens of agents surrounding the place. Bruce won't be able to see them since they're all in hiding, and you hope you won't have to need them.

The young girl races into the house and escapes through the back window, successfully completing her part.

"Should have got paid up front, Banner," he sighs.

"You know, for a man who's supposed to be avoiding stress, you picked a hell of a place to settle," you grin and make yourself known.

Bruce looks at you and for a split second, he smiles at the thought of seeing a friend. However, if you're here seeking him, then something must be wrong and the smile is dropped from his face.

"Avoiding stress isn't the secret."

"Then, what is it? Yoga?"

"You brought me to the edge of the city... smart. I assume the whole place is surrounded?"

"It's just you and me. It's good to see you, Bruce."

You move closer to hug him but he backs away from you. He thinks it's better if he keeps his distance from you.

"Are you here to kill me, Y/N? Because that's not gonna work out for everyone."

"No. I'm here on behalf of SHIELD."

"How did they find me?"

"They never lost you, Doctor. I need you to come in."

"What if I say no?"

"That's not very nice. After everything I've done for you."

Bruce smiles a bit at this.

"What if the... other guy says no?"

"Come on, I think he likes me a bit more than he likes you," you joke. "I do need you to come in on this. Bruce, we're facing a potential global catastrophe."

"Well, those I actively try to avoid," he chuckles.

You walk to the table and sit down, and you take out your phone to pull up the file on the Tesseract. Once you have it, you slide it across the table toward him. Bruce takes out his glasses and inspects the file on your phone.

"This is the Tesseract. It has the potential energy to wipe out the Planet. It's what gave me my powers, as you know."

"What does Fury want me to do? Swallow it?"

"He wants you to find it. It's been taken. It emits a gamma signature that's too weak for us to trace. I am not enough, apparently, and with your help, we can find it. There's no one that knows gamma radiation like you do. If there was, that's where I'd be. You know I wouldn't be here unless it was absolutely necessary. You made me promise that."

"So, Fury isn't after the monster?"

"I wouldn't call him that."

"What would you call him?"

"Confused. Unable to place his anger properly."

"Monster sounds better to me."

"Just talk to Fury. He needs you on this."

"He needs me in a cage?"

"No one's gonna put you in a--"

"STOP LYING TO ME!"

Bruce slams his hands down on the table in an attempt to scare you but you don't react in the way he was hoping you would. Instead, you lean back and cross your arms with a sigh.

"I'm not afraid of you. I've seen scarier and bigger than the Hulk. I'm the one person who isn't scared of you, Bruce. Remember?"

You hold out your hand, palm up to the ceiling. He looks at it in thought before putting his normal hand, face up, on top of yours. You take the same hand and touch his palm, move it to his wrist, and slide your fingers from his wrist to his palm along his vein.

"Sun's getting real low," you smile. Bruce's smile tells you everything you need to know, and this time, you do give him a hug. He returns the gesture, and you pull away from him after a few seconds. "It's a track and report only. That's it. I'll do the heavy lifting for you."

"Okay," he nods.

"Stand down." You touch the small earpiece in your ear to signal to the agents outside. "We're all clear here."

"Just you and me, huh?"

You give him a shrug in response. Now that you have Bruce and Natasha on board, the only person who needs convincing is Steve. Phil is getting Tony on board but you have a feeling it won't take much to convince him to be a hero. If Phil shows him enough footage of the damages that have happened over the years, his interest will be piqued.

Steve has been working out a lot lately, trying to fight the memories that keep coming back to him from the 1940s. His go-to move is the punching bags even though he's been through two of them already. You're sitting on the bench watching as Steve punches the bag repeatedly, each one harder than the last. With his strength, he'll break another one. Luckily, he has seven other bags lying on the floor for him to go through.

With each punch, Steve's rage builds. If it gets to the boiling point, then there's no telling what he'll do.

"Steve, that's enough," you say. He doesn't respond to you so you get up and walk over to him. You stand in front of him and grab the punching bag before he rips it to shreds. "Steve, look at me." He rears his hand back for a final punch, and you move out of the way knowing how hard he's going to hit it. When his fist makes contact with the bag, it busts open and goes flying across the room, spraying sand everywhere. He stands there panting heavily when you approach him carefully. "Steve, look at me." This time, he does. You can see the emotion in his eyes. "I miss him, too. You're not alone. I'm right here."

Steve sighs and grabs another punching bag to hook up. He slows his breathing down before resuming his punching, and that's when Nick Fury walks into the gym.

"Trouble sleeping?"

"I slept for seventy years, sir. I think I've had my fill," Steve grunts and punches the bag again.

"Then you should be out, celebrating, seeing the world. What, you didn't want to take him sightseeing, Y/N?"

"If only it were that easy."

Steve takes a break from punching and walks over to his gym bag. He removes the white wraps that are secured tightly around both hands.

"When I went under, the world was at war. When I woke up, they said we won. They didn't say what we lost. Are you here with a mission, sir?"

"I am."

"Trying to get me back in the world?"

"Trying to save it." Fury hands Steve the file he has on the Tesseract along with files on Hydra's other projects. "Recognize it?"

"Hydra's secret weapon."

"Howard Stark fished that out of the ocean when he was looking for you. He thought what we think, that the Tesseract could be the key to unlimited sustainable energy. That's something the world sorely needs."

"Who took it from you?"

"He's called Loki." Steve looks at you but you have your head down. "He's not from around here. There's a lot we'll have to bring you up to speed on if you're in. The world has gotten even stranger than you already know."

"At this point, I doubt anything would surprise me," Steve scoffs and hands the file back to him.

"Ten bucks says you're wrong. There's a debriefing package waiting for you back at your apartment." Steve grabs one of the punching bags and hauls it over his shoulder with his gym bag in the other hand. Looks like you're heading back home. "Is there anything you can tell us about the Tesseract that we ought to know now?"

"You should have left it in the ocean."

He does have a point. You and Steve head back to your apartment where there is, in fact, a file waiting for Steve to look over. He disappears into his room with it and doesn't come out until you have dinner placed on the table.

"Did you read it all?"

"Yeah."

"What do you think?"

"I think Loki is a bad guy with bad intentions. He should be stopped." It hurts to hear that Loki is a bad guy when you know he isn't. Steve sees the look of sadness on your face. "What, you disagree?"

"I think the Tesseract is a very powerful thing that humans don't know how to control. It's an Infinity Stone. It's very powerful. Humans aren't advanced enough to harness its power, and it's going to hurt a lot of people if we don't get it back."

"I wasn't talking about the Tesseract."

"Look, my feelings for Loki are complicated. Yes, I fell in love with him. Yes, he's done bad things but that doesn't make him a terrible person. I think he's hurt and confused which can lead to dangerous outcomes. I don't like talking about Loki, okay? Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah," Steve says after a moment.

If you're going to talk about something as serious as Loki and the Tesseract, you need a secure place to do it. Fury has a boat that he wants everyone on, so you, Phil, and Steve take a jet to get there. Tony will fly in on his own while Bruce and Natasha will take separate jets. What's it going to be like when you finally see Natasha after two years? You didn't mean to leave her stranded on the beach. Will she hate you? Despise you? Go running back into your arms?

How would that make you feel if she did? Who would you be betraying if she did? On one hand, Loki is right in front of you as broken as ever, waiting for you to come and save him. On the other hand, your heart also belongs to Bucky. Your love life is fucked up that you sometimes wish to be away from it all just to be able to think... breathe...

A picture of Bucky is in your hand, and you run your thumb down the black-and-white photo. It's of him in his uniform as he sits up straight with a smile. He wasn't too keen on going into battle but was forced to, and the only reason he's smiling in this picture is because you're behind the camera making faces for him.

He has such a nice smile... had.

"Wow, you got Bucky to smile for once?" Steve jokes when he sees the picture. He looks at your face and immediately knows something is wrong. "What's wrong?"

"I feel like I'm betraying him for how I feel about Loki," you whisper, not wanting Phil to hear.

"Bucky would have wanted you to live your life, not dwell on it."

"Yeah," you sniffle and put the photo away.

"We're about forty minutes out from the base, sir," the pilot says to Phil.

"So, this Doctor Banner was trying to replicate the serum that was used on me?" Steve asks Phil.

He is given a tablet to watch some videos of the people he's going to meet. The one that interests him the most is Bruce's file.

"A lot of people were. You were the world's first superhero. Banner thought gamma radiation might hold the key to unlocking Erskine's original formula."

"Didn't really go his way, did it?"

"Not so much. When he's not that thing though, the guy is like Stephen Hawking." Steve looks confused. "He's, like, a smart person. I gotta say, it's an honor to meet you, officially." Steve smiles at him. "I sort of met you, I mean, I watched you while you were sleeping." Steve's smile is lost and he gets up to put some distance between him and Phil, although, the agent follows him. "I mean, I was... I was present while you were unconscious from the ice."

"You're doing great, Phil," you give him a thumbs up.

"You know, it's really just a huge honor to have you on board."

"Well, I hope I'm the man for the job."

"Oh, you are. Absolutely. Just so you know, we've made some modifications to the uniform. I had a little design input."

"The uniform? Aren't the stars and stripes a little old-fashioned?"

"With everything that's happening, and the things that are about to come to light, people might just need a little old-fashioned."

Forty minutes later, you reach the helicopter landing strip on an enormous helicarrier in the middle of the ocean. You step foot off the plane and are greeted by Natasha. This is it. This is the moment you'll find out if she's pissed at you or completely forgiven you.

"Agent Romanoff. Captain Rogers. You already know Y/N," Phil makes the introductions.

"Hi, Nat," you smile softly.

"Hi."

You two stare at each other for what seems like hours. She shakes her head and turns to Phil, and you look down apprehensively.

"They need you on the bridge for the face scan."

"See you in there," Phil says and leaves the group.

"There was quite the buzz around here, finding you in the ice," she says to Steve. You're kind of glad she is talking about anything other than what happened between you two, but you're also sad she isn't. "I thought Coulson was gonna swoon. Did he ask you to sign his Captain America trading cards yet?"

"Trading cards?"

"They're vintage. He's very proud."

Bruce had arrived at the same time as you and Steve but he is a bit more confused with soldiers and workers moving around him. He tries to step one way but ends up almost knocking into people. He's very nervous. You'd be if you were in his shoes.

"Dr. Banner."

Steve leaves Nat's side to join the doctor's, and you look at Natasha as you approach her.

"Nat, listen, I--"

"I'd rather not talk about that right now. We have a job to do. Let's just do it."

Great. She's pissed at you.

"Right," you whisper.

"Gentlemen, you may wanna step inside in a minute. It's gonna get a little hard to breathe," Natasha says, stepping away from you.

Suddenly, the helicarrier starts shaking as it prepares to take off. The noise of it creaking makes you think of a submarine.

"Is this a submarine?" Steve asks, having thought the same as you.

"Really? They wanted me in a submerged pressurized metal container?" You, Steve, and Bruce walk to the edge to see four huge fans mounted on the sides of the ship spin faster. The faster they spin, the higher you lift into the air. "Oh, no, this is much worse."

The helicarrier starts to rise high in the sky. The entire ship is covered with reflective mirrors so that wherever it goes, it reflects off its surroundings, becoming almost invisible. Yup, a super secret place to research super secret topics

x

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[wrenhyperfixates]

Of All the Places

Chapter 5

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: Washing up in a small town in Oklahoma was definitely not part of Loki’s plan when he came to conquer Midgard. There is one good thing about it, though: No one recognizes him as the one who just wreaked havoc in New York. So, Loki plans to recover from the battle and move on with his life. The only problem? He’s not sure he can leave you. Chapter Summary: The arrival of someone from your life before Loki knew you throws his head into a tailspin. He finally has to come face to face with his emotions. Chapter Warnings: a lot of sarcasm, tiny bit of angst, and fluff A/N: Thanks to everyone who’s been reading and/or chatting to me. I love hearing your thoughts on this, and I hope you enjoy the latest installment :) Updates every Friday.

Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiantfavs​ @lunarmoon8​ @twhiddlestonsstuff​

✥ Start at Beginning ✥ | ← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

The sun beat down on Loki as he handed the carefully packaged eggs to the customer he was helping. It was the first time since his arrival on the farm that you were participating in a local farmer’s market, and he was doing his best to assist despite his less than ideal people skills.

“Have a nice day,” you called after the man as he walked away. “I’ll tell you one thing about your life, Loki. There is absolutely no way you worked in customer service.”

“No, I suppose not,” he agreed with a chuckle.

“Speaking of, you haven’t remembered anything else, have you?”

“I have not, but if I do, I promise you will be the first to know.”

“Mama’s not entirely wrong about the missing person ad,” Ana chimed in, taking the jam jar Matt had just picked up out of his hands. “It couldn’t hurt. Though I can think of a few reasons why you might not want to do it.”

Loki looked away as his cheeks flushed. He was thankful you were already with another customer by the time Ana made a little heart in the air around your heads. It seemed that she had gotten the same crazy idea that John had that he had fallen for you. If only they knew he was a god, then certainly they wouldn’t have reached such an outlandish conclusion. At least, he supposed, they did not know the true reason he wanted to avoid putting his picture out there, for if they did, he was sure they’d never look at him the same way again. Why that should even matter to him was one question he had yet to answer.

“Well, perhaps when Papa finds that camera,” Loki lied.

“Mhm. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Are you leaving?” Matt asked, tugging on Loki’s pants. “I don’t want you to.”

“I know, small one. Do not worry, I am staying put for now,” Loki said as he bent down to the boy’s height.

“Yay! More play time!”

“Indeed,” Loki laughed.

In the past few days, Papa had declared him an official farmhand and offered him a salary for his help. The trickster god declined at first, insisting that the lodgings and hospitality he’d been given were far more than enough. But, in the battle of the wills, Papa came out victorious, and Loki accepted a modest salary. His position, however, was little more than a glorified babysitter, not that he particularly minded. Everyone still seemed too nervous he was going to fall over and die at any given minute to assign him many real tasks. He still collected the eggs daily, and was being taught to milk the cows, along with a few other simple tasks. In addition, he was taking some cooking lessons with Papa. His attempt at pancakes did not go too well, but you reassured him it was a great first try, something that made him beam with pride.

One thing he wasn’t particularly fond of, however, was getting up so early. Though you’d all told him it was fine if he wanted to sleep in while he was still recovering, he felt bad to take you up on the offer. He was, after all, fully healed whether you knew it or not. And if he was accepting pay, he should have to be up as early as anyone else. Still, a part of him longed for his beauty sleep.

“Well, fancy running into you here,” a deep, unfamiliar voice said.

“Denzel?” you asked in a mix of shock and surprise. “Is that you?”

“Sure is, darlin’. Long time no see.”

“Uh, yeah. When did you get back?”

“Just last night. I was hoping to see you here. And it seems I’ve forgotten my manners. Who’s this?” he asked, nodding his head at the God of Mischief.

“Loki,” he replied, reluctantly extending his hand for a shake. “Charmed, I am sure.”

“Yeah, right. Nice to meet you, too. I’m Denzel. You new around here?” he questioned, sizing up Loki.

The raven haired god wasn’t exactly sure what it was about this man, but he rubbed him the wrong way. There was nothing particularly malicious about him, but the look in his eye sparked something in Loki’s chest. In a sudden panicked thought, he wondered if this Denzel person had recognized him. If so, he’d have to make a quick getaway, teleportation the only option. He wondered for a split second if he could grab your hand and take you with him, but he knew that wouldn’t be fair to you. Then again, nothing about this particularly was.

“Yes. You see, I have tragically lost my memory, but I was lucky enough to be taken in by this kind family,” Loki said.

“Interesting. But you remember your name?”

“Oh yes, I remember simple, everyday things, such as my name or, say, how to use a seatbelt. Something so simple surely would stay in everyone’s mind,” he joked, shooting a look at you as a huge smile made its way onto your face. You hid your laugh at the inside joke behind a hand. “Very odd how that works, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Like I said, interesting. Anyway,” he changed the subject, turning to you, “I was hoping to talk. Do you think we could maybe take a quick walk?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Can you guys hold the fort down?”

“Of course, honey,” Ana said, giving your arm a quick squeeze. “Take your time.”

You were off before Loki had any time to protest, but he kept up a cool facade as the next customer walked up to the booth. Once he finished, he put his elbow on the table and, slumping down in defeat, rested his head in his hand.

“Who was that Denzel character, anyway?” he asked your sister as his nose involuntarily wrinkled in distaste.

“Listen, don’t tell them I told you this, but he’s their ex.”

“Well, what happened? Did he hurt them?” he further inquired, perking up at the new information.

“Distance, I guess. He was a great guy, really, but it just didn’t work out. He just finished studying to be a doctor, actually. So he might be back in town for good. But,” she added, noticing the disappointment etched onto Loki’s features, “that doesn’t mean they’re getting back together or anything. It’s been a while. I really do think they moved on.”

“Do you not have that saying here, though? Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Or something else equally ridiculous as that.”

“Well, yes, that is a saying. But not from here, as in Oklahoma here. It’s kinda well known.”

“I am aware. I just meant... Oh never mind!” he quit in exasperation, a mood Ana chalked up to Denzel’s sudden arrival.

Loki tried to use his height to his advantage and spot you in the crowd, but no such luck. You were too far gone, away with Denzel, your ex. Someone who, Loki had to admit, was very pretty and smart and charming. But certainly he—Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief and Lies, rightful heir to not one, but two thrones—was prettier than this mere mortal. And smarter than this insipid fool. And far more charming than this bumbling oaf. Right? Or was he truly just the cold, chaotic, horrific, monstrous villain so many thought he was? Though, really, why should any of it matter to him?

In that moment, the answer finally hit him. He could never acknowledge it, though. It would only lead to pain and heartache for all involved. Not to mention terrible danger for you. But, if he were to allow himself just one peaceful second of bliss, he could imagine he was not a god, not a fugitive, but just a simple man. Just someone who could be able to love you and provide for you without any complications from his past misdeeds. If he could allow that, then he would admit he had feelings for you. But he can’t so he won’t. He’d let his inner demons have their way and only ever admire you from afar, accepting your friendship for what it was and nothing more. Though, if you were to make the first move, then perhaps things would be different. That, however, was an entirely unlikely course of events.

“Loki? Are you oki doki?” Matt asked, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. “Maybe you need a cookie.”

“I am fine, little one,” he said, laughing despite himself. “Thank you very much for asking.”

“Are you sure you don’t want a cookie?”

“Well, I suppose it could not hurt. What do you say? Would you like one?”

“Yes, please!”

You and Denzel reappeared just then, and Loki was suddenly very desperate to escape. He took Matt’s hand in his and informed Ana where he was off to with the child. She gave Loki a grateful smile for indulging her son and sent them on their way with a few dollars to purchase the sweets.

On the way to the booth with the most heavenly smell, Loki’s thoughts overtook him once again. He recalled his plan from when he’d first arrived; lie low and heal and then be off to Asgard. Off to claim the throne which technically should have been his. Really, it was not entirely his fault that his brother had been banished when the king fell into Odinsleep. And it wasn’t like he caused that either. No, his “father” confessed he’d been lying to him to all his life and then left him to deal with it by himself. And he was next in line for the throne at the time, but apparently he shouldn’t have taken it. Obviously, it was all perfect logic from the brain of Odin once again. And, yes, he would admit he made some mistakes. That was the sign of a true leader. But he was doing the best he could with the hand he’d been dealt. And perhaps the most frustrating part was he was starting to realize he liked this simple town better than any of that. That he didn’t actually want to leave, after all.

One short wait in line later, Loki pulled himself from the dangerous rabbit hole that was his mind. He ordered two cookies, pumpkin chocolate chip for Matt and a butter pecan one for himself. Then, on a whim, he also ordered a cup of hot apple cider for both you and Ana. Nothing for Denzel, though. If the Norns were smiling on him today, that man would already be gone by the time he got back. Gone as in away from the stand or out of the state didn’t really matter to Loki. Either worked for him.  

“Surprise,” he whispered in your ear after sneaking up behind you. “Hot apple cider, on me.”

You graciously took the cup and passed one to Ana, too. Loki also offered you a piece of his cookie, which you gladly accepted. The brush of your fingers as he gave it to you had him shyly looking away. Ana took Matt off to the bathroom once he was done eating, leaving Loki alone with you for the first time that day.

“So, Denzel,” he nonchalantly started after you finished a transaction. “He seemed... Nice.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. He is.” You picked at a loose thread on your jacket as you figured out what else to say about him. “Ana told me that she let you know our history. He said he’s back now and strongly hinted at us getting back together, but I don’t know.”

“I see. Well, from what I hear, he’s an amazing guy, so you should go for it,” Loki dejectedly said, though he truly did want you to be happy. “If that is what you want, of course.”

“It’s not, though. At least, I don’t think it is. Don’t get me wrong, he is really great. But the spark’s just gone for me, you know?”

“I understand completely,” Loki replied, hope creeping into his heart. Even if you were not yet smitten with him, at least you were not still pining for your ex. “You are certainly under no obligation to be with him again.”

“Yeah, I know. I just feel bad.”

“Darling, look at me,” he said, taking your hand. “You should never feel bad about what, or rather who, you want or do not want. It is entirely up to you, no matter what anyone else says.”

The irony was not lost on Loki that he should be saying those words. Though, he had found it was a common theme among Midgardians to be good at giving advice but never apply it to yourself. So, if anything, he was just doing an impeccable job of blending in.

“Thanks, Loki. I needed that. Anyway, on a much lighter note, Matt really seems to love you. You’re great with kids.”

“Do you really think so?”

“Absolutely.”

He felt his cheeks go scarlet again, entirely too happy that you thought he was good with kids. For a brief moment, the idea of raising a child with you popped into his mind, but he shut it down before he tortured himself too much with something that could never be.

“Well, I thank you for the compliment, but if you do not mind, I need some fresh air for a second. Or space, I suppose,” he corrected, considering you were outside. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

“Ok. Talk to me if something’s bothering you?”

“Of course.”

He knew that was a lie, and he was sure that deep down you did, too. It was, in the grand scheme of things, a little white lie. It’s just that it felt like so much more than that. In some ways, he supposed it was.

As he walked out to the edge of the market, he thought he heard some thunder ominously booming in the distance. Or maybe that was just his imagination.

[edie-k]

The Art of Christmas Tree Selection

Title: The Art of Christmas Tree Selection

Rating: PG/PG-13 (just language)

Disclaimer: Not mine

Summary: On holiday at Hermione's house, Ron is faced with one the scariest prospects of his young life: a talk with Mr. Granger.

In the way back times, less than a year after the publication of Order of the Phoenix, I wrote my first Romione fic. This was it. In the spirt of Christmas, I thought I would share it. It is, AU after OOTP. Originally published on Checkmated, as I am 16 years older, I now made Ron’s conversation with Mr. Granger slightly less melodramatic to find a better balance. Enjoy!  

“Now wait Hermione, explain this again. How exactly do those people get into that box?” asked Ron, cocking his head at the television set in the corner.

“Honestly Ron, I’m not explaining it again!” Hermione huffed, placing her hands on her hips. The long strands of garland she had previously been winding around the banister of the staircase trailed from her fists to the floor.

“Aw, come on love. You enjoy being a know it all,” Ron replied, crossing the room and wrapping his arms around her waist from behind and pulled her back against him.

“Ron!” squealed Hermione, pulling away slightly and turning in his arms to place her hands on the back of his neck. It was all Ron could do to restrain himself from letting out a sigh of contentment. Luckily, his ego kept him from sounding too effeminate.

It was his last Christmas break before leaving Hogwarts and it was the first holiday that he would spend without Harry or his family. Hermione had wanted to spend Christmas with her mum and dad and she had managed to get Ron to agree to accompany her home.

If he was completely honest, Hermione had some rather brilliant ways of convincing him.

Hermione and he had finally managed to get their act together a couple of months into sixth year. All of their pent up emotions and tension spilled out in the middle of a row. “I always knew it would come out like that,” Ginny bragged. In all honesty, Ron couldn’t remember what the argument had been about but he never mentioned that because Hermione most likely did.

In the year and some months they had been together, life had proved to be rather trying. Then again, life as Harry Potter’s best friend was never easy. Having Hermione by his side through it all was the biggest blessing he could have received. Of course, Hermione had always been there with him but without the underlying tension, he found that much more comfort in her presence.

Harry was really supposed to be there with them. After Hermione had talked (well, not necessarily talked) Ron into going to her home for the holiday, she had immediately invited Harry, who much to their surprise, declined. He informed them that he had already accepted his mum’s invitation to join the Weasleys and told Ron and Hermione that he would see them when they arrived at the Burrow on Boxing Day to spend the rest of their holiday. “Besides,” said Harry after Hermione had retired to her room for the night. “Don’t you two want to spend some time alone?”

Yes. Yes he did. Another disadvantage of being Harry Potter’s best friend (besides the target on your back) was that Harry required an abundance of support and attention to keep him from slipping into a mood of eternal melancholy. Ron looked forward to any time that he could spend alone with Hermione. Of course, their alone time was not going to happen at her parents’ house.

Hermione’s parents. Oh Merlin, they made him nervous. There were times when Ron could barely convince himself that he deserved Hermione, how could he convince her parents?

Ron had seen snippets from letters that Hermione had received from home and he could tell that they thought she could do no wrong. He figured this had to do with the fact she was an only child. His own parents had never harbored such beliefs. They were overjoyed if their children could make it through the day without hurting themselves or one another.

Hermione’s parents were dentists. This was some sort of Muggle tooth doctor and according to Harry, dentists typically made a good deal of money. If their house was any indication, it was rather obvious. Harry also told him that to become a dentist, you had to go to university for a number of years. Therefore, the Grangers were just as brilliant as their genius daughter.

For the three days since their arrival at the Granger household, Ron stuck as close as possible to Hermione. This strategy had seemed to work for him so far. The first two days, the Grangers had worked during the day (which also equated to some proper alone time) and he only faced their scrutiny at dinner. With Hermione there to properly steer the conversation, Ron was able to participate and sound at least half way intelligent.

This morning, however, was the first day of the Grangers’ holiday from their office, and consequently, Mrs. Granger had scheduled a doctor’s appointment for Hermione. Hermione had protested fervently. “Honestly, I don’t need to see a cardiologist. Just because I had a slight murmur as a baby doesn’t mean there is a thing wrong with me now. Believe me, if it was anything life threatening I’m sure that I would already have had cardiovascular failure,” Hermione had vented to Ron. He had merely nodded and inquired as to the time of her appointment. The appointment was scheduled for 9:15 in the morning and Ron had managed to stay in bed until 11:00 when he heard the front door open. His mum would have him degnoming the garden for the rest of his life if she found out he behaved that way while a guest in someone’s home.

It was now the afternoon and they had finished lunch and begun to decorate the house for Christmas. Hermione had been wrapping the garland around the banister of the stairs of the entrance hall where Ron had been hanging garland to line the windows of the front door. The house was beginning to take on the aromas of Christmastime, which reminded him of his own mum’s baking.

“Ron? Ron?” said an amused voice. He shook his head, clearing it and looked down at a grinning Hermione. “Did you hear what I said?”

“Oh, uh, sorry. I got a bit lost in my own thoughts there.”

“I asked if you wanted to take two steps to the right,” she repeated. Ron glanced upward in the direction that she had indicated and grinned. With his arms still around her, he took two exaggerated steps until they were directly underneath a small sprig of mistletoe dangling from the ceiling. He raised his eyebrows twice and drew a giggle from Hermione, something only he could do. He leaned in for a sweet kiss.

“Hermione?” called a voice. Ron dropped his arms away from Hermione and quickly pushed her away.

“Yes Dad?” asked Hermione, rolling her eyes at Ron. Hermione had told him that she was positive her parents would not be offended if they were affectionate with each other in front of them but Ron could barely bring himself to hold her hand in the presence of her mum and dad.

“Mum was hoping that you would help her in the kitchen with the fudge. She seems to think that if you prepare it, Aunt Patricia won’t be so inclined to criticize it tomorrow.” Mr. Granger gave her a wink and she smiled.

“Sure, Dad,” she replied.

Ron was now completely unsure as to what he should do while Hermione assisted her mum. Before he had much chance to panic, Mr. Granger opened his mouth, uttering one of the scariest things Ron ever heard in his life.

“I was just about to leave to get our Christmas tree. I could use some help. Why don’t you join me, Ron?”

“Uh-um, yeah,” Ron stuttered out. “I mean, yes sir. I would be glad to help.”

“Wonderful! I’ll just round up my winter things,” Mr. Granger said, heading toward the back of the house and leaving Hermione and Ron alone in the front hall once again.

Ron turned to Hermione, his eyes wide open and filled with panic. Hermione rolled her eyes. “Ron, it’s just my dad. You have faced things much more terrifying than my father.”

“Well, what if I slip and say something that makes him hate me?” Ron asked, his voice filled with fear.

“As long as you two don’t discuss snogging habits, I think that you will do fine,” Hermione said with a smirk.

“Hermione!” Ron said, aghast. How could she even joke about this?

“Well, honestly Ron. What could you possibly do? Dad is already quite aware of the wizarding world. My parents know the basics of the war with Voldemort, so no surprises there. I’m sure you’ll be fine.” With that, she stood on her toes and gave him a kiss on the cheek before entering the kitchen to help her mother and leaving him absolutely alone in his own misery.

“Blimey,” Ron muttered to the empty room. “I’m screwed.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This whole excruciating mess had to be almost over. It seemed like hours since they had left the safety of Hermione acting as a buffer. Ron glanced out the car window and over his shoulder. Shit. He could still see the driveway. They had barely started.  

“Well Ron,” said Mr. Granger. “Judy and I are glad that you could join us for Christmas. I’m sure Hermione filled you in on our family.” Ron nodded. Both sets of Hermione’s grandparents knew that she was a witch but none of her aunts, uncles, or cousins were privy to that information. They thought she attended Huntington Preparatory School. So that meant that he would not only have to pretend to be a Muggle but a smart one as well. At least with Hermione’s parents he could respond with his real life.

“I plan on letting Hermione run the conversation,” Ron said nervously.

Mr. Granger smiled sympathetically. “Don’t worry Ron. We won’t let you die out there. I hope you won’t be too overwhelmed by all of the family tomorrow. They are a good group but they can get a bit rowdy as a party wears on.”

“If anyone understands a rowdy family, it’s me, sir,” Ron answered. Of course, when he was with his own family, he didn’t need to lie about his entire life and impress them enough so that they thought he was good enough for Hermione.

Mr. Granger chuckled. “I would imagine that you are well-versed in that. I’ve heard plenty of stories about the trouble that your twin brothers cause… What are their names again?”

“Fred and George,” supplied Ron. Ron had a feeling that Mr. Granger had not heard some of the more recent stories from Hermione’s visit this summer since most of those involved Ron and Hermione having tricks played on them while being caught in rather compromising situations.

“I know that Hermione has always enjoyed the time that she spends with your family. I imagine it’s nice for her to experience a big family first-hand. Judy and I are glad that she’s seeing a young man that comes from such a strong family background. I’m not sure how things are in the wizarding world but there has been a breakdown of families here in recent years and it’s nice to see that Hermione found someone who was raised with strong family values.”  

“My mum and dad tried their best,” Ron responded. He began to relax a bit. This wasn’t so bad. Mr. Granger was actually being quite flattering. And he had managed to answer mostly in complete sentences.

“Judy and I do like you, Ron,” Mr. Granger continued. “But Hermione is our only child. As her father, it’s my obligation to ask you what your exact feelings toward her are.”

How much would it hurt to jump from a moving car? They were traveling on side streets so they couldn’t be going that fast. As long as he tucked his head…

“Ron?” prompted Mr. Granger again.

“I’m sorry sir,” squeaked Ron in a voice that had not made an appearance since early puberty. He cleared his throat. “Could you repeat that?”

“I’m sorry to take you by surprise. Take a moment to collect your thoughts,” Mr. Granger said.

What Ron really wanted to do was slap himself in the forehead. Why had he left his wand back at the house? Not only was it stupid with all the danger they faced but if he had it, he could Apparate the hell out of there. No. No, he had to stay. And not just because he did not have his wand. He had to stay because he loved Hermione. All he had to do was explain to her father why.

“Uh, well sir, I love your daughter very much. She’s been my friend forever. And I reckon that even with a family as large as mine, she’s the one person in the world that I never have to doubt. She always believes in me and supports me. And even when we argue, I never have to wonder if she really loves me or not because I already know the answer. And I want to be that person for her as well. She means everything to me,” Ron said. Wow, that was pretty articulate!

Hermione was really rubbing off on him because now he was thinking words like articulate. And earlier this afternoon, he was pretty sure he had thought the word melancholy. What was happening to him?

Mr. Granger cleared his throat. “That’s very good to hear Ron. A little hard for a father to hear but it’s a very nice thought.”

“I uh- I mean every word of it,” Ron said, trying to sound confident. He was confident in how he felt about Hermione but less certain about expressing it to her father.

“I’m sure that you do. So now I have to know-what are your intentions toward my daughter?”

According to Bill, Charlie, and Fred, who all had fiancées or steady girlfriends, those were the scariest seven words in the English language. He had laughed at the time. What could be so horrible about saying that his plan was to marry Hermione (when they were much older, of course)? Now that he was actually expected to say it to her father he felt closer to his older brothers than ever before. He prayed that he could channel one of them as he answered the question. Preferably not Fred.

“Um, well, uh, sir, I guess my plan is that when we are older-uh, much older- I would like to spend- that is I want to.” Gryffindor, Gryffindor! “I’m planning to be with her for as long as she’ll have me.”

Mr. Granger turned to regard him as Ron stared determinedly out the windshield. “Do you know what Hermione’s plans are for the future?”

Ron was a little surprised by this. He had expected the next question to be about his own future and career. “I don’t think she has quite made up her mind as to what occupation she wants to pursue. I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’m sure she’ll succeed no matter what she does. I just hope that she plans to take me along for the ride.”

The answer seemed to satisfy Mr. Granger. “We know our daughter is intelligent Ron.”

“I wouldn’t have made it this far without her,” Ron said. He immediately reddened at his sudden interruption. “Um, sorry sir.”

“That’s okay. I’m glad to see you think so highly of her. We want her to reach her full potential and we want to see her with someone who will be supportive of that.”

“Yes, of course sir. I sincerely doubt that I could stop her even if I really wanted to.”

Mr. Granger laughed. “She said you had a sense of humor. Although we haven’t seen much of it this holiday.”  

“Well, I reckon I have been a bit nervous,” Ron admitted. He remembered Charlie had said that his girlfriend’s father had liked it when he had shown fear.

“I remember the first time I was alone with Judy’s father,” Mr. Granger said. “I was helping him fix a few shingles on his roof and when he asked me how I felt about Judy, I contemplated jumping off the roof.”

Ron laughed uncomfortably. Was he a mind reader?

Mr. Granger cleared his throat and a rather serious look crossed his face. “This might sound a bit hypocritical after I made such a point of Hermione’s independence but as her father….” Mr. Granger stopped and he looked as uncomfortable as Ron did for a moment.

The car was on a busier road and now traveling at a faster speed but if Mr. Granger asked Ron a question about their physical relationship… gravity be damned, he was jumping.

Ron debated on whether he should prompt Mr. Granger to continue because he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to hear it, when Mr. Granger continued his previous thought.

“I know there is danger in your world. I don’t know the extent of it but I think that it is worse than Hermione leads us to believe.” Mr. Granger glanced at Ron who continued to sit in silence. He did not want to incriminate Hermione because he knew that she had not told her parents the whole truth but his silence seemed to affirm Mr. Granger’s opinion.

“And I know that Hermione is in more danger than most.” Harry Potter’s Muggle-born best friend? She was probably third on Voldemort’s hit list, behind Harry and Dumbledore.

“So I just want to make sure that, well, that...” Mr. Granger was struggling for the words but Ron could see where he was going. And Ron knew exactly how to answer this question.

“Mr. Granger, I promise you that I will protect your daughter. I will keep her safe until the day I die. I would do anything to keep her safe. Anything.” Wow, that was good. He sounded pretty manly.

“Thank you Ron. That’s what I wanted to hear,” Mr. Granger said.

Ron felt the need to fill the silence so he followed up with “I mean it, sir.” He mentally slapped himself. Way to contribute a worthwhile comment, Weasley.  

Mr. Granger looked at him and smiled. For the first time the whole ride, Ron turned to meet his eyes and smiled back.  

The car coasted into a lot filled with pine trees already cut and prepared to be sold. Mr. Granger put the car into park and Ron opened his door and slid out.  

“One more thing Ron,” said Mr. Granger as they walked toward the tree lot.

“Yes?” Ron asked, meeting his eyes again. Hermione was right. Her dad wasn’t so bad.

“When you’re with my daughter, keep your hands where I can see them.”

[catchlalune]

Original artwork here

a/n: Hello starbursts! Happy Juneteenth and I hope everyone is staying safe and still quarantining! This fic is very different from my usual works so I need to preface this in my authors note that all of the characters in the story are pretty awful. If you find yourself in any of these situations PLEASE seek help. I wrote this to highlight these issues and you should think of it much like a modern day Romeo and Juliette story (and what I mean by that is that everyone in that story was incredibly dense and really could’ve solved a lot of their issues by talking and working through things together.) Thank you to @skzctnightnight​ and @pockpop​ for actually helping me maintain my motivation for finishing writing in an actual day. (also tagging @jejublr​ )

Word Count: 3.6k 

Pairings: Lucas x Reader

Genre: Angst, CEO! Au, Arranged Marriage 

Warnings: unhealthy relationships, smut, abusive relationship (this is not between the reader and Lucas), this again is to highlight how awful people can be this is an extremely toxic scenario so please don’t read if you will be triggered. Also not proofread yet but I plan on fixing it later

This is not in any way, shape, or form meant to say that I believe Lucas is like this in the slightest. I am using his likeness to portray a completely fictional character and that is all. 

The entirety of the two years she has spent with Lucas culminates to the two of them in this moment. The sinful sounds the two of them make as skin slaps on skin. The feel of him inside her. Everything is hot and wet and passionate. As passionate as the kisses they’ve always shared. As hot as the sun on their skin as they sit and laugh in the sun, Lucas’ parents included. As wet as the rain as it pours outside, slapping on the pavement in hard droplets. 

They say that if it rains on your wedding day it means the relationship is meant to last forever. But what does it mean when it happens on a day of goodbyes? Are you fated to never say hello again? 

Whatever it means does not matter much to the two of them. Lucas is too busy coaxing his cock in and out of her to think of much other than their combined pleasure. They draw this out for as long as they possibly can. They know what will happen when they finish. But still Lucas must bring her to the apex of her pleasure, circling her throbbing bud as he stoaks the fire inside her belly. Her toes tingle, eyes shut tight and breathing ragged. Her fingers pinch and rub at her nipples until she's shaking. 

She comes undone with a sweet groan, gripping him until he releases into the condom. 

They lay there in the darkness of the night, the only illumination being the red of the alarm clock on Lucas’ bedside table. Glaringly it tells them the time but they ignore it as it looks in on them. It judges silently as the time reaches hours close enough for the sun to claw its way above civilization. They grasp for each other in the post-coituous haze. It does not matter, no matter how tightly they cling.

“I want to stay like this forever.” His whispers sound like music to her ears, the song of a siren. 

She does not answer him, anything she wants to say is caught in her throat. The memories that flood her mind hurt her before his words even can. Distinctly she remembers his mother telling her about the arranged marriage proposal from before he was even a child. Lucas doesn’t even know, she hadn’t even known up until two weeks ago. Their two year relationship had suddenly been reduced to nothing by those words. And his mother had been so casual about it, telling her as they searched for Lucas’ birthday present as if it was nothing more than an afterthought. ‘And  by the way, you will never be able to have my son. Not completely.’ 

She doesn’t realize the sobs that wrack her until Lucas pulls her close. He coos at her about how she always gets so emotional after sex. He jokes, tries to lighten the mood but nothing will quiet her mind. Not really. She knows that their graduation tomorrow means the end of this, of them. She knows she should at least tell him why, but she can’t bring herself to say the words. 

Instead she lets him hum the both of them to sleep, Lucas feeling bad about not being able to cure her of whatever ails her. She speaks to him after a brief period of rest, words hardly above the sound of the rustling of sheets. 

“Maybe we could’ve been, in another world.”

By the time he wakes the sun is just rising over the horizon, alarm clock blaring, and the bed cold. He doesn’t have to wait long to find out she is no longer with him. Some part of him feels the dread, knows something must’ve been wrong but he tries to brush it off. He does a good job of it too until he realizes he can’t reach her. Her number automatically disconnects, her things are no longer at her dorm room, and he doesn’t even catch a glimpse of her at graduation. When it is time for her to walk the stage there is a pregnant pause and the name of the graduate. He can’t imagine what must have happened to make her miss her own college graduation but he can’t even find the time to worry. Not when his parents are there and tell him the truth. 

---

“If I have to listen to another man tell me about how to run my own business I just might shoot myself in the foot.” 

Already the span of time has reached six long years. Leaving him was a decision she did not pride herself on. Some nights ended with dreams, ghosts of memories too long passed. Echoes of a time she felt safe, felt confident. Now she stands in the lobby of a convention center trying to figure out which panel would aggravate her the least. Two more long days she would have to deal with the misogyny, usually her patience wouldn’t be so thin but she hasn’t been able to sleep very well recently. She wakes up with the feel and taste of him on her. She feels dirty.

“I agree, we can do it together.” The woman-- who she hadn’t noticed-- smiles at her so brightly it makes her a bit uncomfortable. She was very pretty, the image of most men’s dreams probably. Perfectly manicured nails, long pin-straight hair, skin a milky complexion, lips a shade of pink that was not too bold and not too flirty. The woman also wears a dress she vaguely remembers seeing in a high fashion magazine not too long ago whilst waiting at the doctor's office-- in another word: expensive. She feels a bit embarrassed to have said that so loud where others could obviously hear her. It was obvious she was being watched, she was a woman in a man's world she was always being watched. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t worry about it. Your secret is safe with me!” The woman takes a moment to wink at her, she shifts on her feet still feeling a bit awkward. “My name’s Jaeun, you’re the CEO of Xuxi’s Publishing Group, correct? I’ve been trying to find you all day.” 

Jaeun launches into a story about how she’d stumbled upon her company and relaxes her enough for the two of them to have a conversation about things other than business. It had been such a long time since she had a friend and talking to Jaeun was extremely easy. Maybe it was the way she seemed so bright and bubbly, or even the way she navigated conversations with a natural grace. Whatever it was, Jaeun quickly became a staple in her life for the next two days. 

And then it all comes crashing down on her, just like the rain on that night it rains the last day of the convention. It comes down so hard it resonates within the convention center. But that’s not what she’s focused on. Jaeun had offered for her to meet her husband and his parents excitedly yesterday after talking to her about the lack of business prospects. It was supposed to be relaxed and informal but she was on absolute high alert. 

The years were kind to him in a way that she considered unfair. He was even more beautiful than the night she left him. 

“There you are! This is my husband Lucas. I showed him your business proposal and he wants to have a meeting for a merger.” 

--

It’s no more than a few days after the convention that he shows up on her doorstep in business casual attire that puts hers to shame. She’s not even sure if it was actually smart for them to be left alone together but she swallows the lump in her throat and lets in him. She offers him a plate of food that she made for their lunch but he declines. He does the same to her offer for water and coffee as well. He’s been there all of five minutes and already her palms are sweating. She almost feels silly as he tells her that she can eat, always feeling like the one taking instead of giving. 

"Do you really like her as a friend?" A strange conversation for him to start, but he needed to vet her nonetheless. 

"Yes." There is no doubt in her words, they are hard and come out leaving no room for doubt.

"Do you love and cherish her?"

"Of course I do, it's been so long since finding a friend like her." She fiddles with her fork wondering why this was being asked to her and not the other way around. 

"You know I think she loves you too. I don't know about cherish, that's a good change word. It's just that her mom is so skeptical of everyone, it's better that she doesn't get too close." 

"I know, but it doesn't change my answer. "

There's a brief pause between them before he speaks again, a small smile on his face. 

"I almost wish I was in an arranged marriage with you. I think it would be easy to fall in love. Should I just end it with her? You know I could." He says it with such conviction it makes her heart flutter. 

"Don't say things like that. Jaeun really likes you, she really wants to make it work." It almost sickened her how easy it was for him to just say those words to her. Maybe it was easy for him, but what about her friend? She was groomed her whole life for him. The way he would easily throw her away for another makes her resolve to forget the butterflies in her stomach that much stronger. 

"Let's get down to business now shall we? You came here to talk about a merger." She looks at him with her eyes and jaw set and he knows. He knows he is going to fall into her head first and drown. He knows that she is so loyal to her morals and her friendship that she would willingly let any sparks for him fizzle out and die. He knows it, and yet the beating of his heart only gets faster. 

"Let's."

She is exactly how he remembers her. And the way he remembers her is very intimate. If he closes his eyes he can faintly feel the way her body would meld perfectly against him. Lips laying kisses across the expanse of his visage. The smell of her, fresh and sweet; the smell of citrus and a hint of honey with jasmine blooms. He can still feel the way their hearts beat at each others ribcage, trying to find a way out and meld together. But they never did, and they never will. 

It has already been two weeks since their meeting and business between them is going off without a hitch. But of course that's all that is going on between them, business. She is just as intelligent and bright as she always has been and it seems if only she had been dealt a luckier hand in life her business would've surpassed his years ago. He shouldn't be but she makes it so easy to remember their summer tryst. She makes it so easy to remember how he cares for her. 

Even at the company dinner she makes it easy, she glides through the room as if on air. Her pantsuit hugs her body in all the right places. He takes note of how it makes her stand out, of the power she exudes just by making a not so orthodox outfit choice. Of course some of the men would think she was a hardass because of it, but when she saunters away with a pretty brunette and stay in the bathroom longer than socially acceptable they begin to think other things. Of course even if these things are true it's none of their business and he tells them just that. Reminding them of the company rules against harassment and intimidation. 

This doesn't stop him from waiting for her though. After another ten minutes the brunette slipping out from the bathroom a satiated look on her face Lucas is waiting. He keeps his eyes trained on the bathroom door but when he feels it's been too long he doesn't wait anymore. It is a company wide policy that most bathrooms be gender neutral and luckily this was one such one. He makes his way quietly into the single toilet, he tells himself it's just to make sure that she's okay. But when he sees the way she looks he can't help but ask her. 

"Did you have fun?" It's an innocent enough question but the implications of it are anything but innocent. 

"Are you mad?" She doesn't even startle at his presence, as if she knew he would be looking for her. It takes him a second to really be able to answer her. He thinks about it long and hard.

"I can't be mad, because I was the one that let you slip away from me." He regards her with a soft wisftfulness that makes both their hearts ache. It hurts to look at her lipstick smudged and hair disheveled when he wasn't the one who's done it. He wonders if the woman she's just hooked up with knows. 

"If I had held you longer, maybe you wouldn't have slipped out of the bed that night. We could've woken up to each other we could've-" 

"You know that's not true. Don't even pretend for a second your parents would've given up your arranged marriage." 

"We don't know that, we could've been more persistent! We could've begged." His eyes are alight, wild with all of the things he might have done to stay with her had he known it would hurt him this much. 

"No, it wouldn't have changed anything. Just like every other rich person the only thing you and your whole family value is money and power. It doesn't matter how much they liked me." The words come out of her mouth as sharp as razor blades and they cut. They cut so deep and so hot it almost makes him dizzy. He knows she doesn't mean it, she's just upset because he'd almost caused her friendship to fall through. He deserves it but just because it was true about his parents doesn't mean it was for him. 

"You don't understand how much I love you." He steps forward, tears threatening to pour down his beautiful face. She will regret her next words for the rest of her life. But she must say them even if they aren't true, even if they hinder her from happiness. 

"I understand, but it's that my understanding does not matter. Jaeun loves you." Her words echo through different times and spaces it seems. They beat at the two of them brutally. They make it hard to breathe. 

"Do you love me?" He steps closer, words falling from his lips like water from a faucet. They begin to flood the room with their intensity, the water is at their shins. She steps back. 

"Jaeun loves you." A shake of her head and the room is flooded higher, the water at their hips now. He takes another step forward. 

"Do you love me?" The words are at their chests now and she shakes her head again, tears mirroring the ones steaming down his face. 

"Jaeun loves you." He stops when she is almost against the wall but doesn't proceed forward. 

"Do you love Jaeun?" 

"I do, with all that is in me. She's been my only friend through all of this. I can't betray her." The words are at their throats now, they choke her so that her speech is airy and labored. They press at her chest. He knew that he would drown in her, he just didn't realize he would never be saved. 

"But loving me, you already have." He steps away and she can already breathe better when her senses aren't so full of him. 

"I never said-" 

"You didn't have to." The smile he gives her is preposterously solemn for such a wide showcase of his teeth. 

"Jaeun loves you." She whispers back to him, head bowed and eyes looking at the shiny leather of his shoes. 

"I know, but I love you. " He turns away from her and begins his exit and subsequently his descent into madness. Every step he takes from her causes her to fall just a bit closer to the floor, by the time he is gone she is already on her knees gasping for air. 

Jaeun waits for him outside the room with an eerily stoic face. He knows she has heard everything but he doesn't care, he hopes she wants a divorce but to his surprise she offers him her usual smile. Normally he'd think it was full of charm but her words...her very words tell him she was simply a snake all along. 

"Let's go home, I'll help you forget about her." 

They were so caught up in the turmoil of their relationship they hadn't even seen the signs. The seeds that Jaeun had sowed. And now, they played right into her hand. But for her sake, he'd do everything to make sure she wouldn't find out.

"I don't need or want whatever it is you're offering me. What I want is for you to get the fuck away from me." His words come out scathing, he puts every bit of malice he can into each and every letter. But it just makes Jaeun laugh, she then fixes him with a look so sinister it almost makes him shiver. 

"Don't be silly. The second the two of you got together there was already a due date on your relationship. You were never meant to be forever, there was a deadline and it ended exactly when I decided it to. Really it's your fault for ever getting involved with her in the first place." She ends it with a sneer marring her pretty features and so loud he hushes her fearing that his lover might hear. 

"Is it really my fault?" The thought seems ludicrous to him but all Jaeun needs is that inch of doubt in his voice to take it a full mile. 

"Of course it is baby, you're just as awful as I am. But it's okay, I forgive you." He lets her pull him away after that, head so clouded with her words he can barely manage to walk correctly. It was true, he knew he was getting an arranged marriage and his parents knew but still he…

He would make sure that she'd be happy anyway he could even if it meant being in a relationship with Jaeun. 

The years spread between them like a desert, sands of time speeding up and slowing down in frequent intervals that they can't change though sometimes they wish they could. Lucas' marriage to Jaeun is nothing more than a facade and his deserves an Oscar for his performance every time she comes around. Sometimes he wonders why Jaeun keeps her if she doesn't really see her as a friend but then remembers that Jaeun is cruel and enjoys watching the two of them pine. Whenever he kisses Jaeun he feels her lips ghosting across his own. Whenever he touches Jaeun he feels her skin soft and supple. Whenever he fucks Jaeun he really wishes he could make love to her. And whenever he sees their daughter though he loves her to death, he wishes her mother was another woman. He especially wishes it when she comes around to babysit. 

Jaeun takes her cruelty to a whole new degree when she begins to ask her "friend" to babysit for her. 'She's just so tired and Lucas is always so busy.' And it isn't entirely a lie, but Lucas had long since been working from home just to be able to catch a glimpse of her in passing. He didn't think his heart could ache more but it does the moment he hears it. He watches from around the corner to the kitchen, peering in and spying like a shadow.

"Mommy can we have chicken for lunch?" His daughter had just begun to learn how to enunciate her words better. Four years old and Jaeun had hardly stepped in to care for the child, she wasn't a mother any more than she was a wife this much was evident from their daughters words. 

"I'm not your mommy darling, you can call me auntie though." She bends down to pat Jisoo on the head. Eyes tender with a longing she could not put into words. 

"But you act like a mommy, can't you be my mommy? Can we please have chicken?" The four year old pouts up at her, Lucas nearly swoons. Everyone knows that it's true, even the maid and butler agreed she was a much better fit for Jaeun at motherhood. But secrets should never be uttered aloud. 

"We can have chicken Jisoo, but you can't keep calling me that. At least not in front of everyone." Jisoo lights up at the prospect of some kind of compromise. 

"Does that mean I can still call you mommy?" She hushes the child and leans in close to her. Lucas has to strain to hear the words that come from her. 

"Yes, but only when we're alone and you have to be very quiet. It'll be our little secret, promise?" She holds out her pinky for Jisoo to wrap her smaller one around. 

Lucas returns to his office with a smile on his face, something he'd not worn in such a long time the staff gave him strange looks, whispers of rumors beginning. It made no difference to him, he'd just been so happy to keep their secret safe. A secret made for two. 

[thejolexgroupchat]

Would love to see a fic of prompt #57 !!! (“So stick that in your juice box and suck it.” ) I have no idea what it would be like but it just sounds fun ahaha

We absolutely LOVE the prompts you all sent us. This fic was written by Nina @doc-pickles and Leya @iamtrebleclefstories

Enjoy the first of many collaborative fics from The Group Chat!

the one with the juice box

It was an unusually hot May day in Seattle, meaning the ER was filled with heat stroke patients that kept everyone busy. Alex had been running back and forth from the peds floor to the ER all day, checking in on new patients while still maintaining his normal routine. To be honest, he was exhausted and all he wanted was to settle in for lunch with his wife. He hadn’t seen her since they’d walked in together almost four hours ago, which wasn’t unusual, but she usually popped by to see him at least once or twice. 

Clocking off for his lunch, Alex wandered down towards the main surgical floor in search of his wife. She’d seemed okay when they were getting ready for the day, extreme morning sickness turned to only an occasional swell of nausea now that she was in her second trimester. Still, Alex couldn’t help the worry for his wife that wound itself through his body. He knew that the pregnancy was taking a toll on her, both physically and emotionally, so, although he was sure she was going to be fine, he couldn't help but worry. 

After searching and finally asking a few nurses he’d passed, he found Jo laying on an empty gurney in one of the quieter hallways. She wasn’t asleep, just laying on her back and glaring at the ceiling with the most adorable angry pout Alex had ever seen. He smiled because the position she was lying in allowed him to see the tiniest curve of her stomach, so small and barely there that he was probably the only one who noticed.

He came up behind her and pressed a tender kiss on her forehead, “Hi.”

“Shut up,” Jo scowled.

“What?” Alex asked, a puzzled look on his face. “All I did was say hi. You can’t be mad at me for that.”

“I’m not mad because you said hi,” Jo rolled her eyes. “I’m mad at you because you did this to me. You knocked me up and now I can barely stand without feeling like I’m going to fall over.”

Alex wanted to laugh, honestly. But he knew if he did, he’d end up in the doghouse. Jo’s hormones had been a whirlwind lately. Most days, he teetered on the edge of saying something equally snarky back or just taking it in stride. Today, he decided to contain himself, “You’re not dizzy because you’re pregnant. Well, it’s not the only reason you’re dizzy. You’re dizzy because you’ve barely eaten anything all day. This morning when I made breakfast, you almost bit my head off for placing eggs in front of you, and proceeded to tell me how you couldn’t stand the smell and didn’t want to eat anything. I had to practically shove that piece of toast down your throat.”

“It’s still kind of your fault. Because if I weren’t pregnant, then I wouldn’t have weird food aversions that keep me from eating.” Jo pointed out. 

“As far as I remember, you’re the one who got us into this situation. You stopped taking your pills, and I told you that I didn’t have a condom but you said and I quote, ‘I don’t care. I’m naked and horny, stop stalling and just stick it in me.’ So really, you did this to yourself,” Alex shrugged.

“Whatever,” Jo glared at her husband. “What do you want?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to come eat lunch with me,” Alex asked sweetly, knowing if he won Jo over with his charm she might not realize he was just trying to get food into her over exerted body. 

“I honestly don’t know if I can even get up from this gurney,” Jo admitted, eyes moving up to meet Alex’s. He could see just from looking at her how much of a toll everything was taking on her. “I think I’m just gonna spend the next few months here, then I don’t have to move when I give birth.”

“I’ll carry you over there if I have to,” Alex offered, holding his hand out towards Jo. “Come on, I’ll help you up and hold your hand if you get dizzy.”

“Fine,” Jo huffed and held on to Alex as she let him help her off the gurney. 

They got to the cafeteria and Jo wrinkled her nose at the available options. Nothing looked appetizing, prompting her to grab an apple and banana and sit down at a table. Alex joined her a moment later, tray loaded with a burger, a sandwich, two bags of chips, and a fruit cup. He grabbed the burger and bit into it before fixing Jo with a pointed stare.

“Please for the love of god, force yourself to eat something besides an apple,” Alex pushed the tray towards Jo who glared at him. “If you don’t eat any of that, I’m putting you on my service so I can watch you all day and make sure you don’t pass out.”

“I’m not a resident anymore, you can force me on your service,” Jo pointed out, eyeing him warily.

“Dammit. That’s right. You’re a fellow,” Alex wrinkled his nose. “Well, good news is that I’m the chief, so technically I can have you follow me around all day.” 

Jo stared him down for a moment, Alex unfazed by his wife’s glare as he bit into his burger. Finally relenting, Jo grabbed a bag of chips and began to slowly eat them between bites of fruit. 

“You know I really hate you sometimes,” Jo mumbled as she took a final bite of the apple, a low groan escaping her as she did so. “Bailey would never abuse her power like this.”

“You didn’t know her when I was a resident,” Alex took another bite of his burger. “Are you sure you don’t want anything else? You can have some of my burger.”

“I’m sure,” Jo shook her head, a disgusted look crossing her face as she settled one hand onto her stomach. “Watching you eat is making me feel nauseous.”

Alex sighed, looking to Jo with a serious expression “This isn’t okay Jo. I can’t have you walking around the hospital alone without having eaten anything. You’re with me today, okay?”

“I don’t need to be babysat Alex, I can take care of myself,” Jo whined, crossing her arms across her chest like an angry toddler. “You don’t need to watch me 24/7.”

“You fell asleep on our bathroom floor yesterday after puking for 30 minutes. How about this,” Alex leaned in towards his wife with a small grin. “Shepherd and I have a Peds case together, you can come and help us so it doesn’t feel like I’m just dragging you around to make sure you don’t pass out in a storage closet.”

Jo eyed Alex warily, he was almost certain she was going to fight him on it, but he wore his ‘I’m the Chief don't test me right now’ expression well enough that she finally conceded. 

“Ugh… fine,” Jo groaned, standing and reaching for Alex’s hand. “Bailey’s out today anyway, so it’s not like I have anything better to do. But this is a one time thing!”

Alex joined Jo, one arm wrapped tightly around her shoulder as they headed towards the elevators. 

“That’s the spirit, your enthusiasm is appreciated,” Alex chuckled as they made their way to the Peds ward. “If you keep eating and stop feeling like shit, maybe I’ll let you do more things on your own.”

Alex led Jo into a patient room, Helm and Shepherd already speaking with a young girl and her mom. Amelia was explaining the procedure to them, so Alex and Jo hung back by the door until they’d finished. 

“I brought you something,” Alex whispered, handing a box of apple juice to Jo. “Figured you can keep your electrolytes up.”

Jo rolled her eyes as she snatched the juice box from Alex, sticking it in the pocket of her lab coat. "You're a pain in the ass. Stop hovering."

“Geez, Jo. Why are you so grumpy? I'm supposed to be the grumpy one,” Alex tried joking in hopes of lightening the mood. "You're the nice one in this relationship. "

“Did you forget that I'm literally carrying your genes right now?" Jo stared her husband down. "I am part Alex Karev at this moment and will continue to be for the next five and a half months, so you better get used to this.” 

Alex narrowed his eyes at her and reached for the juice box in her pocket. He removed the straw from the plastic and handed both items back to his wife, "Whatever. You can be mean and grumpy all you want, but you're carrying our kid and they need nutrients. So, stick that in your juice box and suck it."

Jo glared at Alex as she stuck the straw in the juice box. She was about to open her mouth in response when her smart remark was interrupted by Amelia calling Alex over to speak to the mom.

“Gracie and Delilah, this is Doctor Karev. He’s the best pediatric surgeon we have and he’s going to help me fix you up Gracie,” Amelia turned from Gracie to her mom. “Seriously this guy is a miracle worker, you’re lucky I convinced him to come consult.”

Alex pulled Delilah aside, explaining in more detail exactly what Gracie’s treatment plan would look like. He could tell she was worried, but hoped that he and Amelia could keep her nerves at bay. 

“Any other questions before we start doing labs?”

“Well just one,” Delilah blushed, eyelashes batting against her cheeks as she looked up to Alex. “Would it be inappropriate for me to ask for your number?”

Now, it’s not like Alex had never been hit on at work before. He had been, plenty of times, especially being a peds surgeon that dealt with scared moms daily. But since he’d been preoccupied with his Chief duties, lately he hadn’t spent enough time alone with moms to have them hit on him. Not to mention it was the first time Alex had experienced this since he’d gotten married. He also didn’t expect for his wife to be standing on the opposite side of the room when it happened.

So for that very reason, Alex blurted out the first thing that came to his mind, “I’m sleeping with her.”

Delilah looked stunned and a bit confused, scrunching her face as she looked to the doctors behind them, “Which one?”

Alex looked around the room and saw Jo standing with Amelia and Helm talking to Gracie. Jo clinked her juice box against Gracie’s and took a giant slurp. Alex turned back around to Delilah and motioned to Jo, “The one with the juice box.”

“Oh,” Delilah nodded, a strange expression on her face.

“Yeah,” Alex laughed awkwardly, his hand coming up to rub against his neck. “That’s my wife. My pregnant wife, sharing a juice box with your kid. Who I’m about to operate on.”

Alex and Delilah stood in an awkward silence that was only broken by Amelia announcing that Helm was going to run labs for Gracie before they prepped her for surgery. Alex quickly said his goodbyes to Gracie and Delilah, grabbing Jo’s arm pulling her out of the hospital room. 

“Geez you’re eager to get out of there,” Jo joked, sipping off her juice box as they walked down the hall. “What’s up with you?”

“She hit on me,” Alex blurted out, turning to Jo with a shocked expression. “Gracie’s mom hit on me.”

There was a beat of silence between the two before Jo burst into laughter, holding a hand to her chest as she tried to contain the giggles coming from her mouth. Jo wiped a few tears from her eyes, "What did you say? Please tell me you froze like an idiot."

Alex ran a hand over his face in hopes of disguising his embarrassment, "I told her I was sleeping with the one drinking the juice box." 

"Oh God… Alex," Jo's laughter started up again. She laughed in between her words. "Out of everything... that's what you said? Did you at least say that we're married. I don't need patients thinking I'm servicing the Chief." 

"Of course. I'm not that much of an idiot," Alex sighed. "I don't need patients thinking that the Chief of Surgery is a man-whore."

"He used to be," Jo muttered under her breath, nudging Alex with a smirk.

"Shut up," Alex stuck his tongue out, deciding to mess with Jo a bit. "I haven't been like that in years. You know that you're the only person I've slept with in the past six years? You can't exactly say the same."

"Hey!" Jo gasped and slapped Alex on the shoulder. "I thought we agreed to forget about that. Me sleeping with Schmidt was a momentary lapse in judgement. And I only did it because I was trying to get over you."

"Well, would you look at how that worked out," Alex poked her small bump lightly. "You ended up with me anyway."

"I know," Jo groaned. "And now I have to put up with you for the rest of my life."

"You love me," Alex bent down and gave Jo a quick peck on the lips. "Come on, we've got like forty-five minutes before we've got to meet Shepherd in the OR and I'm going to try to force a granola bar or something down your throat."

"We've got forty-five minutes free and all you want to do is make sure I eat something?" Jo shook her head in disappointment. "Gosh, being Chief has really mellowed you out. Who are you and what have you done with Alex Karev?"

"Huh?" Alex looked at her in confusion. "What did you want to do with your free time?"

"Alex, come on. You can't be that clueless," Jo looked at him expectantly. Seeing that he wasn't going to catch on anytime soon, she decided to spell it out for him. "Dude. I'm fifteen weeks pregnant and my hormones are raging right now,"

A look of realization finally crossed Alex's face, "Oh… Oh! You wanna?"

"Yup," Jo nodded and looked at him with an expression that could only be described as hungrily. 

"I could be into that," Alex whispered. "Let's get out of here before someone sees me and decides that they need the Chief."