#ANYWAY point is. i’ve suddenly spent a lot of money in a lot of shops i’d never have been able to afford before

[areyouwho-ithinkyouare]

if my bank doesn’t contact me about abnormal payments from my account over the last two days i will be SHOCKED

[pagesoflauren]

The Highest Bidder Ch. 3 (Ransom Drysdale x reader; sugar daddy!AU)

Summary: A graduate-level education is a costly pursuit. When you move out of state to study in Boston, expenses pile up, leading you to auction off what is apparently your most valuable asset: your virginity. It goes to the highest bidder…who happens to be Ransom Drysdale.

There are no major spoilers for Knives Out. Consider this as an alternate timeline. There will be references to the movie/its characters. This chapter contains some dynamics of the Thrombey family that are revealed in the movie, which--as someone who has seen the movies multiple times--I personally consider to be very minor spoilers. Please read at your own risk.

Warnings: loss of virginity, explicit sexual content/smut, angst, sugar daddy/baby arrangement, dark elements, dubcon, cliffhangers, minor spoilers for Knives Out, swearing, Ransom is an asshole (more to add and if you spot any that I’ve missed, please kindly let me know!)

A/N: Thanks for being super patient while I worked on this! This one’s mostly plot, so I promise the next one will be smutty 😏

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Ransom slams the door of his car as he sits in the driver’s seat.

His fucking family.

There was meant to be a “pleasant Sunday brunch-adjacent get-together” for the release party of Harlan’s newest book. His family is never pleasant no matter what day they gather, so Ransom should’ve known it would’ve turned into a shitshow. 

Walt had been parading around boasting about how proud he was of “his and dad’s new book” to anyone outside of the family who would listen. Ransom’s father decided to pick a little fight with him, despite his mother’s urging not to. 

“But they aren’t your books, are they Walt?” Richard taunted, “They’re Harlan’s books.”

Ransom had parked himself right at the refreshments table, nudging the platter of breakfast pastries closer to himself. He idly picked up a croissant and nibbled as he watched everything unfold. “Shit stirring prick,” Meg muttered as she grabbed a cup of coffee. 

“This is all them, Meggy,” he said, his mouth full of soft, buttery croissant flakes. “I’m just getting a front row seat for the entertainment.”

Meg rolled her eyes and walked away. Walt had smiled simply before replying. “Of course, Richard. Just like how the real estate company is Linda’s, not yours.”

Linda then elbowed Richard, a hard signal to defend himself from her little brother’s jab like the “proud husband” he’s supposed to be.

“At least Linda was able to build something on her own.” Ransom rolled his eyes at that statement while his mother patted his father on the shoulder. 

“Only because dad was generous enough to loan her a million dollars to build that company.”

Ransom dipped his croissant into his coffee and smirked as he chewed. When his father didn’t say anything, his mother blew her cap at both of them. 

It started out relatively quiet before escalating into a full on spectacle. Across the room, Ransom saw Harlan exchange a look with Marta, his nurse, before completely ignoring the situation and returning to the conversation he was having with a guest. 

“You can’t say shit, Richard, you’re getting nothing from his family!”

Ransom laughed loudly at the truth in that declaration. The three pairs of eyes turned and fingers pointed at him before insults were spewed his way. 

Rolling his eyes, he let them at him, not caring what they were saying. It was all true. He was a little piece of shit, an entitled prick, he was all of it. 

Because of them.

Leaving his half eaten croissant in his coffee cup, he placed it on the table and coolly sauntered across the room, slander following him all the way until it was directed back within the group. 

Ransom had grabbed a copy of the book, given his granddad a nod of acknowledgement as a goodbye, then left. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the yelling all the way from the parking lot. Harlan looked a little disappointed as he left. 

What did Harlan ever do for him anyway, besides give him a generous monthly allowance? What did his parents ever do for him? His mother spent her days running a real estate company while his father devoted his time to doing everything he could to get his hands on some of that money. 

And where did Ransom fall in all of this? 

Nobody actually cared about him. They shut him up with money and invited him to parties to make him feel like he was part of something. In reality, his family was nothing to be a part of. There wasn’t anything to them. Just a pile of mystery novels that turned words into money and fed it to hungry beasts. And Ransom was one of them. 

That’s what he was, that’s what he was always meant to be. His mother never let him be a kid. When the grass was bright green after all the snow melted and Ransom rolled around, staining his crisp private school uniform with virescent splotches, she yelled at him. When she instructed her husband to continue the scolding, he gave a half-assed, “Don’t do it again.” The day was ruined after that. 

And somehow, in the moment when he breathed in your perfume, he remembered one of the few moments where he was content: watching the world spin as the sky was down and the ground was up and the conifers looked like stalactites in a strange cave. 

He loved remembering that. And it terrified him. The second he started remembering the brief golden moments of his childhood, he knew it was best to get himself off as soon as possible and take off. He’d hold on to memories of how you felt around his cock for when he couldn’t get between a girl’s legs. 

He’ll never admit to anyone how often he thinks of you and the time he spent sharing a bed with you. 

Shaking his head and starting the car, he pulled away from the party venue and drove through the city. At a stoplight, he picks up the hefty novel and flips it to the back cover.

He reads something about a statue and a dead art historian. Rolling his eyes, already disinterested, he throws the book back on the seat. 

Passing through the university area, Ransom decides to grab a cup of coffee. He pulls into a parking spot, ignoring the blinking red light of the meter as he gets out to enter the cafe. 

He does a double take when he sees you exiting with a man. You look completely different: your hair is in a messy ponytail and your makeup is more natural, focusing on accentuating your features instead of looking glamorous. You’re donning a sweater with the name of the university just across the street. 

He’s rendered immobile at the sight of you. His thoughts come crashing down on him like an avalanche.

It’s been nearly two months since that night. He’s filled the days and weeks between now and then with various girls, all of whom were confident and sexy and unafraid to match his pace in bed. He could have any one of them at his doorstep with a snap of his fingers. 

So why is he suddenly frozen, watching you and some guy walk down the street? 

It was ridiculous, really, how much he had dreamt of your encounter, tried to recall your smell and the taste of your skin. He hates that he never got a sample from between your legs. He’d been so caught up in how you felt around his finger that it went straight to his cock and he just had to be inside you. 

He’s never been so caught up on anyone before. 

When he drinks whiskey, he sees you, turning in your dress and heels. He wonders if maybe he could see you again, maybe you’d be more confident, maybe more experienced…

Have you slept with anyone since July? Have you slept with the guy you’re with now?

His wonder causes him to mindlessly follow after you, sights set on the bright scrunchie that keeps your hair together as he imagines you underneath the guy you’re walking with, crying out as he thrusts into you…

Ransom doesn’t like the idea of that. He hates it, shakes his head to dispel it from his brain. Then he stops suddenly. 

But what does it matter? You weren’t anyone to him, just some girl on a website who auctioned your virginity and he bought it. He didn’t buy you. You weren’t his to own.

He’d be lying if he said he felt he got his money’s worth though. 

When he thinks about that night, besides all the erotic images of your face and how you felt wrapped so tightly around him, there was something underneath the heat and lust he felt. He saw curiosity come across your face multiple times that night and he felt the same. 

He wanted to know what you’d look like on top. He wanted to know what you tasted like (he still hates himself for not taking the opportunity). He wanted to know what sounds you’d make when he went rough. He wanted to know how you sounded when you let yourself succumb to complete, unrestrained pleasure. 

He knew you were holding back, he saw the terror that came across your face when you looked at his size. You barely even touched him. God, how would you touch him? How would your hands feel on him, running over his skin? 

There were so many things he wanted to know about you, so many things he wanted to watch you do. 

It terrified him to remember the brief blissful moments of his childhood while he was with you, and that’s why he left so quickly. But one night with you wasn’t enough.

The thought propels him forward, stepping after you again once he spies your scrunchie again. 

You’re turning a corner; he needs to catch up. His pace quickens. 

When has he ever chased a girl before?

As he rounds the corner, Ransom sees you stepping into a shop, appearing to playfully curtsey as the man holds the door open for you. He slows down a little, wanting it to appear as if he’s casually walking around. When he reaches the shop, he realizes it’s a used bookstore. 

Maybe I can grab Harlan’s book and pretend I’m selling it.

He decides against it though. He doesn’t want to risk you getting away from him. He enters the shop and immediately goes for the taller shelves to conceal himself from plain view. Peeking between the tops of the books and the next shelf above it, he spots you. You’re near the back, looking at the large, brightly colored children’s books. 

Shit, did he get you pregnant?! 

Ransom shakes his head then smiles to himself; he remembers hearing you gasp when he rolled a condom onto himself. He feels his cock twitch at the memory. 

“God, it’s so ridiculous that we have to buy our own books for clinicals,” he hears you gripe. 

“Yeah, but it’s good practice for when we’re actually in the field,” the man nudges you with his elbow, “We’re gonna have to figure out which books will suit clients’ interest and all.” 

“Yeah, I guess. I just wish I didn’t have to do this before work tonight.”

“Don’t you work at eight, though?”

Work? Why are you working when he gave you so much money?

“Yeah, but it’s less time preparing for seminar tomorrow. Not to mention the paper for fluency. Ugh, being a grad student is so hard, Toby,” you moan, leaning your forehead on his shoulder.

A hot puff of air shoots out from Ransom’s nose.

“Oh, stop it, you big baby. C’mon. It’s barely past one. We’re gonna get this done, then go back to my place and study a little. And remember why we’re doing this?” he asks, turning so his front is facing you. Your head sags for a moment, having leaned the weight of your skull on him before your neck straightens. 

“To help kids become better communicators,” you say together, as if it’s a mantra. 

“Exactly,” the man--Toby--smiles. “Besides, it’s Sunday. I’m pretty sure the diner won’t be super crowded like it was for me last night. If anything, it’s crowded with people trying to cure their hangovers right now. Then, when the diner’s empty, you can study. It’s just on the next block over, anyway. They know you’re a student, so I don’t think they’ll kick up a fuss if you crack open a notebook. It’s just you and the cook, too, right?”

You hum in affirmation as you pick up a book and tuck it under your arm. 

“So, that just shows they know nobody’s gonna be there! You’re golden!” 

You giggle as you swat his hand away when he makes to pinch you. Ransom leans forward into the bookcase in an attempt to get closer to you, enchanted by the sound. 

What the hell has gotten into him?!

“Sir, can I help you find something?” a store associate startles him.

“What--no, no. Absolutely not,” Ransom spews, fumbling around with his hands trying to look inconspicuous. His leather jacket squeaks with his movements. The associate looks confused, tilting their head as they watch him. 

“I’m just leaving,” he shakes his head, making his way to storm out the door. 

He makes his way back to his car, taking note of the diner Toby was talking about. It really was on the next block over, hard to miss with a gaudy 50s-style neon green light-up sign and fluorescent pink lettering.

Ransom smiles to himself as he makes his way back to his car. He knows exactly what to do.

The lighting in the diner is harsh against Ransom’s eyes and he blinks a little as he gets out of his car. It’s just before midnight and the streets are empty, save for a few students who are walking into the coffeeshop and drugstores around the block. Stepping in, checkered black and light gray tiles lay on the floor, though he’s certain the gray tiles are supposed to be white. There’s a counter with a bunch of red cushioned stools and booths all around the wall. 

“Evenin’ son,” the cook says as he peeks through the window on the wall beyond the counter. “You just take a seat right up here and our hostess will be right out.”

The man turns away and shouts your name.

Ransom smirks at the sound of your name, perching himself on a stool and immediately getting comfortable. The only thing that would make this better would be if the stools had backs so he could put his feet up. Instead, he rests his elbow on the counter and waits for you to come.

The kitchen door swings open.

“Sorry to keep you waiting--” your sentence stops short and he smiles deviously at you.

You’re in the same makeup and ponytail from earlier, though this time a pen is nestled where your hair is gathered, kept in place by the scrunchie you’ve been wearing. Instead of your university sweatshirt, you’re sporting a denim blue button up waitress dress, complete with a sewn on oval white patch with your name stitched into it. There’s a white apron tied around your waist. 

His smirk deepens more. If anything, this is almost like the start to a bad porn film. One where he’d bend you over the counter and--

“Hi, Ransom,” you greet him, interrupting his almost fantasy. 

“Hey,” he nods, so satisfied in your surprised expression. 

You awkwardly place the menu in front of him and wring your hands a little.

“Can I get you anything to drink? Coffee?”

Ransom hums, pink lips puckering before he answers, “Hot chocolate, actually.”

Your nod is a little perplexed. “Okay, right. I’ll go get that for you.”

You turn to the espresso machine behind you and Ransom likes the view of your ass he’s treated to as he opens the menu. Once he’s decided, he looks up, seeing your back still turned to him as you watch hot chocolate trickle into a mug. He knows it can’t be that interesting.

“Hey,” he calls, disrupting your focus.

You whirl around, ponytail whipping about with the movement of your head. “Huh?”

“I’m ready,” he says, holding up the menu.

“Oh,” you reach into the pocket of your apron and pull out a notepad before plucking the pen from your hair. “What’ll it be?”

He multitasks, reciting his order and watching you at the same time. You seem to be avoiding looking at him, even when you ask him to clarify what bread he wants for his toast. Your eyes briefly dart up from your notepad to his face when you repeat his order.

When he hums in affirmation that you got his order correct, your movements seem to buffer. 

Got her, he thinks. 

You rip the sheet from the pad and hand it to the cook.

“Man, Monte Cristo crepes? At this time of night?”  the man whines.

Ransom gives an apathetic shrug.

“Well, alright then. You better tip our little miss here well so that she can split it with me.”

Ransom watches as you press your palm into your forehead, probably cringing at the idea of him tipping you after he paid you $50,000. 

You turn back to the espresso machine and grab the mug, carefully carrying it to him.

“Whipped cream?” you offer, taking out the silver canister from the fridge underneath the counter. 

“No,” he shakes his head, “I’d prefer having that in the bedroom.” 

You seem to huff a laugh at that and you put the canister back where it belongs. 

He takes a sip, then his face scrunches. 

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Is this imported?” 

It appears you can’t help the bewildered smile that comes across your face. “Um, I don’t know where it’s from, but I don’t think it’s imported.”

“Oh.” He gives an experimental sip, holding the liquid in his mouth before he swallows.

“Is it okay?” you ask.

So you’re a people pleaser… or you’re just a waitress trying to make sure your customer’s satisfied.

“Yeah, it’s acceptable.”

“Oh, good,” you smile, relieved. 

He only nods and turns his attention to the rest of the diner. It really is only the three of you there. Again, the idea of this situation being like a bad porno crosses Ransom’s mind. 

When he looks at you again, you’re cleaning the coffee machine.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

“Cleaning the coffee machine.”

“No, what are you doing here?”

You turn to look at him. “I’m working…?”

“Well, I can see that, but I gave you fifty grand.” 

Your head whips to look over at the cook. Ransom’s eyes follow, seeing he’s occupied at the stove. He didn’t appear to hear anything. “Fifty grand’s not nothing. Did they not send you the payment?”

“You know, I could ask you what you’re doing here, too. I didn’t pin you as someone who lived in the university area,” you say, changing the subject. 

“I don’t live around here.”

“Then what are you doing here?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

Your eyes narrow. He can see you’re strategizing. 

“If I answer your questions, will you answer mine?”

“Sure,” Ransom relaxes as much as he can, though he has to be honest, the stool doesn’t give him that much lounging real estate. 

“They sent me the payment.”

“So, why are you working?”

“I go to school across the street. The money you gave me is enough to pay for the tuition costs not covered by financial aid. But I need to pay for books and rent and groceries. And it’ll be four more semesters until I finish my degree, so I’ll need a little more than what you gave me to keep my head above water.”

So that’s why you thanked him. He helped pay for your education. 

He nods, sipping his chocolate. As a plot forms in his head, he has to admit, for some cheap, unimported trash, it’s growing on him. Said plot would involve him getting what he wants from you and you no longer needing to work in this dump. He goes to open his mouth and you turn with a smile of your own. 

“You said if I answer your questions, then you’d answer mine.” 

“And if I don’t answer your question?” he challenges. 

You smile. “Then this conversation is over.”

You raise your eyebrows expectantly at him and he shakes his head, giving a half-shrug. 

“Just here to grab some Monte Cristo crepes and kill a craving,” he lies. Maybe the craving part is true, though. 

You hum in acknowledgement, though he’s not sure you fully accept his answer. Taking the towels you used to clean the coffee machine, you disappear into the back. When you return, you’re holding a notebook. 

“How long have you been working here?” 

“Why do you care?”

“Just trying to make conversation,” he feigns innocence.

“You don’t strike me as the kind of man who does that.”

Ah, so suddenly you have the ability to get a read on people? What other things does he not know about you? Your encounter at the hotel made him think you were some naive young woman who was sheltered all her life. In the fifteen minutes he’s been here, you’re showing him you’re anything but.

What else is there to discover about you? he wonders.

“I’m just asking because I might be able to help you. Financially.”

“Ransom, I have nothing else left to offer,” you say. 

So you think.

“And your payment was more than generous.”

The cook calls to you and places a plate on the kitchen window sill. You grab it and set Ransom’s order in front of him.

“Anything else I can get you?”

“Nothing...for now,” he remarks suggestively. 

You nod once and open your notebook. As Ransom revels in the cheesy goodness of the crepes in front of him, he watches you quickly jot down things onto the paper and listens to you mutter to yourself. 

As he scarfs down all the greasy morsels and chases each bite with hot chocolate, he considers badgering you more. But seeing how stressed you look, he decides to back off. 

If you were his mother, on the other hand…

When he’s done, he snaps his fingers at you. You look unamused at the gesture but clear his plate anyway. You bring it back to the kitchen. He hears some chatter and the sink running before you return and stand at the register. He’s again treated to a view of your ass as you shift from one foot to another while processing the transaction. 

“I’m taking fifteen,” the cook calls to you.

“Alright,” you shout back, tearing away his receipt and Ransom’s ready with a couple bills. 

“Just keep the change,” he winks at you. “Well, maybe give some of it to your grumpy cook.”

He likes the way you laugh at his comment. 

“Thanks,” you smile at him again. “See you...whenever, I guess.”

“Actually,” he begins, “about that help I can give you…”

You sigh. “I already told you, there’s nothing else I can offer you. You,” he watches as you pause and laugh humorlessly,” You paid for my virginity and you got it. Unless you have a kid who needs help with reading or writing, I don’t think--”

“I’m not paying you to tutor anyone.” Ransom bites the inside of his cheek as he smiles at himself. 

Maybe you can help Walt with some comprehension issues.

“I was thinking...you and I can come to some sort of arrangement.”

“‘Arrangement’?” You lean against the counter with the espresso machine, arms folded across your chest as you face him. 

“Yeah. You live with me, I cover whatever other living costs you need. And you,” he says, one corner of his mouth curls up wickedly as he leans his arms on the counter in an attempt to get closer to you, “You keep me entertained.”

The way your eyes widen slightly at the word “entertained” tells him you know exactly what he means. 

“I don’t think so,” you scoff, shaking your head and walking to retrieve your notebook.

Well, that wasn’t the answer he was expecting. 

“Excuse me?” he asks, appalled. His eyes follow your figure walking to the other side of the counter. 

“I don’t think so,” you repeat plainly.

What even is this? He’s never been rejected by a woman before. They fell at his feet all the time. There were some that played hard to get, but they always came crawling to him in the end. 

He has to admit, though, he does like this side of you. 

“Why not?” he presses.

You look around as if to check if anyone’s around to hear you. “I didn’t even orgasm, Ransom,” you laugh. “I’d rather rough it and have a job here instead of entering an arrangement where I’m not going to get something out of it.”

“You’re getting something out of it,” Ransom says, standing up to follow you across the counter. “I told you, I’ll cover your living costs.”

“I mean something pleasurable, you doofus.”

You turn to go into the kitchen. 

Normally, Ransom isn’t a man who begs. But he always gets what he wants. And hell, he wants you and all the memories you bring back to him. He wants to uncover you layer by layer until he reaches your very core and knows you inside and out.

God, what is this mushy stuff he’s thinking right now?

“Whoa, whoa, wait, wait, wait,” he says. “You didn’t…? And because of that you don’t wanna do this?”

“No.”

“Listen, I can make you cum,” he states firmly, index finger pressing into the countertop as if to make his point.

“You don’t need to get so worked up over this, Ransom,” he scowls when you laugh at him, “You’re a handsome guy. I’m sure there’s plenty of other girls who will gladly take you up on your offer.”

Somehow, you calling him handsome doesn’t stroke his ego. Rather, it feels insulting. This is you letting him down easy. 

Fuck no.

“I don’t want the other girls.”

“Is that to suggest you want me?” you inquire. 

“The arrangement isn’t going to benefit just me in bed,” he changes the subject. 

“Oh, it wouldn’t?” you say, unimpressed again. 

His smirk mirrors yours. 

If it’s a game you want to play, game on.

“How about a deal?” 

Your eyes narrow. “What kind of deal?”

He rests his forearms on the counter this time. “I make you cum, you enter this arrangement with me. If not, you never have to see me again.”

He can see the gears turning in your head.

“Three,” you say.

“Sorry, what?” he shakes his head, confused.

“I wanna cum three times,” you tell him. 

He chuckles to himself. He likes that you’re not afraid to say what you want. Besides, another night with you would mean he gets his $50,000 worth. 

“Easy.”

“Well, then, Ransom, you got yourself a deal.” You offer your hand for him to shake.

Taking your hand, he yanks you towards him so you’re right up against the counter. He leans forward, your faces less than an inch apart. That glint of nervousness flashes in your eyes again and again, he chuckles.

“No. I got you.”

Permatag: @caffiend-queen @fckdeusername @lou-la-lou @bangtan-serendipity

Chris tag: @onetwo3000 @patzammit

Ransom tag: @jeremyrennermakesmesmile

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[writingwithacupoftea]

A family reunited - part 2!

Summary: The time has come for Y/N Shelby to explain her five-year disappearance to her family. Tommy, her beloved elder brother, proves to be less than understanding...

Word Count: 3220

A/N: 300 followers?? I still can’t believe it. I know this part 2 has been a long time coming, so I hope it serves as enough of a thank you 😘 I’ve never written a sequel to a fic before, so I don’t know how this will go down, but I hope you like it!! 💜💜

Part 1

Y/N Shelby had loved seeing her family again, she really did: it had been what she'd dreamed of for so long, just for them to know that she was alive had brought her happiness.

What she didn't love was Tommy's booming wake-up call of "FAMILY MEETING AT THE SHOP IN AN HOUR - DON'T BE LATE," at half past 8 in the morning.

Ah, but she sort of did at the same time.

Thinking back to the night before, Y/N found a warm, fuzzy feeling spreading throughout her body and a smile spread across her face as she snuggled back into her pillow. Her eyes began to close again, tempting a few more minutes sleep – surely she would still make the meeting in time?  

At the thought of the meeting, however, Y/N suddenly found herself wide awake as she realised what the meeting would be for: she was going to have to explain herself. Y/N was going to have to tell everyone why she disappeared for so many years and what happened in that time. Her stomach began to churn and her mind started to race, trying to hurriedly plan out what she would say, but unsure where to even begin.  

Y/N was proud of her work as a spy during the war, but that didn't mean that she was looking forward to reliving some of the details of her story.

Knowing that there was no point in delaying the inevitable for longer than necessary, she dragged herself out of bed and sent up a little prayer for the strength that she so desperately needed.

***

As Y/N walked into the meeting an hour later, she noticed the change in Tommy immediately. Gone was the loving brother that had spent the entire evening practically glued to her hip, and in his place was the cold leader of the Peaky Blinders that Polly had told her about upon her return to Birmingham.  

Whilst in hiding, Y/N had seen the impact that the war had had on the men who fought in France, but that didn't stop her heart from breaking slightly as she properly looked at Tommy in the light of day. He had always been quiet and controlled, but never to this extent.

She sat down at the table, and soon enough the whole family were gathered. Y/N couldn't bear to look at them, even though she hadn't said a thing yet. She feared their judgement, and was petrified that they would kick her out when she'd only just got back.  

But Y/N knew that in order for this to go the way that she wanted it to, she couldn't afford to let thoughts like that show. Instead, she needed to make it clear to her brothers that she still stood by her decision to leave. She had been made stronger by her mistakes and experiences during her time away, and refused to let them believe otherwise.  

So, as Tommy cleared his throat to begin speaking, Y/N took a deep breath and looked up.

"Right, well, we're all here - "

"That we are!" Arthur's hand came down and rested on her shoulder roughly, causing Y/N to smile in amusement.

"Yes, thank you, Arthur." Tommy's gruff voice cut through the joy. "So, Y/N, would you care to tell us where the fuck you've been for five years?"

Out of instinct, the woman in question met her older brother's blue eyes, hoping to find the comfort and support that they had always shown to her in the days before the war. But there was nothing; not even the slightest bit of love, or encouragement, or anger or anything.

In that moment, Y/N realised that no one could help her – only she could tell the story.

And so, she began...

***

A couple of hours later, it was finally over.

Y/N had told them all about how she had been recruited as a British spy, recounted most of her tales (but not all – some of them were still highly confidential and as much as she loved Arthur and John, Y/N wouldn't trust them with a barge pole when it came to keeping secrets), and eventually about her time in hiding and return to Birmingham.

Miraculously, she hadn't shed a single tear. Not even when she'd recounted the worst trappings and beatings. Before coming down to the meeting, Y/N had debated whether or not to tell her family about those times, but in the end she knew that the full truth would come out in time and that it would be better to get all of the pain out of the way at once. Whether that pain was for Y/N or everyone else, she wasn't sure.

But Y/N also hadn't been able to suppress her laughs and smiles at the happier memories: the friends that she'd made, the clubs that she'd danced at undercover, the boys that she'd seduced whether as part of her mission or just for a bit of fun (Tommy may appear to be an expert at controlling his emotions now, but you bet that Y/N didn't miss his jaw clench in protective anger several times).

Now, silence filled the room. A silence that seemed to last for eternity for Y/N. Unable to cope with it for any longer, she spoke again, this time unable to control the waiver of emotion in her voice: "Please say something, anything. You lot have always got something to say," Y/N finished with a slight laugh. Unknowingly, she had directed her words at Tommy, who was staring at her, his eyes as cold as ice. Y/N hated the fact that she sounded like a little girl again, seeking his approval; Tommy's opinion had always been important to her, no matter how many times she had vehemently denied the fact when she was younger.

Surprisingly to her, it was John who spoke first, looking at her directly as he did so. "We're proud of you, Y/N/N."

"Yeah," Arthur continued, gruffly. "Just a fucking lot to take in, is all."

Silence infiltrated the room once more, only cushioned by Polly reaching over to grasp her niece's hand tightly.

Realising that Tommy wasn't going to speak any time soon, Y/N stood up as if to leave, her chair screeching horribly across the floor. "Well if that's it, I'll go and -"

"Why?" Her second eldest brother cut her off. Even though her back was now turned, Y/N felt his gaze burning into her.

"Why?" She repeated, confused, as she turned around.

"You heard me. Why did you go?"

"Christmas had long gone, Tommy. I needed to do something other than sit around in Small fucking Heath waiting for you lot to come back. I tried to help with the business, you know I have ideas. But I got nowhere because I'm a woman, alright? So, when an opportunity arose to go and do something useful, of course I was going to jump at it."

Tommy scoffed. "Do you realise how fucking selfish you sound?"

Y/N's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Excuse me?"

"Even after you knew that the war wouldn't be ending any time soon, you still went gallivanting off, throwing yourself headfirst into danger. Did you not stop to think that this family could have lost another member? You clearly didn't, because apparently all that matters to you is getting a rush of adrenaline and trying to be the hero."

Crack. The sound of Y/N's open palm meeting Tommy's cheek echoed through the room.

"How dare you, Thomas Shelby." Y/N's voice was deadly quiet, her rage and feelings of betrayal bubbling ferociously inside of her. "How fucking dare you. After everything that I've just told you, you have the nerve to stand there and call me selfish? I knew that when I signed up there was a chance that I might not come back, but I did it anyway, you're right. I did it in the hopes that my work may help to end the bloody war sooner, so that it was more likely that you boys would come home alive. Because if none of you came back, have you thought, Thomas, how wrecked this family would be? Not just emotionally, but financially as well. There would be three women, Finn, and John's kids left and that would be it. We would hardly be able to bring enough money in to keep everyone safe and together forever, at least not until the children had grown up. As much as you might not like it, Tommy, that I knowingly put myself in a situation where I could've been killed, I did it to try and protect this family."

If Y/N had looked around at her family at that moment, she would have witnessed the shock and pain etched onto the face of each person around the table. None of them had realised that she had put so much thought into her decision to leave. Instead her eyes were locked with those of her brother, unwilling to back down.

Breaking the silence, Y/N added bitterly, "Still think I'm selfish, Thomas?"

She didn't know what she'd expected.  

Y/N knew that Tommy wouldn't take it all well, and whilst his instinct to protect her and make sure that she was safe typically overrode everything else, she had hoped that he would have at least understood her reasons behind her actions. He had always said that family came before anything else. So, when Tommy barged past her, storming out of the shop and slamming the door behind him, Y/N couldn't help the sob that escaped her.

***

Dusk had settled over the city. Y/N was sat by the Cut, mulling over the events of the last 48 hours.

After Tommy had left, she had broken down completely, letting out all of the emotion that she had kept pent-up for so long. Her siblings, aunt and cousin had told her that Tommy would come around, and that they would do anything that they could for her.  

But, as much as she adored her entire family, she needed Tommy; she needed the brother who had stood by her through thick and thin, who had always trusted her judgement and always loved her no matter what. She hadn't realised how much she had needed him until he had turned his back on her completely.

When most of her tears had dried, Y/N left the shop herself, murmuring a quick "I'll be back later" before she did. The family had let her go, knowing that she needed the time and space to process everything and calm down.

A few hours later, she did feel calmer as she took in the familiar surroundings (a hidden spot next to the Cut that her and Tommy had found when they were younger and hiding from their father). That was until she heard footsteps quickly approaching her from behind...

***

Tommy's mind was racing at a mile a minute.

Once again, he'd gone and ruined things with his family. He'd probably destroyed his relationship with Y/N for good, something that he couldn't bear the thought of losing. His little sister meant the world to him; it just hurt him to know that she had been through so much by herself, and that he hadn't been able to stop it. At least in the trenches he'd had his brothers by his side. Y/N had no one.

But he could help her now. He had realised that after hiding himself away in the Garrison with his thoughts. He'd realised that his place was now back by his sister's side once more.

Tommy had made his way back to the shop to try and make amends, and marched straight over to Polly. "Where is she?" His voice may not have shown it to his aunt, but she could see the emotion in his eyes. Polly was glad that her nephew seemed to have got some of his sense back, but she sure as hell wasn't going to make things easy for him. Tommy's behaviour had been despicable, after all.

"She left." Polly said, simply, returning to her work.

"Left?"

"You heard me, Thomas." God, how many times was he going to be full-named today?

"Left where?"

"She didn't say."

Tommy felt a niggle of anxiety stirring in him. "Well, did she say when she'd be back?"

"No." Polly's lips were pursed in irritation.

"You let her wander off alone, I take it, without asking where she was going or what she was doing, eh? Do you know how fucking stupid that is? We've only just got her back, and you're risking losing her again?"

"Perhaps you should listen to your own words. At least I wasn't the one who caused her to have a panic attack." It was harsh, but partly true: the combination of the memories and Tommy's reaction had caused Y/N to spiral.

Tommy froze, worry and guilt consuming him. How could he have let this happen? He had spent half of the night in Y/N's bedroom last night, making sure that she was real and safe, and now she was gone again.

Walking back out of the shop, Tommy found himself hiding in an alleyway, trying to collect his thoughts as his hands shook. Where could Y/N be? Where would she go when she was scared and upset?

Suddenly, he knew.

***

The hurried footsteps drew nearer, and instinct took over Y/N's entire being. She spun around, gun cocked and pointed straight at the source of the noise, her breathing speeding up again as the last ebbs of her panic attack began escalating quickly again.

Any relief that Tommy had felt at finding his sister faded at seeing her distressed state. He raised his hands slowly and spoke softly to her: "It's okay, Y/N/N. It’s just me, it's Tommy. You're home, you're safe." As he continued to offer his reassurances that she wasn't under threat and edged closer to her, he noticed recognition begin to sweep over Y/N.

Her gun clattered to the ground as she broke down into tears again, relaxing into her brother's embrace as he sat down next to her and pulled the young woman into his arms. In that moment, Tommy realised how broken his sister was, how much the war had affected her, just like him.

Eventually, Y/N's breathing became normal again, the sound of Tommy's heartbeat and the gentle hand stroking her hair grounding her.

After a few moments, Tommy mustered up the courage to say the words that had been on repeat in his head for so long. "I'm sorry, sweetheart." Y/N looked up at him with those big eyes that had him wrapped around her little finger. "I was...overwhelmed and I lashed out, even though you didn't deserve it. Hell, you probably even saved our lives at some point and all I do is call you selfish. I went too far, and I'm sorry."

Y/N smirked slightly at Tommy's obvious discomfort at his confession, but it melted into a gentle smile when she looked up and was met with his loving yet troubled gaze.

"Thank you, Tommy." His entire demeanour relaxed at these words. "Do you understand though? Do you understand why I did it all in the first place? Do you understand why your reaction broke me? All I needed was for my brother to be there, and you just walked out on me. You promised me that you never would. You promised."

Tommy took her hand tightly in his larger one and nodded slightly, a lump forming in his throat. His other hand settled in his coat pocket as he asked: "Are you really back to stay?" The vulnerability that had been uncovered again last night had now returned.

"Yeah, I am." Y/N squeezed his hand. "Doesn't mean you're completely forgiven yet though; speak to me like that again and I'll cut you a smile on that grumpy face."

Tommy breathed out a slight laugh, despite the threat (which he knew was an honest one). "Oh, I missed you, darling." He wrapped his arm around Y/N and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"Missed you too, Tom."

***

The siblings sat there, peacefully, for a little while longer. Whilst part of Y/N was still angry at her brother, she couldn’t deny that she felt at home back by his side, in their special childhood hiding place. So, for now, she decided to put her anger behind her.

Soon enough, the chill of the night air began to settle around them. Tommy offered Y/N a hand up and wrapped his long black coat tightly around her, before the pair slowly started walking back towards the streets of Birmingham.

“I promise I’ll try and be better, for you.” Tommy’s voice cut through the silence. I can’t bear the thought of you leaving again because I pushed you out, he added in his head.

Y/N smiled sadly. “Don't make promises you might not be able to keep, Tom. We’re different people compared to who we used to be. All we can do is try, eh?”

Tommy stopped off at the office to call Polly and let her know that Y/N was staying with him for the night. Y/N found herself looking around the big building, in awe of what her family had managed to achieve.

She plunged her hands in the big pockets of Tommy's coat as a shiver wracked her body, frowning when her fingers touched something familiar. Checking that her brother was still on the phone, she pulled the object out and her eyes widened in surprise as she stared at it. It was a small stuffed toy, shaped to resemble a horse (sort of, it was definitely handmade).  

Y/N had loved it when she was younger, and barely used to be seen without it. When she grew into a teenager, she had hidden the toy in her old childhood treasure box and retrieved it when she felt low, even as she had entered adulthood. She had been devastated when she couldn't find it to comfort her the day that her brothers had left for France.

The horse was more frayed and tattered than she remembered, and dirtier too. Y/N had always been meticulous for looking after her possessions, not having much of her own.  

Then the explanation for its state and whereabouts dawned on Y/N: Tommy had taken it to France and kept it with him ever since, a constant reminder of her.

Placing the toy carefully back where she found it, Y/N looked through the glass to Tommy’s office with tears in her eyes as he hung up the phone. A small smile flickered across his face as he caught sight of his sister and made his way straight to her, not a single piece of work in his hands.

"Come on," Tommy said, softly. "Let's go home."

As her brother subtly offered her his arm, Y/N felt optimistic about the future for the first time in years. As Tommy rested his hand on top of hers, which now sat in the crook of his arm, one thought crossed Y/N's mind:

Maybe Tommy would try. Maybe there was hope for him yet.

But the Shelby family knew that there was hope, because Tommy's guiding light always came in the form of Y/N Shelby...and she wasn't going anywhere any time soon.

[recurring-polynya]

i’m gonna try out my luck for the renji bday thing😭

- renji being a mediator between rukia and ichika(idk why i feel like rukia and ichika would get into rly dumb arguments and just fight like they’re the same age)

- renji and ichika get a tattoo

- jealous rukia(of course)

- anything that takes place in inuzuri, i loved your ‘dumb teens stealing kisses’ snippet so much 😭

- more of the tattoo artist renji falls for a client AU

I hope you’ll forgive me for cheating a bit, but when I saw this, I said, “what if I just gave you more of the dumb teens stealing kisses” fic? because honestly, it’s just sitting here.

For people who don’t obsessively follow my incoherent ramblings about my own WIPs, this is an excerpt for i can’t believe i found you in that town, a story that takes place during Renji and Rukia’s last year in Inuzuri. Two out of their three friends have passed away, their powers are growing steadily stronger, and they are starting to face the fact that they aren’t children anymore. I have two more parts of Heart is a Muscle to get through first, so I never work on it, but it is very close to my heart.

PS: This is not going on ao3 at this time, because I really do intend to finish it eventually, so consider this a Tumblr exclusive.

❄    ❄     ❄

In a strange confluence, all three of them have found gainful employment at the same time.

Renji is guarding crates. He does not ask what is in the crates. He does not want to know what is in the crates. He stands next to the crates and his size deters most people. Occasionally, he is called upon to punch someone in the face. It’s good work.

Fujimaru got him this gig, actually. Mameji was good with numbers and he taught Fujimaru a lot, and now Fujimaru has a gig keeping the books for the guys who own the crates. That seems like pretty good work to Renji, too. Fujimaru says he wishes it involved more punching people. Renji wishes his job involved punching fewer people. Everyone’s got complaints.

Rukia has found work in a shop. This is charming and hilarious to both boys. It’s a pawn shop that paradoxically seems to buy about three times as much junk as it sells. It’s obvious that the only reason the owner hired Rukia is because the clientele likes to come in and look at her, but the fact is, she’s an amazing bargainer, and she’s making him a ton of change.

Renji stops in one late afternoon when his own shift is over, and watches her sell a man a knife that looks like it will break if he looks at it funny. She offers to throw in a shitty ball of twine and the man agrees to pay what is easily four times what the knife is worth, and leaves smiling. Amazing.

The shop owner eyes Renji warily. Renji never starts trouble, and he’s even stopped it once or twice, but at the same time, his presence is cramping the appeal of the pretty shopgirl.

“I’m off,” Rukia tells her boss.

“See y’tomorrow,” the seedy man grumbles.

“You don’t get paid every day?” Renji asks Rukia loudly. “I get paid at the end of every shift.”

“She gets paid at the end of the week,” the shopkeeper grouses.

Renji flexes one arm experimentally, admiring his own bicep. “It’s nice getting paid every day. Makes you want to come back the next day, y’know.”

“She comes back every day so she can get paid at the end of the week.”

Rukia’s eyes dart between them.

“Ah, you must be a great boss, very trustworthy,” Renji comments, stretching his back. “Although gettin’ paid every day is a nice way to show trust, too. Hey, Ru, you wanna stop at Takahashi’s on the way home? I heard they got in some dried mackerel and I,” he winks at Rukia’s boss, “got paid today.”

“Pfft,” Rukia huffs, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders. “I’m sure it’s a scam. We need rice, though, and more water.”

“Hey, girl,” Rukia’s boss spits out. “You had a good shift! Here’s your pay for today, as a reward for doing so well. Come back tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course,” Rukia agrees, taking the coins with a sly smile.

As they head out of town, she jabs him in the ribs with her elbows. “You’re so obvious.”

“Got you paid, didn’t I?”

“You did, thank you. He hates you, you know.”

Renji sighs dramatically. “How can I live with myself?”

Rukia snorts. “He’s gross, I hate him. I hate that whole job. Smiling at people. Acting kind to horrible people. It’s so fake. I don’t know why you like working so much, I’d rather just steal.”

“I’ve seen you working, what you do is not much different from stealing.” Renji rubs his hands together. It’s getting cold, especially with the sun setting. “I appreciate the effort, though. I mean, we do. Me and Fujimaru. I like this. Having money, that is. It’s nice.”

Rukia regards him out of the corner of her eye.

“Do you? Do you appreciate it?”

Renji frowns. “Yeah, of course I do. I know you don’t like it.”

Rukia stops walking and turns to him. “C’mere.” She gestures toward herself and makes the pointing motion she does when she wants him to bend down to her level. Even though this results in a cuff to the back of his head more often than not, Renji obeys. “If you really appreciate it, I think you should do something nice for me.”

Renji should know by now to be wary of such an ominous statement, but he falls for it anyway. “Sure. Name it.”

“I want to kiss you again.”

Renji tugs at his ponytail. “Again? Really?”

It was probably six years between the first and second time she had wanted to kiss him, but the second time had only been a few months ago, last spring, after he broke his arm saving her from a large, angry man she had attempted to pickpocket.

“You said you were open to the idea,” Rukia scowled.

“I...did,” Renji stammered. To be fair, he had been in immense pain at the time and probably would have agreed to just about anything. He could have used that as an excuse. It seemed like Rukia was thinking the same, he could tell she was already getting herself wound up to be hurt at his rejection. That stung a little, the idea that she expected so little of him. “No problem. Anything for you. Go for it.” He bent his knees a little deeper and squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for impact.

“You gotta relax a little, man, it’s not a punch in the nards,” Rukia scolded, grabbing ahold of his ears and laying one on him.

Renji didn’t fantasize about kissing girls. He liked girls well enough, but he liked guys more. There was one exception to that rule, and that was Rukia. He liked her more than anyone. It wasn’t right to fantasize about Rukia, though, in his opinion, because he lived with her and it wasn’t respectful and also… also, if he spent too much time thinking about things like kissing her, he might want to do it. So, he avoided the slippery slope of girls in general, and restricted his spicy kissing fantasies to the lean, knife-eyed Rukongai punks that hung out on street corners and had really sexy ways of saying “heeeeeey.” Renji was perpetually working on his “heeeeeeys.”

But Rukia was kissing him now, and it seemed equally disrespectful to pretend she wasn’t. Her lips were soft against his, and curious. Her fingers relaxed their painful grip on his ears and snuck around to rest on the back of his neck. She must have been keeping her hands in her sleeves, because they were warm, and they felt so good and this was good, this was so, so good and it occurred to Renji that maybe he was meant to kiss her back, she had never mentioned anything about--

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it, Abarai?” Rukia was saying.

It was over.

Renji blew air out his cheeks. “Naw, it was fine. Ah, did you, uh… was it everything you hoped and dreamed?”

“It was okay,” she shrugged, but her eyes twinkled. She started walking again and Renji had to do a little skip and a jump to catch up. “Fujimaru’s probably home already. How come he didn’t come with you to pick me up?”

“Oh, there were extra crates today, so he’s working late. But we can have the rice ready and surprise him!”

“Mm, yes, that sounds nice,” Rukia agreed. She hummed a little as she walked. “Hey, Renji?”

“Yeah?”

“Back at the shop-- did you call me Ru? What was that?”

Renji made a face. “I dunno. I thought it was cute.” You’re cute, his brain added, and suddenly, he couldn’t unsee it. She was unbearably cute, wrapped up in her shawl, that little piece of hair hanging between her eyes, those beautiful eyes. “If you don’t like it, I’ll--”

“You’ve known me for nine years and you decide, just now, to give me a nickname?”

He shrugged. “Things can change, right? Even out here in the ass end of Rukongai?”

She regarded him for a moment. “It is cute. I will allow it, but only from you, and don’t do it around gross people like my greasy boss.”

“Yeah, no prob,” he agreed, squeezing his hands under his armpits. He had a bad feeling that they were in for a brutal winter this year.

“Hey!” Rukia said, and he realized she was holding out his hand to him. Gingerly, he took it, hoping she wouldn’t mind his own cold fingers. She didn’t seem to.

[sadsilktrader]

Secret Admirer

I apologize for my extreme tardiness for posting to the Geraskier Holiday Exchange. This was written for @gotfanfiction 

A modern Geraskier AU in which Jaskier is receiving gifts from an admirer.

...

"I'm telling you Yen, the man doesn't even know I exist. It can't be him," Jaskier paced the living room of his small apartment, small watering can in hand, completely forgotten. His plants looked on forlornly. 

"Hm," she replied, he could hear the scritch-scratch of the emery board while she only half-listened to his prattling. "All I'm saying is that he was there at the pub the night you played and he lives in your building and he can hear you when you practice and those have all been the nights you've got gifts from your secret admirer." 

"Half the building goes to that pub, it could be anyone! Plus, he doesn't even know I exist. " He flopped dramatically onto the couch, spilling water on himself. "Anyway, I'll let you go do whatever important business you have to do. You'll be here before my show on Saturday with Triss, right?" 

"We'll be there. We just have to drop Ciri off at her dad's first. Now promise me you'll at least talk to him next time you see him."

"Maybe." He grumbled. 

"What was that?"

"Fine, fine! I promise!" 

"You better. I'm tired of listening to you wistfully sigh every time we speak."

"You're the worst."

"I love you too Jaskier, bye." 

The phone clicked. 

He'd met Yen online, a friend of a friend of a friend. They played DnD together, starting off as catty enemies and somehow developing into the deep friendship they had now. She was a good person, just a little rough around the edges. Well, very rough around the edges. 

She'd settled down a lot over the last few years when motherhood had fallen into her lap though. He wasn’t certain about all the details, they were close but she was a private person. She shared custody of her adopted daughter, Ciri, with her ex. He'd never had the pleasure of meeting the man but he'd heard enough about him to form his own opinions. Heart in the right place but not exactly open about his feelings. 

Sounded a lot like his own mysterious love. He sighed again, there was no way it was his gorgeous and stoic upstairs neighbor. The man was gorgeous and kind and lovely. He was tall and pale with silky white hair. Not to mention outrageously muscular. Jaskier had seen him in their apartment's gym working out on more than one occasion. It had taken every ounce of his self-control to keep himself from openly ogling him. He'd seen him feeding the feral cat that lived in the parking lot. Helping their elderly neighbors with their groceries. Playing with his daughter on the weekends. The man was too good to be true. Which was why he was absolutely positive he couldn't be the one leaving the gifts at his door. 

The mystery man was perfect but he, Julian Alfred Pancratz, college drop out, jobless, barely squeezing by with the money he made by doing odd jobs in the apartment complex and occasionally performing at the neighborhood pub, was an absolute mess. There was no way someone like the man would give him more than a passing glance. 

He sat up quickly leaving the forgotten, spilled watering can to the side to search for his notebook and pen. At least all the angst and longing seemed to also be a fantastic inspiration. 

...

He chewed his lip, the leather-bound notebook balanced on his knee. He strummed a few chords on his guitar before setting it back carefully down to scribble something down. 

The sun was fully set now and his balcony light had flicked on giving the small area an ethereal glow. He loved the process of writing and creating outside where he could feel the world around him. There was something about feeling the gentle breeze against him, the sun and moon shining down on him, and the fluttering hummingbirds that visited his feeder that just felt right.  

He stretched and yawned and was contemplating packing up for the night when he heard it. A barely-there, soft knock at his door. Eyes gone wide he all but threw his things down and ran to the door to open it. No one. As always. There was however a small box tied in a ribbon and a note attached. 

A voice so sweet deserves something sweet in return. -love, your admirer 

He undid the ribbon and opened the box. Inside was an assortment of homemade chocolates. He popped one in his mouth and let it slowly melt over his tongue. Dark chocolate, caramel, sea salt. He couldn't help the sappy smile that plastered itself on his face and would stay there the rest of the night. 

It had been a little over a month since the gifts started arriving. Most of the time they were baked goods or sweets of some kind but occasionally it was something different.  A clutch of flowers, a silver bracelet with music notes engraved, once there was even a picture of a particularly beautiful sunrise left for him. He treasured them all. 

He was a hopeless romantic down to the core of his being. He had never met his admirer but he was sure it would be love at first sight.

…

He was bone tired. He'd spent the day hauling furniture away to the thrift store and painting the walls of one of his elderly neighbors who was soon moving to a rest home. For all the work he was paid thirty dollars and a batch of very good snickerdoodle cookies. He knew it was all the woman could afford to give him and he was grateful for that. Not exactly enough to pay the rent but enough to buy a few groceries at least. 

He stood in the deli section, weighing out the pros and cons of value pack meats when he saw him. The man, his white hair hanging loose around his shoulders, dark jeans, and a leather jacket. His breath hitched and his mouth went dry. 

Gods how can anyone look that attractive just going to the grocery store. 

The man looked up, catching him staring. His eyes the color of amber and honey. He felt like a deer in the headlights caught in his gaze. A few faint scars visible on his face and neck. He couldn't help but wonder if there were more on the rest of the man's body and felt a blush rise to his cheeks. 

"It's leaking." The man said.

"What?"

"The honey ham your holding, it's leaking."

He stared at the gorgeous being before him for a moment longer before it clicked. 

"Oh fuck," he dropped the squishy package on the ground, ham juices splashing on the both of them. 

"Oh, gods I'm so sorry," he wasn't sure his face could get any redder. 

"It's okay, really. I've had much worse things spilled on me before. You looked pretty lost in thought."

An employee glared at him with a mop and trash can. He smiled awkwardly, wishing he could just disappear. 

"You're the musician, right? I live in the apartment above yours. I can hear you playing from my living room." The way the man said it had him wondering if that was a good thing or not. 

"I'm Julian, well Jaskier to my friends and fans." He mustered up the courage he usually reserved for the stage and gave the man his best smile. 

"Geralt. I'd shake your hand but," He nodded to his arms full of groceries. "You know when you go into the store thinking you only need one thing?" 

"Well, you're in luck," he gestured to his cart, "I just so happen to have the best cart in the store. Not a squeaky wheel in sight." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Absolutely! The life of a musician leads to a very sparse diet. More than enough room for both of us. Plus we're headed to the same place." 

Geralt had an amused smirk on his face that made Jaskier's heart skip a beat. Conversation between them came easy. Geralt was the quieter of the two but his dry wit and cheesy jokes had him laughing harder than he had in ages. Handsome and funny. 

They made their way back to the apartment complex walking slower than was necessary, he noticed. 

"So you have a daughter? I'm not stalking you or anything, I just noticed her around the complex sometimes."

"Ciri," he replied. "My ex and I share custody, its-" he sighed, running his hand through his hair, "it's a bit of a complicated situation actually. But they’re moving closer soon and that should help.”

The elevator stopped at his floor and he stepped off. 

“So, I’ll be seeing you.” he mentally berated himself for not being able to come up with something more clever. The door was closing between them and he suddenly shot his hound out, stopping the door. 

“Actually, and please forgive me if this is too forward, maybe I could give you my number and we could grab a coffee sometime? Or do our grocery shopping together again?”

Geralt chuckled before reaching into his pocket, tapping at the screen a few times, and passed it over. He added his number with the name Jaskier followed by a heart and music note emoji. The moment the elevator door closed he was dancing, groceries in hand, for his forwardness paying off for once. 

…

It was colder tonight but he still played outside until his fingers were near numbing. His cheeks were flushed red from the cold. After his run-in with the man, he felt like he was walking on clouds. The world was at peace and he was the luckiest man in the world. He’d almost forgotten about his secret admirer completely until the same soft knock came from outside the door. Today was different though. Today he was brave and he had left a note for his admirer to find.

I beg of you to reveal yourself to me. I will be performing at the Royal Oak this Saturday. Please, wear this token so I may recognize you amongst the other patrons. Love, Jaskier

He strained his ears and purposely walked slowly to the door, giving his admirer time to leave the gift and find his note. He swore he heard mumbling of words. He closed his eyes and counted to ten before opening the door. 

His note was gone and in place of it a container he opened to reveal a miniature-sized three-layered cake elaborately decorated with chocolate-covered strawberries. It was, as always, delicious to the point of sin. 

He felt a twinge of guilt. He didn’t want to string along his admirer, especially if things with Geralt turned out well. But he was getting ahead of himself. They had spoken once and here he was already planning their life together. 

…

The next few days passed quickly. His wish of getting more work around the complex had come true but he was, unfortunately, unable to do any more practice for his upcoming performance. Every day he came back to his apartment with every intention of playing only to wake up from an unintentional five-hour nap on his couch. 

To make matters worse, he hadn’t received a single text from Geralt, and since his sleep schedule was completely messed up he hadn’t caught a single glimpse of him since their last accidental meeting. He thought of swinging by his place to invite him to his show but decided against it. Maybe he needed some space? Maybe he had come off as too clingy? The doubts and second-guesses were mounting.

He arrived at the pub early to set up and get some practicing in before going on stage. Geralt wouldn’t be there but at least, he hoped, his soon-not-to-be secret admirer would be. Inside the note, he’d left a silver brooch of a songbird in flight. It was small but something he would instantly recognize. The glimmer of it from the stage lights would catch his attention. At least that’s what he was hoping. He felt more nervous about this performance than he had in a long while.

“You okay there Jaskier?” The voice came from behind him and he turned to see Triss, her curls down, beautifully framing her face. 

“Oh thank the Gods,” he hugged her tight. 

“Where’s your better half?” he asked looking around the growing pub’s crowd. 

“Outside on the phone. It’s her ex, they don’t argue often but when they do,” she made a face. “Something about him needing her to watch their daughter.”

“Doesn’t he only see her on weekends? What an asshole.”

“Right?” 

He felt more at ease with a friendly face by his side and felt even better when Yennifer joined them. He was smarter than to ask her about the phone call and instead chatted about everything and anything to get his mind off his nerves. Time went by more quickly now and soon it was time for him to play. 

The second he stepped on stage his demeanor changed. Gone was any trace of nerves and doubt. The stage was his solace, the place he could bare his soul to the masses, or in this case to the forty-odd people crammed into the pub. 

It was halfway through his third song when he remembered to keep an eye out for his admirer. He scanned the crowd hoping for the familiar glint to catch his eye but there was nothing. He chewed his lip. 

The third song blended into his fourth and fifth. Still nothing. He took a break to grab a drink. He made small talk with Yennifer who raised a delicate brow at him. 

"Alright, spill it. What's got you so distracted?" 

He finished his drink and let his smile fall into a grimace. 

"I left a note. For my admirer. I asked them to come tonight. I left them something to wear so I would recognize them and-" 

"And they did show?" She finished for him. 

"Nope. Wait how did you know?" 

"First off you're terrible at hiding your emotions, and second I was fucking right and you owe me.”

“What?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I guess I’m partially to blame, I should have realized it earlier.”

“I- what?” he asked again. 

“Jaskier. Darling. Sweetheart. I was right.” she said the words slowly as one would do to a small dog. 

“Right about what?”

“Your admirer. It’s your neighbor. You never told me but let me guess. Pale, white hair, roguishly handsome, looks like he could snap you in half like a twig?”

“How do you?” He was feeling a little faint now like he was at the edge of realizing something terrible.

“Your neighbor, your admirer, and my ex are all the same person.”

His eyes went wide. It all made sense. All the clues were there but he had just been too dense to put them all together. He’d seen pictures of Yenifer’s daughter but he’d never spent more than a passing glance at Geralt's visiting daughter. 

“Oh fuck.” he sat down, suddenly unsure of his legs beneath him. 

“He called me right before I came in going on about needing to go out for a few hours and if it was alright with me if he left Ciri alone.” she chuckled. “I told him to not be an asshole and spend time with his daughter.”

Jaskier’s head perked up. Geralt had wanted to come. He hadn’t blown him off. 

“I have to go. Fuck, I can’t leave in the middle of a set though.” 

Yennifer waved him off, “I’ll sort things off here, you go to him.”

He kissed the top of her head and gave her a quick, tight hug. “You would tell me if this bothered you right? I mean, he’s your ex and all.” 

“I think you two would do a very good job at evening each other out, now go!” She smacked him on the shoulder and off he went. 

…

He ran home, or at least halfway home before running out of breath and proceeded to briskly walk the rest of the way. He was still trying to decide what to say when he found himself outside the door, sweating profusely and looking an absolute mess. He knocked on the door before he talked himself out of it. 

“One minute!” A voice from beyond the door answered followed by the sound of an oven door closing and the chain sliding from the door’s lock. 

The door opened. He looked beautiful, even like this, wearing an apron covered in flour cocoa powder. Especially like this maybe. 

“I’m friends with Yennifer and she said it was you but I didn’t believe her and I didn’t realize that your daughter Ciri was also her daughter Cirilla which in retrospect should have clued me in but-” he took a deep breath in. Geralt looked nervous and his rambling wasn’t happening. He started over. 

“You’re my secret admirer?”

The man blushed. “I am. Is that okay?”

“Very, very okay.” He smiled. 

“Would you like to come in? I was just baking. For you.” his blush deepened and Jaskier heart felt like it would burst with affection. 

“I’d like that very much.”

[mamabearcatfanfics]

Dani updates something. The world must be truly coming to an end. Read below or here on AO3

Like most great wars, it was started by something small.

Kagome picked up her laptop from where it had been sitting on the coffee table and carried it into her bedroom, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to invite Inuyasha over for movie and pizza, but when she’d texted him earlier in the day and heard about his crap day at work, she’d extended an impromptu invite. Sango hadn’t minded, and it had been fun, even if he did spend most of the night using her laptop to debunk theories in the spy thriller they’d watched.

When he’d first arrived, he’d been his usual grumpy self, but by the end of the movie, he was in an excellent mood. It was nice to see him happy, although she wasn’t exactly sure what had caused the change in attitude. The pizza had probably helped. She’d never seen anyone consume pizza like Inuyasha could. It worried her sometimes, the types of food he ate, even though he argued that an inuhanyou’s metabolism was very different to a human’s and you couldn’t compare the two.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. If her friend was happy, then so was she. He had such a nice smile, and she tried to do her best to help it come out at every opportunity. They were just friends, she knew that, but his smile was just… it gave her butterflies.

Calling out a sleepy goodnight to Sango, she wandered into her bedroom yawning, wishing she could flop straight onto the bed and close her eyes. But unfortunately, she still had the proposed media releases for the Starlight Foundation’s upcoming fundraiser event to read through before a breakfast meeting tomorrow. She knew if she’d stayed to go over them at work she’d have to walk home from the train station in the dark, so she’d emailed them to her personal laptop before she’d left for the day.

Slipping into her comfy pj’s and snuggling under the covers, she opened up her laptop, then blinked slowly, her head tilting slightly as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing.

Everything was upside down.

Her whole screen was the opposite of how it should look. She exited out of her email program, noting with apprehension that her desktop was also upside down, then opened it up again. Still upside down. Crap! Was this a virus? She’d let the virus protection on her laptop lapse because she’d had to buy a new dress to wear to the fundraising ball, and she’d seen the perfect dress and there’d been a sale, and she had to get the extra money from somewhere. What if it the virus somehow got back to her work computer? Shit, shit, shit!

Quickly googling ‘everything on my computer screen is upside down’, and tilting the screen and her head so she could read the upside down words, she breathed a sigh of relief when she worked out it was an easy fix. Using the Ctrl, Alt and arrow keys she quickly set it to rights, sending up a silent thank you prayer to the IT gods, with a promise that she would update her virus protection asap. She wasn’t sure how her screen had got that way, but right now she was too tired to care.

The next evening, when she sat down with Sango to watch the latest episode of Masterchef, the tv remote refused to work. With their cider going warm and the avocado dip congealing on the cheese platter they’d prepared, they both tried to get the remote to work, giving it a tap and shake to no avail.

After repeated attempts at removing the batteries and rotating them, while Sango went through the junk drawer in the kitchen in a fruitless search for new batteries, Kagome finally noticed the tiny scrap of black tape over the sensor on the remote.

She removed it, and the remote worked again. She looked suspiciously at Sango, narrowing her eyes. She smelled a prank. But Sango loved watching Masterchef as much as she did, and was complaining bitterly about them missing a souffle failure. Masterchef was one of the highlights of their week. Nope, it wasn’t Sango. But someone was definitely having fun at their expense.

Two nights later, when she bit into an Oreo from her secret treat stash in her bedside drawer, and found the sweet creamy filling had been replaced with toothpaste, she knew there was a prank war going on. And as far as she knew, there was only one person who knew about her secret stash, because he’d busted her one night stuffing her face when he’d popped his head in her room to say good night.

Inuyasha.

He’d had time to do all these things on their movie night. He’d used her laptop. He’d had access to the remote. And now that she thought about it, there’d been that suspicious amount of time he’d spent in the bathroom, which neither of them had questioned because he’d muttered a warning about steering clear of the bathroom for a while to give the air a chance to clear. But that would have enabled him access to both the bathroom and her bedroom while her and Sango were engrossed in the movie. No wonder he’d been so cheerful that evening when he left. Inuyasha had pranked her.

But what he didn’t know, was that Kagome was a seasoned campaigner when it came to prank wars. Her and Souta had it down to a fine art, coming up with bigger and better pranks all the time, to the point that one year her mother hand banned them totally, because things were getting out of hand.

The corners of her mouth turned up in a sinister smile, and she let out a chuckle worthy of a cartoon villain. Alright. If he wanted a war, he’d get one.

It was on, like Donkey Kong.

Inuyasha sighed moodily. It wasn’t that he disliked his job necessarily, it was just a job, and it paid the bills, and gave him enough time off to do all the other things he enjoyed doing. But on days like today, when the shop was empty as a tomb, and his phone battery had gone flat, he was ready to expire from boredom. He was just toying with the idea of using a charging cable from the one’s in stock, when a familiar scent drifted across his senses as the shop bell rang.

“How’s my favourite hanyou doing?” Kagome grinned, watching his ears perk up as she walked in.

“I’m fucking bored to tears”, he said, standing up from where he’d been slumped against the counter. He glanced at the clock on the wall, then looked back at her with concern. “Hey. Aren’t you home from work a little early? You’re not sick are ya?”

“No, no, I’m going to work from home this afternoon, seeing I’ve been going into the office so early this week”, Kagome answered breezily. “I just popped in to bring you something.”

“Huh?”

“I tried out a new recipe for chocolate chip cookies, and I know how much you like them, so I saved some for you. That should make your afternoon more interesting.”

Inuyasha sniffed the tupperware container she handed over appreciatively. Kagome was a good cook, and even though the plastic blocked most of the smell, he could tell they would be tasty, because everything Kagome made was delicious. And chocolate chip cookies were his favourites. Fucking sweet!

“Thanks Kagome! You’re the best, you know that?”

His conscience twitched slightly as he thought about the toothpaste oreo’s he’d hidden in her drawer. He’d had a crap day that day, and playing those little pranks on her had cheered him up immensely. He’d often played pranks on his half brother Sesshoumaru back when he’d come to visit Dad during school holidays, to see if he could budge the stick that the older youkai seemed to have permanently wedged up his arse. The oreo trick had been one of his favourites. But here she was baking for him. Maybe she hadn’t found them yet. Perhaps he could replace them with a whole new packet before she ate one, seeing she’d bought him these. He grinned at her.

“You wanna stay and eat some with me Kittycat?”

“I’m afraid I can’t”, Kagome said with a sorrowful expression. “Lots to do. But I’m sure you’ll enjoy them!” With a cheery wave, she walked out of the door.

Inuyasha smiled, looking down at the container in his hands. She’d put a post it note on the lid, with ‘For Inuyasha’ written in curly swoopy cursive. She was a good friend, had fit into his life so completely that he didn’t know what he’d do if she suddenly disappeared. He was so glad he’d helped her that day she’d walked in to the shop with her bad cold.

Taking off the lid and not even pausing to take a sniff, he picked up one of the delectable looking cookies and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth, chewing appreciatively, until a distinctive taste hit his tongue. He nearly spat the contents of his mouth out on the floor, but ended up swallowing the mouthful with distaste, knowing he’d be the one that would have to clean up the mess. Those weren’t chocolate chips…

 Fucking raisins!

The wench knew he hated them. What the fuck? Who would replace innocent chocolate chips with fucking raisins, the worlds most vile dried fruit – that was… was evil!

The post-it note fluttered off the lid, and he noticed a smiley face drawn on the back with some more of Kagome’s swirling cursive.

 ‘That’s payback for the Oreos dog boy!  ❤ K.’

He snorted, about to tip the cookies in the bin, then deciding to put them aside to give to Myoga. The old man had taste in his arse, he’d probably love them, especially if he told him Kagome made them. But Kagome. What was he going to do about sweet little innocent Kagome? It looked like he’d finally found a worthy adversary.

It had been two weeks since she’d given Inuyasha the cookies, and there had been no retaliation. She sniggered, remembering his face when she’d asked him how he’d liked his cookies – the rolled eyes, the huff of irritation. Sweet manna to her soul. But then he hadn’t done anything about it. Frankly Kagome was a little disappointed. It was a shame, because she’d really enjoyed baking the biscuits for him and imagining his face when he bit into one, but she guessed that not everyone liked pranks. The Oreo incident had probably been a one off.

She flicked on the lamp next to the sofa, ready to sit down and enjoy her book and her cocoa with the last of the tiny little marshmallows, and shrieked, slopping the hot liquid down her pyjama shirt. Sango came running.

“Kagome, are you okay?!”

“Cockroach!”, she shrieked, pointing at the lamp, ready to hurl her book at it. The shadow of the insect was clearly visible on the inside of the lamp shade. “Quick Sango, get the bug spray!”

“On it!” Sango hollered, running into the kitchen, clearly ready to unload half the can on the offending interloper. Kagome kept her eye locked on the insect, wanting to be ready in case it flew towards her, holding up her book like a shield. The insect was still. Very still. So still in fact she bravely moved closer to take a better look.

She pulled the cut out picture of a giant cockroach from the inside of the lamp and held it up for Sango’s inspection as she approached with a jumbo sized can of spray. Sango looked incredulously at the paper insect, and then back at Kagome, who was looking at the cut out with a strange expression of glee.

“Inuyasha?” asked Sango hesitantly, unsure exactly what was going on, but making an informed guess.

“Yup!” replied Kagome happily, popping the ‘p’ with relish. Looked like Inuyasha was playing a long game. She could do that.

They were strolling along the High Line, or rather Kagome was strolling, and Inuyasha was following along reluctantly. It was only the promise of beer and a burger at the end of this outing that had made him go along.

“Isn’t it lovely here?”

“Kagome, it’s a bridge. With plants on it. And tourists.”

“But it’s so nice! Isn’t it amazing? All these green things growing in the middle of the city.” She twirled around with her arms out wide, nearly taking out some backpackers, then grabbed his hand, dragging him over to a small garden filled with purple daisies.

“Can we take a selfie here together? Please?” She pulled her phone out of her pocket, and then pouted dramatically. “Aw, I’m all out of battery.”

She looked up at Inuyasha and gave him a sweet smile, and he rolled his eyes, shoving his hand in his jeans pocket to pluck out his phone.

“Fine, use mine”, he drawled, unlocking his phone and handing it over to her. “But don’t go filling it up with cutesy photos, alright?” He didn’t mind really though. Kagome was always taking photos of them together on her phone, and he didn’t have any on his. It might be nice to have at least one of them together.

Kagome smiled up at him, and they did the usual shuffle so they would both fit in the confines of the screen – her standing on tiptoes, and him curving his body downwards.

“Say cheese!”

He grinned automatically, his lopsided smile revealing one fang, his cheek resting on the top of Kagome’s head. She’d told him she was using a new shampoo, one that didn’t smell quite as much, after reading up on different scents that bothered youkai, and he appreciated the fact that she’d done something like that for him. He sighed, breathing in her sweet smell, which blocked out the usual stench of the city.

“Thank you” said Kagome softly, mindful of how close she was to his ears. She kissed his cheek gently, and he couldn’t help the sappy grin that crossed his face. “I’m just gonna message the photo to my phone, okay? That way we’ve both got a copy.”

“Uh sure.”

He straightened up, feeling his heart beating a little faster for some reason. He obviously needed to get to the gym more often if walking along a bridge and dodging tourists got his heart rate up.

She handed him back his phone and then tugged on his hand. He slipped his phone back into his pocket.

“C’mon! I promised I’d buy you a beer and a burger. There’s a pub just under the bridge that’s meant to be awesome. I was reading reviews about it last night.”

He smiled fondly at her, taking in her wide grin and the spring sunshine bouncing off her dark hair. Such a bubbly person. He honestly didn’t know what Kagome saw in him. But he was very glad that she liked hanging out.

He had such a fun afternoon talking, laughing, eating, then walking her back to her apartment, that he realised he’d never looked at the photo she’d taken. He pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, then snorted when he looked at his screen. He didn’t know how she’d done it, but somehow, she’d changed every single app icon to different pictures of kittens. Nice one. His lips curled into a smile, already planning on what he could do to get her back.

He flicked open his photo app and stared at the photo of them together, standing in the sunlight surrounded by purple daisies in the middle of a bustling city, the wind blowing their hair so the white and black intermingled. He saved it as his lock screen.

Kagome hated dusting. But she loved knick nacks, so dusting was a necessity. She just couldn’t bear to throw things away, and kept all sorts of little mementoes that wouldn’t mean anything to other people, but meant a lot to her. Spraying a little bit more polish on the rag, she ran it over the shelves of the bookcase in the hallway, picking up a photo frame absentmindedly so she could dust underneath. And then she double blinked.

Taking a closer look at the photo, she snorted with laughter. It was a photo of the four of them, one someone had taken when they’d won the pub trivia championship.

She didn’t know how he’d done it, or when, but somehow Inuyasha had used a photo editing program to replace all their faces, hers, Sango’s, Miroku’s and his own, with the features of Nicholas Cage. Not entirely original, but funny all the same.

She turned the frame over to find the original photo stuck to the back. Miroku had his arm carelessly around Sango’s shoulders and Sango was blushing – no doubt Miroku had just whispered something perverted in her ear.

She was standing next to Sango, and Inuyasha was standing directly behind her, bending down so his chin rested on the top of her head. It made her smile, the way he draped himself on her for photos – it was often the only way they both fit, because he was so much taller than her.

He was so amazing, he took her breath away sometimes, just like he had that first time in the store. It was like he didn’t know how beautiful he was. She turned the photo around again, giggling at how ridiculous they all looked. She had to hand it to him, that was tricky. Time to up her game.

Inuyasha was pulling his boots on when there was a knock on his front door, but it was expected. He’d ordered a box of Krispy Kreme’s to bring to Miroku’s regular card night, and it had arrived right on time. Salted Double Caramel Crunch. He always ordered a box, knowing the girls liked them, and having a not so secret love of them himself. Kagome was always at him to eat healthier, worried about all the salty and sugary foods he enjoyed eating, but he was half youkai – his metabolism could handle nearly anything.

Carrying the box carefully, he walked the two blocks to Miroku’s house, a tiny bit late because he’d had to wait for the delivery, but it wasn’t like anyone would care. They were already there, Miroku shuffling the cards, Sango sipping a beer, and Kagome sitting on the sofa, her eyes lighting up when he walked in the door. Sometimes she was so fucking cute, he couldn’t stand it.

He plonked the box down on the centre of the table, and walked across to Miroku’s fridge, opening the door to snag himself a beer.

Sango opened the box eagerly, and then laughed uproariously.

“Are you on a health kick Inuyasha?” she sniggered.

“Huh?”

Opening up the sides of the box, she revealed carrot, celery and cucumber sticks, along with a plastic container of hummus.

“What the fuck?!”

Kagome came to stand behind him. “Oh, good boy! You finally listened to me about eating healthier foods. You’re gonna feel so much better!” she said, patting him on the shoulder.

Inuyasha turned his head, raising an eyebrow.

“Really Kagome? Kidnapping innocent donuts?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”, Kagome said, her expression all wide eyed and innocent. “Bu-ut if you wanted a donut as a little treat for being a good boy, after you’ve eaten some healthy veggies of course, there’s a plate of Salted Double Caramel Crunch ones in the kitchen. I know they’re your favourites.”

Kagome was tired. So tired. It had been a hectic week at work in the lead up to the fundraising ball, and all she wanted to do was curl up on the sofa with a nice cup of sleepy tea before heading off to bed. She opened the cupboard to reach in for her favourite mug, but her hand clutched on empty air.

Huffing impatiently, she stood up on tiptoe, unable to quite see onto the shelf. Sango was taller than her, and sometimes she pushed the mugs back too far in the cupboard for her to reach. But her hand still grasped at nothing. Were they all in the dishwasher?

She opened up the dishwasher, but it was empty. Sighing impatiently, she went into the hall cupboard to fetch the little step stool she used to reach the higher shelves, but it wasn’t there. Or in the bathroom.

Smelling a rat, or rather a dog, she walked slowly back into the kitchen, her eyes roving around for anything amiss. And then she noticed them. Every single mug, cup and glass was placed on top of the cupboards, way out of her reach. Kagome frowned.

This… this one hurt a little. Inuyasha knew she was sensitive about her height. At 5’2” she was the shortest person in her family, with even Souta towering over her now, and her height was a family joke.

When they first met, Inuyasha used to tease her about it all the time too, but he didn’t any more, knowing that it upset her. The only thing that had stuck was her nickname, Kittycat, which she didn’t mind so much, she kind of liked the way he said it. But…

She sighed, climbing up onto the bench top and balancing on her tippy toes, one arm stretched up to reach for a mug, the other windmilling frantically as she almost lost her balance. This game. It didn’t feel quite as much fun anymore.

Inuyasha sipped his beer silently, sitting alone in their regular booth at the pub. Miroku had tried to engage him in conversation, but had eventually given up when every answer was a surly one syllable reply, and had gone over to the pool table to join a game.

They were waiting for the girls to arrive for their regular pub trivia night, but his heart wasn’t really in it tonight. He was annoyed at Kagome. She’d called him a ‘good boy’. Offered him a treat, like a dog. In front of other people. And it rankled, especially since she was usually the one who would defend him when others poked fun at his ears or his inuyoukai heritage. Somehow it hurt ten times worse coming from her, because it was unexpected. She did call him dog boy sometimes, but that hit different, because it was a nickname, a term of endearment. Being called a ‘good boy’ felt derogatory.

Maybe it had been petty, putting all the things up out of her reach, especially when he knew she was sensitive about her height, but he’d felt like being fucking petty. This game they were playing wasn’t as much fun as it had been.

His ear twitched as he heard the raised voices of Sango and Kagome over the general noise. Sango was disagreeing with her over something, asking her if it really was a good idea, and Kagome was shushing her, moving through the crowd towards them. She seemed a little off balance somehow, like she was walking differently, leaning slightly to one side.

As soon as he got closer he saw why. Her arm was in a sling.

The mugs. The fucking mugs. He’d put them all up out of her reach and hidden her step ladder under her bed. And of course because she was the clumsiest woman on this side of the planet, she’d managed to hurt herself. And it was all his fault. Fucking shit. He was the worst person alive.

Gulping, he pushed himself out of the booth, moving over towards them. Sango was still glowering at her, probably telling her it was a bad idea to be out at a pub when she was injured. And she was right. Maybe he should take her home. He couldn’t see a cast, so maybe her arm wasn’t broken. But even if it was just sprained, that was bad enough, because he knew it was coming up to the busiest time of year for her at work.

When he got closer, Sango greeted him shortly and then moved off to find Miroku. She obviously was angry at him, because she should be. Because he was a shit friend, who’d done something to someone who he cared about very much.

“Kagome…”

“Hey Inuyasha”, she said, looking downwards, her voice dejected, her arm cradled against her side carefully in the sling. “How are you?”

Unable to stop himself, he wrapped his arms around her carefully, like she was made of glass, avoiding her injured arm. She was so tiny, so fragile. So breakable.

“Kittycat, I’m so sorry. I just didn’t think.” He stroked her hair gently, running his clawed fingers through her dark curls. “Does it hurt too much? Have you had it x-rayed? If you want, I can take tomorrow off and take you to out patients. What ever you need, okay? I’m such a shit, I can’t believe I-“

Kagome cleared her throat. “Inuyasha?”

“Do you need to sit down?”

“No, I’m fine. I’m okay, really.” He watched as she pulled her arm out of the sling, and he flinched, his own hands moving reflexively, ready to steady her. “I really am fine. I almost fell, but then I didn’t. I didn’t get hurt. This is just to… to prank…um, gotcha?” she gulped as the concerned expression on Inuyasha’s face turned to ire.

He blinked at her, stony faced, then marched out of the pub, uncaring about Kagome calling after him.

He marched down the street, anger fueling his long strides, uncaring that Kagome’s voice was getting further and further away. He could hear her running to try and keep up, and he was bitterly amused about her tiny little human legs not being long or strong enough, until he heard her misstep and almost fall. Fuck. If she really did fall, which was totally a possibility because she was the biggest klutz on both sides of the planet…

He turned and marched back towards her, then waited, his arms crossed. She ran up to him, panting, leaning over to catch her breath.

“That wasn’t fucking funny Kagome.”

“I’m sorry”, she gasped. “I should have listened to Sango. She said it was too much. I was just annoyed about you putting everything up so high. And when I almost fell it gave me the idea.” She sighed. “But you’re right, it wasn’t funny.”

“Damn right it wasn’t!” he snarled. “I thought you were injured, and you know I’d never do anything to deliberately hurt you. Between this and the ‘good dog’ comment, I’m fucking-“

“What! I’d never-“

“It was implied. I was a ‘good boy’, who could have a ‘treat’? And then I suppose when you faked an injury you thought the good dog would whine about it and look after you? What did you do, read up on Inu youkai protective instincts or something? I bet you had a good laugh about it, huh?” He huffed out a heavy breath. “I don’t like this game we're playing anymore Kagome.”

“Inuyasha, I never meant it that way. I was teasing, but I’d never…” She was openly crying now, hugging her arms around herself. “Please, I’m so sorry. Please.”

She looked so pitiful that he relented, wrapping his arm around her shaking shoulders.

“I’m still annoyed Kagome”, he sighed. “But it’ll be okay so stop crying. No more pranks, okay?”

“No more”, she sobbed, pushing her face into his side. “I promise.”

Seeing a bench close by, he tugged her hand over to sit down beside him, patting her on the shoulder as she continued to cry.

“Hey c’mon now. Stop crying. I said it would be okay.”

“I really am sorry”, she sniffled. “I guess I don’t know when to stop. Maybe that was why Mama banned me and Souta from pranking each other.”

“You used to prank your brother? Hey, me too.” He rubbed her shoulder as she leaned into him. “Not all of them were bad. Look see, I still got kittens on my phone.” Kagome smiled, her cheeks wet with tears, and pulled out her own phone.

"Look, our lock screens match", she said softly, showing him the photo of them both standing in the sunshine surrounded by purple daisies. She wiped away her tears, taking a deep breath.

“I put the Nicholas Cage trivia team photo on the fridge so Sango and I can see it all the time”, she said shyly. “It makes me laugh. Are you gonna tell me how you did it?”

“Nope, I’ll take my secrets to the grave”, he grinned, then sighed. She still smelt like guilt and sadness. “C’mon Kagome. Cheer up.”

“Inuyasha, please believe me when I say that when I said ‘good boy’ I didn’t mean it the way you thought I did”, she hiccuped, looking at him intently. “I promise. I just didn’t think. I promise I won’t call you that again. And if I ever say anything that hurts your feelings like that, please tell me.”

“Okay. And I promise I won’t hide your things up high again. That was kinda mean too.”

“Okay. Are we good now?”

“We’re good.”

Kagome reached out her arms and hugged him around the waist. “Good. Because I hate fighting with you.”

He squeezed her back affectionately, then pulled her to her feet. “You ready to go kick some trivia butt Kittycat?”

“You bet.”

"Oh, and you need to make some more raisin cookies for Myoga. The old coot hasn't stopped raving about them."

[malikmata]

Notes from a Brown Boy - Kansas Diaries

*Author’s Note: Some people’s names have been changed to protect their identities

The rain was the first thing to greet me when I landed in Wichita. Overhead the gray clouds loomed, shadowing the farmland that yawned in the distance. Distance. At first glance, the city seemed like one long stretch of prairies and cracked parking lots, occasionally punctuated by billboards of grinning injury lawyers and lit up restaurant road signs.

If you spend enough time here amid the crumbling old buildings, watching the weeds sway in the vacant lots, you’ll feel the slow, inevitable creep of dread or something like it.

It’s easy to feel lonely here.

But, if you’re receptive enough, you’ll run into many friendly folks. Sometimes too friendly.

For example: During my first week, I went to Freddy’s, a local fast food chain, and ordered a crispy chicken sandwich with fries. The cashier, a young woman with glasses and short blonde hair, suddenly started confessing her fear that her 8-year old chihuahua wouldn’t live a long life.

“I still think of him as a teenager,” she said.

“Don’t worry,” I said. “He’s a chihuahua. They live long lives.”

Out here, in the most middle-of-the-road cities, you sometimes get a chance to show an act of passing kindness. While waiting in line at one of the hip, new cafes downtown, a place called Milkfloat, a tall elderly gentleman recommended which coffee and pastry to get.

“My wife says this place has the best cold brew in town.” Afterwards, grabbing his pastry and coffee, he wished me a good day. Most folks here always do and you better hope it comes true. Because here, like elsewhere, a day is filled with ordinary heartbreaks.

I will simply call her “Tita.” She works as a tailor at a department store, the only tailor working there, hemming and tapering racks full of suit pants under fluorescent lights. The nature of the job requires exact measurements and a keen eye for detail. She works hard, often skips lunch, and comes home dead tired. Her husband is recovering from 4 broken ribs after a car repair job went awry. Nothing can be done but wait until he gets better.

They live in a languid suburb on Wichita’s east side, a street with few sidewalks but plenty of lawn.

And noise. Plenty of noise. The neighborhood sits next to a car dealership. The skies overhead rumble continuously with airplanes and thunderstorms. Dogs bark at anyone who gets too close. A pickup truck blasts a corny country song as the cicadas and frogs belt out their lonely mating calls. Occasionally, a child’s laughter rises above it all.

Gossip is one of the great pastimes in towns like these. Even if you shut yourself up in your home, stories trickle in.

The neighbor across the street shot himself in the head.

The elderly couple that used to live next door got committed to a nursing home.

A fellow around the corner is on his third attempt to grow weed.

A college student starves himself morning to night so that he can save money for college.

Down the street, a kid lifts weights and punches the heavy bag hanging on his front porch.

Here, dumb luck seems, more so than in the big cities, the providence of God.

A man told me he got a job installing new carpets at a friend’s house. He was in desperate need of money, having sent most of it to his mother back home, who proceeded to gamble it away. When he ripped out the old carpet, he found a bundle of $10,000 dollars just lying there. His co-worker said, “We should split it.”

“No, no, we can’t take it.” the man said. He gave the money to his friend.

Sometime later, he went to the casino and couldn’t stop winning jackpot after jackpot. He brought home close to $16,000 in one night.

“So, if you do something good,” he told me, “God will remember that.”

Many people have come to live and die here, all of them wrapped up in the melancholic churning of faded ambitions and familial obligations.

Some people here have found something that returns them to the placidity they once felt in their youth. Sometimes that’s enough to keep them going.

For example:

I met Phil Uhlik, the namesake of the music store on E Douglas. He heard me playing an old Martin acoustic in one of the rooms. He shuffled in slightly hunched over, wearing a blue paisley shirt and brown shorts. He looked at the sunburst guitar in my hands and said, “It’s got a little beauty mark there.” He pointed to a small nick just above the sound hole. “All girls have beauty marks.” He pointed to his cheeks and smiled.

Uhlik started this music store 51 years ago and enjoys every moment of it.

“When you go to work for Boeing, that’s work,” he said. “But this, it doesn’t feel like work.” He motioned to the instruments all around him.

“How’d you get started?” I asked.

“I started off playing one of these,” he said, taking one of the accordions off a nearby shelf. As he strapped it on, all the years seemed to disappear. With a big crooked-teeth grin, he breathed life into the old accordion, his hands dancing up and down the keys. The smile never left his face as we bid farewell to each other.

I wish everyone in this world were as lucky as Phil.

I’m always seeking indie bookstores when I travel. Eighth Day Books provides much needed shelter from the summer heat. The shop was built 33 years ago and used to be located about half a mile east, in Clifton Square Village. About 17 years ago they moved to their current location, a 1920 Dutch-style colonial house on the corner of E Douglas and N Erie. Its blue trimmed windows peek through the foliage of neighboring trees.

When you walk in, you’ll see shelves of books on Christianity and Theological studies, most notably in the Eastern Orthodox tradition. I’ve never seen a bookshop with a section dedicated to Iconography.

Wichita, despite its size, feels like a small place. And with that cramped spaciousness, you’re likely to run into someone you may remember or who may remember you. Here I ran into my girlfriend’s 8th grade English teacher. A bald, bespectacled man with a gentle demeanor. After a bit of catching up, he said to us with a smile, “I hope all your dreams come true.”

The short story writer, Raymond Carver, once wrote: “Dreams… are what you wake up from.”

Wichita is a land that hypnotizes you; it makes you dream, dream of something beyond the miles of strip malls and airplane factories, beyond the shocks of wheat and windswept plains, beyond the doldrums and ennui. But it also shakes you awake, reminds you that you’re in it, that you better stop dreaming.

I’m not the religious sort anymore, having survived the regime laid down by my Catholic parents. But there is something enthralling, maybe even inspirational, when I look at the rows of beautifully painted portraits of saints and martyrs. Such solemn faces surrounded by golden halos. According to the Eastern Orthodox tradition, such paintings transcend art; they’re supposed to be windows through which you can glimpse the divine. They remind me of my grandparents with their judging eyes and moral seriousness.

My book haul for the day:

Snow Country by Yasunari Kawabata

The Diary of Anne Frank

Earthly Signs: Moscow Diaries by Marina Tsvetaeva

Near to the Wild Heart by Clarice Lispector

In that last book, I found this lovely little passage:

…”in the Revolution, as always, the weight of everyday life falls on women: previously--in sheaves, now in sacks. Everyday life is a sack with holes. And you carry it anyway.”

From Earthly Signs, P. 40

According to the 2019 United States census bureau, 15.9% of Wichita's population lives below the poverty line. That’s higher than the state average, which hovers around 11.4%. That’s not the lowest nor is it the highest in the country. As befitting its location, Kansas is right in the middle.

The minimum wage in Kansas is still $7.25 despite efforts to increase it to $15. When Covid-19 hit, city and service workers bore the brunt of the impact. You can keep all your empty slogans like  “We Love Our Frontline Workers.” Congratulate me all you want for my hard work but where’s my pay?

When you see that business here has returned to normal--people freely walking around without masks, no longer socially distancing--it still feels all too strange; we spent an entire year under lockdown. There’s still a pandemic by the way.

Loved ones fell ill, died alone, hooked up to ventilators in closed off hospital rooms. I believe every interaction now carries the weight of all those deaths. My family, like so many others, didn’t escape unscathed from the pandemic. My grandpa, Amang, caught Covid. Since he was an elderly citizen (and suffering from emphysema to boot), he was among those considered most at risk. We all feared the worst. Somehow he survived. The doctors called him a “trailblazer.”

Now, with businesses back to 100% capacity, I’m afraid that, just like the 1918 Flu epidemic, the past will fade like a nightmare upon waking. But it was so much more than that; it was an avoidable tragedy.

If you want to know what this pandemic has done to people and their livelihoods, is still doing to them, take a ride through downtown.

Things were already going bad before Covid hit. Back in 2004, the writer Thomas Frank wrote,

“There were so many closed shops in Wichita… that you could drive for blocks without ever leaving their empty parking lots, running parallel to the city streets past the shut-down sporting goods stores and toy stores and farm implement stores.”

What’s the Matter with Kansas: How Conservatives Won the Heart of America, P. 75

What led to all this blight? Frank attributes the decline to:

“the conservatives’ beloved free market capitalism, a system that, at its most unrestrained, has little use for smalltown merchants or the agricultural system that supported the small towns in the first place.”

-P. 79

The same story happens in a lot of places. A megacorporation keeps eating everything around it and leaves nothing else at the table.

The people are left hurting, a pit in their stomachs, and some asshole somewhere profits off of it.

While at the DMV, I overheard this:

“You have a good day now,” the security guard said.

“I’ll try my best,” a woman said.

My girlfriend heard them too and laughed.

“You really do have to try your best in order to have a good day here.”

At some point, we hit the town with a couple friends: Monica, and her boyfriend Will. Both are musicians trying to carve out their niche in a place that, on the surface, seems apathetic to creative pursuits.

It’s impossible to not be captured by their energy. As soon as we walk into their house, Monica, with her dark blonde hair draped over her shoulders, reached in for a hug. Will, a tall and bearded fellow with a bear-like presence, also went in for the hug.

“Ready to experience some Wichita nightlife?” Monica asked.

What is the nightlife here like? A group of high school punks wanted to fight us over a couple movie theater seats. Bored kids play rounds of “Chinese Fire Drill” at stop lights. I heard a nazi biker gang rolled into town at some point during my stay. Regular things like that.

At a low-key bar downtown called Luckys, I met a guy named Cory. He told me how he met a 15 year old kid loitering here, looking lost and forlorn.

“I don’t know what kind of advice I can give you but I’ll do the best I can,” Cory said.

This is the spirit I’ve often come across during my stay: A sort of slightly intrusive compassion. For a cynical Californian like me, the behavior seems a little strange, maybe even a little annoying. But I’ve come to appreciate the candor of it.

“Guaranteed we’ll know half the people here,” Will said.

Right away, he shook hands with the bartender—a high school friend of his—and asked him how his band was doing. Afterwards, we sat down and talked. Talking, after a year of pandemic lockdown, has become a lost art to me. But a little alcohol loosened the lips and suddenly I talked as though I’d known these people my whole life.

Will sipped his whisky on the rocks and told me:

“If everything in this world is meant to break down eventually, then any act of creation becomes an act of defiance.”

It may sound naive but to me, it’s true. I think about the words of the writer, John Berger:

Compassion defies the laws of necessity. To forget yourself and identify with a stranger has a power that defies the supposed natural order of things.

--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 179

Making art has to be, in some way, a compassion act, because it involves letting the environment and the people you meet speak for themselves, allowing a collaboration.

“When a painting is lifeless it is the result of the painter not having the nerve to get close enough for a collaboration to start… Every authentic painting demonstrates a collaboration.”

--The Shape of a Pocket, P. 16

You need to open yourself up, feel what someone is saying behind their words, and hopefully, feel what they feel.

Art, like Compassion, is defiant.

Among the 4 or so Asian markets here, you can find all the ingredients you need to cook up something good. During my first week, I stopped at a place called Grace Market. Like a lot of small Asian markets, it’s family run. A father from Taiwan. A mother from Korea. The son usually helps out when he can. Today (June 23), On this warm Wednesday morning, the son is manning the cash register.

“You’re from California? I’m from there too,” he said.

“Where at?” I asked.

“Sacramento. How about you? So Cal?”

“Nah, Bay Area.”

“Funny. That’s where my parents met.”

“Small world.”

On a different day, we met the father, a jovial man who never fails to say hi when you walk in. He came here over a couple decades ago from California, doing work for the US Army in Garden City. Once his service was over, he decided to stay in Kansas.

“I think you know why,” he said.

More and more young folks these days are leaving California. The high cost of living is presumably what’s driving this exodus. I told him I was also thinking of leaving the Golden State, as much as I love the place.

“Well, a town like this has a lot of potential if you want to save money,” he said. “If I tried to start this business in California, I don’t think I could’ve done it.”

The summer heat can, with the suddenness of a lightning flash, give way to thunderous storms. Speaking as someone from California, whose home has gone through excruciating periods of drought and wildfire, these nightly downpours are a startling yet relaxing sight.

The distant boom of thunder in the distance reminds you of how much of our lives depend on the weather, how small we are in comparison, how we are never separate from the goings-on of nature. The rain doesn’t come down lightly here. At night, it smacks and drums against the window pane with all the force of an animal trying to get inside.

But I don’t find myself frightened by it so much as awed by the combined power of wind and rain colliding against our rickety old house.

Kansas lies in the Great Plains, where layers of cool and warm air often combine into a low-level jet stream. Unimpeded by any natural obstacles on the wide flat plains, the wind roars across the expanse. Thunder growls over the prairie. And lightning flashes on the horizon in a fearsome red tinge.

The storm rages throughout the night, the only source of light in an ocean-sized plain.

“In general, the gods of the Wichita are spoken of as "dreams," and they are divided into four groups: Dreams-that-are-Above (Itskasanakatadiwaha), or, as the Skidi would say, the heavenly gods; and (2) Dreams-down-Here (Howwitsnetskasade), which, according to the Skidi terminology, are the earthly gods. The latter "dreams" in turn are divided into two groups: Dreams-living-in-Water (Itska-sanidwaha), and the Dreams-closest-to-Man (Tedetskasade)”

From The Mythology of the Wichita, P. 33

If you go downtown, you’ll see a sculpture called “The Keeper of the Plains.”

It’s almost 9 o’ clock when I get there, so large crowds have gathered to watch the ring of fire lit around its perimeter.

The statue was designed by indigenous artist and craftsman, Blackbear Bosin. Born in Cyril, Oklahoma, but living much of his adult life in Wichita, Kansas, Bosin was of Comanche and Kiowa descent and almost entirely self-taught as an artist.

When you come upon the Keeper of the Plains, standing tall on the fork of the Arkansas and Little Arkansas Rivers, you can’t help but feel a mix of admiration and sadness. It’s a striking statue, especially when set against the beautiful orange and lavender hues of the setting sun. But monuments like these end up reminding you of the Wichita peoples who were killed, displaced, driven from their land, and left to die in reservations, forgotten. The tribes that once lived here along the southern plains still show traces of their culture but now, you’ll see it mostly as a memory in a museum or as art hanging on the walls of a library.

I learned from a video by the Wichita Eagle that the last speaker of the Wichita language, Doris Jean Lamar, died back in 2016. It must be indescribably lonely to be the last speaker of a language. There is no one to have a conversation with, no one to whom you can confess your hopes or your regrets. But in the video, Lamar, even knowing that she is the last speaker, expresses hope that future generations will know what the language sounded like.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ScPkN_xGRI

Is forgiveness even possible when injustices are still committed today against native peoples everywhere?

Not enough can be said about the skies here, which seem at times so brilliantly marbled with peach and lavender colors that you begin to walk with your head perpetually craned upwards.

It’s this aspect, the overwhelming sense of the sublime, that will probably stay with me long after I’ve left Kansas.

I think again about the nature of dreams. It isn’t such a sin to dream about things, about things that haven’t happened yet, and about things that have happened. To quit dreaming seems too cynical, like admitting from the outset that everything is screwed, that you should stop trying.

During my stay here, I’ve met many people who aren’t so irony poisoned yet, people who are achingly sincere and kind. They haven’t stopped trying. There isn’t much room for cynicism here. I appreciate that a lot.

Farewell to you, Kansas, you and your clumps of cumulus and vast fields of cows and grass. I’ll see you again.

Check out Will’s music! It’s gloomy, melancholy, and LOUD!: https://teamtremolo.bandcamp.com/album/intruder

[roseworth]

All Was Golden in the Sky

Description: Flynn Rider was 13 the first time he saw the lanterns. They were everything he thought they would be and more. What he didn't expect was for them to change his outlook on life. (Title inspired by "When the Day Met the Night" by P!ATD)

Word count: 2322

Relationships: Lance & Eugene, Rapunzel/Eugene

AO3

Flynn was 13 the first time he went to Corona.

He was excited to finally go somewhere where no one knew him as Eugene. In Vardaros, there were plenty of people that still thought of him as “poor orphan Eugene.” He hated it. He didn’t want to be known as an orphan, he wanted to be known as a legend.

That’s why he liked going by Flynn Rider. Flynn Rider was rich and famous, Eugene Fitzherbert was neither of those things.

He and Lance had just left the orphanage a few days ago. He planned on going back eventually, he just wanted to see more of the world than an orphanage. He also figured that they could get some nice things in Corona. They had heard about some big festival happening, and when they found out it was only a few days away, they decided to sneak out and go.

They were immediately met with crowds of people. Flynn had never seen so many people in one place. Might make it easier to take some things off their hands, he thought. If people were bustling around, there was no way they would notice a few dollars gone from their pocket. Lance and Flynn had done a little bit of thieving before, just some pickpocketing here and there, but Flynn wondered what it would be like to take something big. It’s not like any of those rich people would miss it.

Lance nudged him out of his thoughts and pointed to a shop across the street. Flynn squinted at the sign. “A Sweet Shoppe?”

Lance nodded. “Come on, when was the last time we had something good?” he said, walking towards the shop.

Flynn started following. “So what’s the plan?” he asked. Lance shrugged.

“I guess we’ll just take it and run,” he answered.

Flynn sighed. “We’ve been in this kingdom for 5 minutes, we don’t need the guards on our trail already.”

“Well, do you have a better plan?"

He hesitated, trying to think of something. “What if you distracted the owner while I took the candy?”

“See, now we have a plan! That’s called teamwork.”

“What? But I made the plan!”

“Yeah, and I was the one that decided to go to the Sweet Shoppe. So it was a team effort.”

Flynn rolled his eyes. They made it to the door and walked in, and he immediately felt out of place. Most of the other kids here were dressed in nice clothes (well, nice compared to the rags that the two of them were wearing). The kids there all had their parents with them, too. He watched as a kid tugged on her mom’s hand as they looked at the chocolate sculptures on display. His stomach flipped a bit watching these kids interact with their parents, but Lance was focused on the food.

He was ready to put the plan into action before the owner came up to both of them. “How do you boys do?” he asked. “I don’t think I’ve seen you here before. I’m Monty, but most people call me Uncle Monty.”

Flynn started to smile. He started to feel bad that he was planning on stealing from this man. He seemed to be nice, and he wasn’t trying to kick them out. That’s when he came up with a new plan. He glanced at Lance, who seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Hi, Uncle Monty. My name’s Lance, this is Flynn. We came all the way from Vardaros for this festival.”

“We’re from the orphanage,” Flynn added, hoping to score some sympathy points.

“And we just really wanted some candy… because we’ve never had any before,” Lance sighed dramatically. That was mostly a lie, they had had candy before, but only on rare occasions.

However, it seemed to be working on Uncle Monty. “Well, gosh, I’ve got plenty of candy here, just take your pick!” he exclaimed.

Flynn did his best to make his eyes tear up. “But we don’t have any money…” he said sadly.

“No problem, it’s on the house!” he told them. “Everyone could use a little sweetness in their life.” Lance and Flynn smiled at each other and thanked Monty as they went to grab some lollipops. Then, they sat down near the cash register to continue talking to Uncle Monty.

“So what’s this festival for?” Flynn asked. “I know there’s something with the lanterns and the princess, but what does she need the lanterns for?”

“Oh, see, the princess was taken from her family as a baby, and now the king and queen send lanterns into the sky so she can see them and return someday,” Monty explained.

“Do you think she’ll see them?” Lance asked.

Monty shrugged. “We can only hope.”

Lance and Monty soon changed the subject, but Flynn couldn’t stop thinking about the lost princess. For all anyone knew, she could be dead, but they still threw this party to try to find her. He wondered why anyone would want to steal a baby in the first place, and he wondered what you would do with a stolen baby.

What was so great about a stolen baby anyways? If the kidnapper wanted a baby they could have just gone to the orphanage, there are plenty of kids there. What makes a princess baby better than any other baby, especially if the baby doesn’t even know she’s a princess?

He thought about Flynnagan Rider. In one of the books at the orphanage, Rider saves a princess from a fire breathing dragon, and the whole kingdom rejoices. The princess even offered Rider gold, but he said no because he just did it to save her.

Flynn wondered if he could do the same. Maybe he would find this princess and save her from whatever lizard monster or witch that trapped her, and the whole kingdom would regard him as a legend just like Flynnagan Rider (though if they offered him gold he wouldn’t turn it down like Flynnagan did).

He shook his head at himself. He couldn’t get his hopes up. The princess was probably far away by now, and everyone only knew her as a baby. He didn’t know how long she had been gone, but she definitely didn’t look like a baby anymore. If she didn’t know she was the lost princess, no one would.

“Flynn?” Lance said snapping him out of his thoughts. “You’ve been quiet for a while, that’s not like you,” he joked. “Whatcha thinkin’ about?”

Flynn smiled and shrugged. “Just enjoying this lollipop.”

Flynn and Lance spent the rest of the day talking to Uncle Monty. Monty looked out the window as it started getting darker. “You boys better get going if you want to get a good view of the lanterns. You never forget the first time you see something like that.” The boys thanked Monty for the candy, then were on their way to find a good spot, preferably in a large crowd. They planned to make some money off of this trip too. Just like they had done during the Empyrean Showers, they would wait until the lanterns were in the sky and do a bit of pickpocketing while everyone was distracted.

Suddenly, he looked up and saw a lantern in the sky. As soon as he saw that one, lanterns started raising all around him. “Wow,” he said. Lance was looking up too. The sky was entirely lit up with these lanterns. It looked amazing.

His mind wandered back to the princess. The king and queen were willing to do all of this for their daughter because of how much they cared about her. The people of Corona sent out hundreds of these lanterns into the sky because they all cared about this baby that they hadn’t seen in years.

It made him think about his parents. He had always thought of them as rogues like he wanted to be, and that they would come back to the orphanage soon enough. But seeing this made him think that wasn’t meant to happen. The king and queen worked so hard to find their daughter, and his parents had left him at an orphanage.

His parents didn’t really love him. He hadn’t exactly made himself hard to find, that’s why he always came back to the orphanage. He was ready for his parents to come back to get him at any moment, but seeing how much effort the princess’s parents put into finding her, he realized that his parents didn’t care.

His eyes started to well up with tears, but he quickly blinked them away. He’s Flynn Rider, Flynn Rider doesn’t need anyone. All he needed was money and fame. Flynn Rider, legendary thief. He liked the sound of that. And once he stole enough that he didn’t need to steal anymore? He would get himself an island all alone. He still wouldn’t need anyone, he’d have his own island. With lots of money. And maybe girls.

He and Lance had both gotten distracted by the lights and didn’t do any pickpocketing, but Flynn was thinking past pickpocketing now. No orphan pickpocket was ever thought of as a legend. “Hey Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“What would you say if we didn’t go back to the orphanage? And started stealing more instead?”

Lance grinned. “I would be on board. Lance and Flynn, legendary crime duo, right?"

Flynn nodded and grinned back. But he and Lance wouldn’t be a duo forever, Flynn Rider didn’t need anyone else. Every man for himself, he thought.

**

“What are you thinking about?” Rapunzel questioned, slightly nudging his side. Eugene had been silently staring at the lanterns for a while. They were sitting in their boat as the lights floated in the sky, his arm around her as her head rested on his shoulder. Eugene turned to her and smiled. “Just thinking about the first time I saw these lanterns.”

“When was that?”

“I think about 15 years ago. It was the first time Lance and I went to Corona. It was… bittersweet.”

“Why bittersweet?”

He sighed. “It was the first time I think I truly understood my parents weren’t coming back for me. I saw what your parents were willing to do to find you, and I realized that my parents weren’t even looking for me.”

“Eugene…” she said softly, grabbing his hand.

“It’s alright, though, that’s when the “sweet” part of bittersweet comes in. Because of that, I realized that I wasn’t gaining anything waiting around at that orphanage, so that’s when Lance and I decided to go out on our own and start living life,” he said. “If that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have met you. Plus, meeting you did end up leading me to meet my dad, so it all worked out in the end.”

Rapunzel frowned. “I still don’t like the thought of little Eugene giving up all the hope he had, even if it did lead to us meeting. I would live in that tower for the rest of my life if it meant you could live a happy life.” He gave her a small smile.

“Sunshine, I’m the happiest anyone could ever be because you’re not living the rest of your life in that tower.”

She leaned further into him and smiled, but she couldn’t get over the fact that Eugene stopped dreaming because of a lantern ceremony thrown for her. But it didn’t matter what happened in the past. They couldn’t change it, they could only love each other in the present. They were there, and they were together watching these lanterns for the fifth time in a row.

“You know, we’ve probably been watching these lanterns together for years without knowing it,” Rapunzel thought out loud.

Eugene looked at her. “What do you mean?”

“You said you were watching these lanterns 15 years ago, I was at my window watching them too. We were watching the same lanterns for years before we met.”

He laughed. “Well, when you put it that way, maybe we really were meant to be. Along with the hundreds of other people watching, too,” he teased.

She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean,” she retorted with a smile.

“What’s even better is when I first heard what happened to the Lost Princess, I decided I would be the one to save her. It was gonna be an epic Flynn Rider quest, save the damsel in distress and earn the gratitude of the kingdom.”

She giggled. “Was the real quest everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Well, I gotta say, when I played it out in my head I didn’t think I would die. Not to mention, I’ve been the one in distress far more than you,” he quipped.

Rapunzel laughed again, then lifted her head up to kiss his cheek. They fell into a comfortable silence as they continued to watch the lanterns light up the sky. She thought about how every lantern in the sky was released by someone. Each person had their own story of why they were there and what the lanterns meant to them. The lanterns were more than just her way home, it was a way of connecting for all of Corona.

She looked at Eugene. He was her dream and the love of her life, and it all started because of the lanterns. She didn’t want to think about where they could both be right now without these lanterns. Too much of life is spent on “what ifs,” and all she wanted to focus on was “now.” Right now, she is happier than she ever thought anyone could be, and didn’t even want to imagine her life differently.

“I love you,” she said, beaming. She didn’t know how to tell him everything she was thinking, she hoped those three words encapsulated it enough. Given by the look he gave to her in response, they did.

“I love you too, Sunshine.”

[xpedropascal]

To Be So Lonely [Maxwell Lord x Reader] Part Three

Summary: After being struck by a family tragedy, Maxwell Lord finds his legacy in taking over his father’s business, Black Gold Cooperative. Cold and shut-off from the world around him, he decides he does not have time for anything other than his work and cares only about pushing his company to success – but how difficult does that become for him when you enter his life as a ghost from the past?

Pairing: Maxwell Lord x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

WARNINGS: mention of suicide, character death, illness (cancer)

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE | PART FOUR [coming soon!]

MASTERLIST

KO-FI

AUTHOR’S NOTE: chapter three! this is quite an intense one so please check the warnings before reading. flashbacks can be identified through use of italics. To Be So Lonely will have themes of hurt/comfort, angst, fluff etc. i plan on it being a whole exciting ride. there will be connections to the DCEU and certain characters will making an appearance… however, for story-telling purposes, this will be in an alternate universe to Wonder Woman 1984 just because the movie has yet to be released. the main bulk of the story will be set in the 80s, with the occasional childhood flashbacks. please let me know if you want to be added onto a tag list!

♡ ♡ ♡ THREE ♡ ♡ ♡

You were still frozen, your brain struggling to process what had just happened. It wasn’t until city hall’s bell chimed and you knew it had turned 6PM, you were snapped out of your thoughts. You cursed under your breath and hurriedly put the cloth and spray you were holding behind the counter before bolting into your manager’s small make-shift office. On his desk, you located an ivory envelope, sealed, with your name written on it. You knew exactly what it was and ripped it open on instinct, collecting this month’s salary. Flicking your fingers through the green dollar bills, you found yourself mentally calculating how much your work this month had earned you. You sighed, puffing out your cheeks and feeling disheartened. Only $320. Grabbing your jacket and purse, you locked up the coffee shop.

When you stepped foot on the street outside, you took in the cool evening air. It felt so refreshing. Every pay day, you knew exactly where you needed to go and what you’d be spending your salary on. Swinging your purse over your shoulder you jogged over to the pharmacy just a few blocks away, and breathed a sigh of relief when you saw that the kind owner had yet to close. You stumbled in, trying to catch your breath and offered the owner of the pharmacy a warm smile. “Hi Mrs Walters,” you greeted her.

“Hi dear, how was work?” She leaned her sweeping brush into a corner and approached you, rubbing your shoulders in a comforting manner. You had been seeing Mrs Walters consistently more or less since you moved back to Gotham, and had grown increasingly close to her. You didn’t have time for friendships anymore, but the short, white haired lady had always been there for you during the darkest of times. You considered telling her about your run-in with Bruce Wayne, but figured that wouldn’t be the best idea since you were still trying to make sense of it all.

“It was okay. Same old. Do you have my mother’s prescription ready?” You quizzed Mrs Walters. The pharmacist gave you a knowing look and grabbed a rather large paper bag with Lucia Y/L/N (your mother’s name) written on it. The bag was filled with pills and potions used to make your mother’s life just that little bit easier. Upon leaving DC, your mother became sick but as you watched her health deteriorate, and knowing there was no cure for her illness, you swore to yourself you would do anything in your means to make her life as comfortable as could be. If that meant spending almost the entirety of your monthly salary on her, so be it.

“Yes, that will be $300.” Mrs Walters said, her fingers clicking away as she checked the numbers into the cash register. You pulled out your wages from your purse and handed them over to the pharmacist. Despite Mrs Walters giving you discount like she always would, it didn’t change the fact you had only just been paid and were now practically spent up for the month. You mouthed a ‘thank you’ at the kind lady, offering her a polite smile, and took the heavy paper bag filled to the brim with medication. With only twenty dollars to last the rest of the month, you decided to against getting the bus and travelled home by feet. It’s a mild night anyway- you told yourself.

♡

“Mother, with all due respect…” Maxwell Lord rolled his eyes as his mother paced around the spacious kitchen of Maxwell Lord’s DC penthouse, her high heels clicking against the pristine tiled floor. Thanks to botox from DC’s finest plastic surgeons, Naomi Lord had barely aged. She was still strutting around in that same ruby red lipstick, decked out in the most elegant pearls retrieved from the deepest part of the ocean, and her platinum blonde hair still sat in the tightest of curls.

“No Maxwell, you need to listen to me. I am not going to watch you make the same mistakes as your father did. Wasting away your shares in Black Gold like it’s nothing!”

Maxwell sighed, gently putting down his mug of espresso on the kitchen counter and closing his copy of The Financial Times. “It’s called investment.”

“Investing into what, exactly? Charity?” Naomi chuckled in disbelief. “Just like your father.” She reiterated. “Had some kind of complex, thinking he could singlehandedly fix the world by donating a few thousand to- what? The local library?” Naomi narrowed her eye’s at the cheque which had been written out in Maxwell’s name. Maxwell made a fist.

“I am nothing like my father.” Maxwell snapped, abruptly standing and pointing his ring clad finger, wincing at his mother’s painful comparison. Naomi suddenly quietened down, taking the hint that she had perhaps overstepped her boundaries. But she, like her son, was not one to give up.

“Sweetheart,” Naomi said, her voice gentle as she sat her son back down. “You know, all I’ve ever wanted is what’s best for Black Gold Cooperative. Because what is best for Black Gold Cooperative, is best for you.”

Maxwell’s mother had been telling her son this every single day after his father passed. After his father had selfishly chosen to leave him. It was no wonder he had engrained into him that his main priority was the family business. He was so sure he could never forgive his father for what he had done.

♡

When sixteen year old Maxwell Lord discovered his father’s body, the cry he let out was not one any mother wanted to hear from their child. Not even Naomi Lord. Maxwell fell to his knees and crawled over to his father’s body, grabbing on to it and swearing he’d never let go. Tears streaming down his face, he screamed for his mother. He yelled for help. Naomi came running into her husband’s office where she was met with her son, cradling Maxwell Lord III’s lifeless body on the floor.

“Oh Max, oh Max, oh Max,” she whispered repeatedly as she approached her son and gently tore him away from his father. Maxwell screamed as he let go and curled into his mother’s arms, sobbing. Naomi’s heart was shattered, and she buried her face into her son’s dark blonde hair, comforting him the best she could. She sat with Maxwell, on the floor, for only a few minutes, until she was able to compose herself and stand up. She took her son’s hand and pulled him up. “Sit here. Sit here my love, I’m going to call Lucia.” Naomi pulled her husband’s office chair out and watched her son shakily sit in it. She handed him a box of tissues and walked over to the phone, dialling the extension to the guest house. “Ah yes, Lucia it seems I could use your assistance. In my husband’s office. Quickly.” Naomi put the phone down and took a deep breath. “Okay Maxwell, brighten up. No time to mourn. Things are going to change real fast for you,” she rubbed the tears away from her son’s eyes. “Look at me. I need you to go to your room and change into your best suit, and then wait for me in the lobby.”

“But dad-“ Maxwell whimpered, and turned to look at his father one last time.

“I won’t ask you again.” Naomi said sternly. Maxwell nodded obediently and stood up before leaving the office.

Naomi watched her son leave, stiffening up and kneeling beside her husband on the floor. With great difficulty, she was able to regulate her breathing and hold back any tears. Hidden in the pocket of his suit jacket, she found a note. Unfolding it, she read her husband’s final words.

‘Naomi,

This was never meant to happen. Lord Tech was a failure- my failure. I always knew you were against the expansion of Black Gold Cooperative but with Wayne Enterprises’ taking over the states, I felt like I had no other choice. We’re losing money, and a lot of it. As of today, I will be disenfranchising Lord Technologies. It will be no more; for I have made a discovery, that our company, our family business, has been creating and selling carcinogenic products. I am filled with extreme guilt. How am I to go on, when it is our family name that will be responsible for hundreds of deaths worldwide.

On the second Monday of March, I asked our house-keeper, Lucia, to collect my belongings from our head laboratory. Naomi, darling, I have no doubt that she will be infected with the illness. Everyone who has been in proximity with our head lab developers will now have the cancer. I feel for her daughter. I found out that the cancer is a new strain. Lucia knows nothing about this and I expect for it to stay that way. The outbreak will make news eventually but it cannot be associated with my family name. The Lord family has nothing to do with this. Hide my note, and when the time comes, pass it on to my boy Maxwell, when he is old enough to understand.

Oh my dearest Maxwell… my wife, you should ensure he does not make the same mistakes as I did. Black Gold Cooperative still has a chance of success and our family legacy must go on! But not under my rule. Which is why, I will be passing on the business to him. Black Gold is our priority. It will always be our priority.

My boy, on the chance that you read this, know that I have always loved you. I’ve not been the best father, but even in death know that I have always cared so deeply about you.

Make me proud.

With love,

Maxwell Lord III’

Naomi gulped, folding away the note and slipping it into the pocket of her fur jacket.

“Mrs Lord,” Lucia appeared by the office door frame and when she caught sight of Maxwell Lord III’s dead body she gasped, stumbling backwards.

“Suicide,” Naomi explained, raising to her feet. “Lucia, are you sick?”

“I’m okay,” Lucia knotted her eyebrows in confusion, but she had no time to question it. “Mrs Lord… I am so… so sorry…”

“Lucia I need you to call an ambulance and report a suicide,” Naomi instructed.

“Did he leave a note?” Lucia asked.

Naomi hesitated before letting out a strong “No.”

“Oh…”

“Call the press too.” Naomi said.

“The press?”

“I’ll be the one to announce my husband’s demise… not some random paparazzi selling the story to the tabloids. I also have to announce the closure of Lord Technologies. From now on, our focus will be on Black Gold Cooperative… it’s what my husband would’ve wanted.” Naomi replied, the usual bitterness dripping from her tongue.

“You’re taking over Black Gold?” Lucia questioned further.

“No, my son is.”

“But Max is just a child…”

“My son will be CEO of Black Gold Cooperative. He is a Lord. He has what it takes.”

Lucia gulped. “I have no doubt but don’t you think you should give him a little time to grieve before you throw all this at him.”

“Are you telling me how to raise my son, Ms Y/L/N?” Naomi spat and Lucia looked at her feet. “I want you to call the authorities, call the press, pack your bags and leave before they get here.”

“Leave?” Lucia gasped. “But- but I have nowhere to go. And my daughter-“

“That is my final order.” Naomi said, pointing her finger towards the door.

♡

Maxwell took a sip of his now cold espresso, it left a sour taste in his mouth. He reopened his newspaper and shook off his mother’s words.

“Maxie,” Barbara Minerva’s voice made Maxwell jump. She had the same effect on him as his mother did. She called his name again before finding him still sat at the breakfast bar.

“Barbara what are you doing here?” Maxwell sighed, feeling slightly uneasy at the way her diamond engagement ring glinted in the white lights of his kitchen. “You know not to come to my penthouse uninvited.”

“Your mother faxed me. She’s called the tabloids again… anonymously, of course. The press are going to be waiting for us at the Plaza restaurant on Sunday. She wants us to officially announce the engagement.” Barbara smiled, wrapping her arms around Maxwell and pressing a kiss into his jaw.

“Don’t.” Maxwell said, shuddering away from her. “You don’t touch me. Don’t kiss me. Just. Don’t.” Maxwell was filled with the regret of getting intimate with Barbara, his secretary, in his office the night before. Now Barbara was overstepping her boundaries. She might have been engaged to Maxwell, but he did not tolerate any physical affection from her unprompted. If this is what love was, Max didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. He was still cold, and still miserable.

Naomi had set Barbara and Maxwell up and within three months they were already engaged. Barbara was truly smitten with Maxwell. He had everything she wanted; money, fame, power and fortune… and Barbara was certainly beautiful, but Maxwell had never really considered marriage. Not since he was a child and used to dream of marrying the little girl who lived in his guest house.

“Max.” Barbara had been chanting her fiancée’s name for the past couple of minutes. It seemed like Maxwell was in his own little world.

“Yeah. We can’t go to the Plaza on Sunday.” Max shook his head, standing up and fixing his tie.

“What?”

“I have a lot to do. Gotta prepare for my meeting with Bruce Wayne for a start. Do you have my schedule for Monday?”

“Max, I’m only your secretary when I’m at work…” Barbara reminded the CEO. “We haven’t been on a date in so long. I know this is your mother’s doing but please… I want the world to know I’m going to be the future Mrs Lord.”

Maxwell stared at his bride-to-be for a few moments before letting out another deep sigh. “Okay,” he agreed. “Come on. You can share a ride with me. Don’t want to be late for work.”

♡

“Mom! I’m home!” you called as you entered your Gotham apartment, throwing your keys on the counter and gently placing the brown paper bag of medication down. “You won’t believe who came into the shop and asked me out on a date.”

Your eyes caught on to your mother, Lucia, who was laying on the sofa, sleeping. Her chest was rattling as it heaved up and down. She looked even worse than she did before you left her to go to work that morning. You walked into the kitchen and took a towel, running it under the tap to dampen it. You brought it back into the living room and placed it gently on your mother’s forehead hoping to cool her down. You brought her a glass of ice, knowing it would have melted into water by the time she wakes up, and a bottle of pills, putting it near her on the coffee table. You gave her a gentle kiss, kicked off your shoes and entered your bedroom.

Sitting on the edge of your bed, you looked at your reflection in your full length mirror and began fumbling with your fingers. How could you possibly prepare yourself for a date with Bruce Wayne?

♡♡♡ TAGLIST ♡♡♡

@mrschiltoncat​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @thisisthe-way​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @buckysalefty​ 

[annabethy]

Since you want more prompts: Actress Annabeth who goes to the store/coffe shop/ restaurant (whatever you choose) and star struck fan boy Percy who’s trying to play it cool but “wow she’s way prettier in real life and she’s super nice and funny and how is she so poised and elegant I must be making a fool of myself” I just love that and we all know Annabeth would be *that* celebrity who does everything she can to make her fans happy and treat them well “hey this fan is pretty cute and sweet”

Percy really just wanted to go home.

It was only noon and he had already had his fair share of awful customer encounters in the magical place he called Walgreens. He didn’t know what was up today, but it was as though every single person had a stick up their ass, and he was not being paid enough for this.

Regardless, he didn’t have the option of going home because he just started his shift and also because he needed money as a poor twenty-four-year-old who decided to go to grad school.

Still. He wasn’t even doing anything useful. Someone else was at the front manning checkout, so he resorted to sort of stumbling around the store for any source of amusement.

Surprise. Nothing came.

At some point during the next hour, he found himself moping in the candy aisle, contemplating on whether or not he should grab something to keep himself awake. It wasn’t like the store was going to miss those delicious sour gummy worms, and if they did, it would still be worth it.

Percy only managed to calm his desire to snatch that colorful candy when someone breezed by the end of the aisle. He wouldn’t have looked twice if it hadn’t been for the fact that they looked like they had just robbed a bank and were now sulking around the aisles suspiciously.

He tried to ignore them the best he could, but in the mirror lining the top of the wall, he could see the person standing in front of a shelf of rather expensive technological shit he couldn’t be bothered to name.

The girl, or at least he thinks it’s a girl if the long blonde hair peeking out from underneath a black hoodie was any indication, had her hands stuffed deep into the front pocket, and she was shifting on her feet ready to run at any given moment. This girl appeared really sketch, and as much as he definitely doesn’t want to get involved, he kind of has no choice if she’s stealing.

He quietly made his way around the aisle towards the area she was occupying, treading lightly. Once she came into view, he leaned against the metal rack to survey her, hoping she wouldn’t turn around and notice him ominously watching over her.

From where he stood, he couldn’t really see her face, but everything else about her seemed overly poised. The fabric of her sweater seemed way out of his pay grade, even with the distance between them, and he had to resist the urge to reach out and run his fingers over it.

She stood there for a second, analyzing the display of expensive chargers and headphones, before gently grabbing one and sliding it down the opening of her sleeve. It sent off alarms in Percy’s head because he was fairly certain that she intended to steal it.

He bit his lip sharply, a wave of annoyance coming over him. What was it with customers thinking that they could get away with theft?

He was just not in the mood to do this today. In the middle of New York City, it could get pretty dangerous when someone was completely disguised by an oversized hoodie. For all he knew, she was carrying a weapon, ready to knock his brains out if he interrupted her master escape plan.

Still, it was his job and those headphones she just grabbed seemed pricey enough to make him lose his job if he just sat by and let it happen, so he didn’t have a choice.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” he called out just as she started to turn and stalk off. She whipped around rapidly, which didn’t do anything to take the suspicion off of her. He still couldn’t get a great view of her face, and he also didn’t really care to.

She slowly twisted her hands together, her fingers just barely peeking out from below the rims of the sleeves. She stayed silent, perhaps to stay innocent until proven guilty, but when he didn’t elaborate, she was forced to calmly mutter, “Yes?”

Percy almost snorted in her face. From her stance, she seemed to know exactly why he had interrupted her. Instead of mocking her though, he just nodded towards her hands. “You’re going to have to pay for that, or I’ll be forced to call the police.”

The girl froze. “I—I was going to.”

Percy eyed her carefully, concerned about the hoodie still really low over her face. “You stuffed it into your sleeve and you’re wearing a black jacket over your face in the middle of New York.”

She scoffed, and then her hand was reaching up to yank the hoodie off her head, revealing her flowing blonde locks and piercing grey eyes, and it was then that Percy realized his grave mistake. “I was not going to steal!”

Percy stumbled over his words because standing right in front of him was Annabeth Chase, one of the biggest actors in the country, hell, maybe even in the world, and she was glaring at him like she was about to pull out a knife and stab him for even insinuating that she would steal from a random Walgreens.

“I—” Percy’s eyes were wide as he stared at the celebrity only five feet in front of him. “I just thought…”

“Thought what?” Her voice as she spoke was venomous, dripping with apathy.

Percy couldn’t find it in him to gather his words because Annabeth Chase was so close he could probably reach out and touch her, and he had spent so long being obsessed with her (but in a healthy way, he thinks) and this could not be happening.

“You’re Annabeth Chase,” he said, dumbfounded. He probably had his mouth gaping and everything.

“And?”

“You’re—” Percy swallowed, suddenly self-conscious of his ugly red polo and work khakis. He felt like Jake from State Farm. “You’re so much prettier than I expected.”

“Excuse me?”

Percy cursed, holding his hands out as though to soften the blow of his words. “No! That’s not what I meant! I just—”

“You just what?” Annabeth looked thoroughly offended by him, and he didn’t know how to clarify what he was actually saying without sounding like a stalker that may or may not have a shrine for her.

Still. He didn’t want to insult someone that could turn millions of people against him with the snap of her fingers, so he rushed to say something, which did approximately nothing. “I’ve been watching you for years and you were so pretty, but now you’re standing in the middle of Walgreens and you’re, like, really pretty, like so pretty I could kiss you, and—” Percy shrieked. “Wait, no! Not kiss you! I mean, I could of course, but that’s pretty rude and I’m pretty sure it’s considered harassment in some states, if not all of them, so I definitely won’t do that to you, but—”

Somewhere along his mess of a speech, her face seemed to morph from fury to amusement, and he wanted to just melt into a puddle on the floor and die.

“I’m making myself look like a fool in front of Annabeth Chase,” he muttered to no one in particular. “Perfect.”

“I would reassure you and say you didn’t, but I’d feel guilty lying to you, considering how honest you were with me two seconds ago.” Annabeth looked him up and down, and Percy thought she looked unimpressed. When her eyes trailed back to his, she tilted her head to the side, lifting the side of her mouth slightly in a smile that showed off one of her dimples, and god, she was so freaking gorgeous. “I wasn’t going to steal, for the record.”

“Yeah, I got that now.” Percy suspected his voice also just cracked, and he was actually going to go bang his head into a wall repeatedly until he had a brain bleed.

It was entirely unfair just how elegant she seemed in this moment because Percy was a blubbering mess over here, and she had the audacity to laugh at him. How could someone be so put together, and just how unlucky do you have to be to look this moronic in front of arguably the hottest celebrity out there?

“Are you alright?” Annabeth asked. “You’re looking a bit faint over there.”

“I just—” Percy gave an awkward grin. “I’m starstruck over here.”

“Starstruck?” she asked, testing the word in her mouth. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”

“Really? How could they not?”

“Most people would consider it lame to actually say that to their celebrity crush, as you so eloquently put it.”

Percy flushed. “Funny.”

“It is, don’t you think?” Annabeth smirked at him, and Percy’s heart just about leaped out of his chest. “I have to say, no one’s ever messed up that badly before.”

“Well, I guess no one’s as stupid as me.”

“No one’s accused me of stealing either,” she added unhelpfully. Even without a mirror, Percy just knew he looked redder than a tomato, and he could tell she was basking in his misery.

That’s it. Percy’s going to walk into the street and let himself get run over by a taxi.

“A lot of firsts in this room,” Annabeth said, a teasing edge to her voice. “First time meeting a celebrity?”

“How’d you know?” he asked sarcastically, and he realized he was standing awkwardly at a distance from her.

She looked at the floor between them. “You can get closer, you know. I won’t bite.”

“The look you gave me earlier said otherwise.” Percy got closer anyways so that they were talking like normal human beings.

Annabeth laughed, and even that about her was smooth and melodic.

He lifted his hand to scratch the base of his neck. “I’m sorry I accused you of stealing.”

“I’ll let it slide because you’re so cute.”

Percy’s mind came to a reeling halt as he processed her words. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought she was flirting with him, but she obviously wasn’t because he was a nobody off the streets. Right?

“I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say now,” he offered meekly.

“You really are new to this,” she said, whistling slightly.

“Obviously, I haven’t ever tried to stop a famous actor from stealing.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Percy blinked. “Oh?”

“I guess I’ll just have to help you out then,” she said, sighing in mock disappointment. “You’re supposed to tell me your name.”

White hot alarm flooded through him, because yeah, she was one-hundred perfect flirting with him. That, or she was trying to get him to make even more of a fool of himself.

Either way, she sure knew what she was doing.

He supposes he would just have to settle with defeat if she was conning him because in no way was he about to pass up the opportunity to cozy up to the hottest girl alive.

“I’m Percy,” he offered, working up the confidence to give her a dazzling smile. “Figures you would want to know my name.”

“Had to know the name of the guy to call me out for my thievery,” she excused jokingly, eyes gleaming. “And the one who proposed making out in the middle of a convenience store.”

“I’m still down for that kiss,” he teases, voice suddenly much less shaky and much more low, deep in the back of his throat.

“Oh, so now you wanna have game?” she asked, leaning against the shelf with the headphones she’d grabbed now clear in her hand. “Where was that when I asked your name?”

“I was still gathering it up,” he said.

“Hm.” Annabeth nodded knowingly. “I see.”

“Should I make it up to you, then?”

“You’re going to have to if you expect this to go any further,” Annabeth said, but he can tell that she’s mainly messing around with him.

Percy decided to tease her back. “You expect this to go any further?”

“It’s gonna have to. You promised me that kiss, and I expect you to pay up.”

“I guess I’ll just have to deliver, in that case.”

“I charge interest.” When Percy locked eyes with her, there was fire burning between them, and it was like there was something more between them, despite them having just met.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” he said.

A silence fell between them again, but it was comfortable and fitting. They just stared softly at each other for a while until Annabeth spoke again, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You’re different,” she started, nibbling on her lower lip. “You’re really sweet.”

“I think you mean chaotic,” he quipped, ignoring the way his heart pulsated beneath his fingertips at the heartfelt compliment.

“That whole being in love with me spiel you did was pretty cute,” she said. “When I say you’re sweet, I mean it. I don’t hand things like that out for nothing.”

Percy blushed, gesturing towards her. “Look at you, though. You’re — perfect. I’m not sure how else to put that, but you do everything to please your fans.”

“I am quite perfect,” Annabeth agreed. “But being accused of stealing and then watching you melt into a puddle of nerves and get all jittery? It’s unmatched.”

Percy could not believe that this was actually happening. Everything he thought was true about her from movies and pictures was magnified by ten in person, and she was such a nice person. She was more down-to-earth than other people out there, and it was refreshing.

He tried to play it cool, but he did the exact opposite, and she still called him cute and sweet and he could actually start fangirling right now.

Percy really didn’t want this to end, so he would just have to take things into his own hands.

“Listen,” he said, standing up straighter. He could feel his stomach tingle with nerves. “I know you’re famous and all, and I’m…not, and you probably get asked this all the time, but you seem like someone I’d like to get to know, so I was wondering if…”

“Careful,” Annabeth warned, amused. “You’re starting to lose your game again.”

“Shut up,” he muttered, gently shoving her shoulder. It wasn’t until after the fact that he realized he just touched the golden girl of the country. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

She didn’t answer, and his heart dropped, but then—

“I thought you’d never ask.” Annabeth pursed her lips to stifle her widening grin.

Percy clapped his hands together, admittedly surprised that she agreed. It was something of dreams. “When are you free?”

“Today works.”

He looked around, contemplating on how to answer. He really needed the money, and he was still in the middle of his shift. Leaving now would cause him to get in some major trouble, but on the other hand…

“Let’s go.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Right now?”

“Right now,” he confirmed.

“You don’t have to finish working first?”

“The guy up front can cover for me,” Percy said, already working up the courage to grab her hand and start pulling her towards the exit. She seemed just as enthusiastic to go with him, lacing their fingers together, sparks of electricity flowing through them.

Annabeth dropped the headphones back onto the metal racks, smiling jokingly when he looked at her. “Wouldn’t want to steal, would I?”

“I suppose not,” Percy said, utterly infatuated. He had just met her, and he was already dreaming of a future with just the two of them. From the way her eyes traced over the slopes of his face, as though burning them into her memory, he knew he wasn’t alone in it.

As they walked out into the New York sunshine, Percy smiled at Annabeth, and thought she looked amazing under the rays of light. She was everything — pretty and funny and nice and flawless — and she agreed to go out with him.

Percy tries not to fall in love, but it was easier said than done when this perfect woman was looking at him with those breathtaking eyes and setting his heart on fire.

(But when she kisses him in the middle of Central Park, he knows he already is. He finds he doesn’t mind).

[veronicaduartes]

Thoughts

So, the thing is... I feel devastated.

I loved somebody, gave him my all and he trew me away like a pile of trash. As if he never cared for me and the last 2 years of my life were just wasted.

I worked so hard on these last 2 years, I come from a broken family, abusive father, emotionally-unavailable mother (she did her best though, she had it DAMN hard all her life). On January 2020 I got into a car crash and no one believed my version of the story, they prefered to believe I was drunk-driving (which I wasn't) and it was all my fault (which it wasn't).

So I got really resentful and decided to get myself a job, stop depending on my mother and having to put up with all the shame inflicted on me. I started working at a call center, barely made minimun wage salary but I was saving as much money as I could to get out of my house (rent a room somewhere since it was all I could afford).

At the same time, I was dating a really nice guy, that I had only met a couple of months prior. He was 6 years older than me and already had a stable job so he decided to move out with me, wherever we decided to go.

It's April now, and on the 24th night of the month we moved in together. I was on cloud 9, we were so happy, I had a the shittiest job but coming home to him and watching TV together was everything I wanted and it was worth every damn second answering the phone.

But as the months passed the guy I loved grew apart from me. Suddenly we were not spending the nights together, all he did was play videogames with his friends all night until 7am in the morning sometimes, while I was growing lonelier and lonelier. Sex wasn't even happening, and I thought he didn't want me anymore. I told him about my discomfort and he promised to make some time for me.

Some more months passed and it was ok, but the situation repeated itself, and of course I was sad again. Many hours of thinking and analyzing patterns later, I decided it wasn't working anymore for me and it was time to call it quits.

I don't know what I expected that night but as the time came, I told him to break up. He seemingly reacted very calm and peacefull so I told him we could stay friends. The next day I had to go to work, I felt really sad but hadn't even realized in my mind that our relationship was over, until I received a text from him that said "I'm moving out on Thursday". That text just sunk into my stomach and as I got home to find an empty house it felt even worse. He had already gone to his parents' house, without even saying goodbye.

I was incredibly dissapointed, I thought that if he loved me he would've fight back, or at least not ran away on the first shot he got. Anyway, so he told me he was coming on Wednesday to organize his stuff into boxes and move out Thursday in the morning. I told him we could have a last dinner together, just to give some closure to me, as I felt I needed closure and so we did. Turns out on Wednesday night after talking a couple of hours he ended up crying and asking me if he could stay. I told him he had made the strongest desition by hiring that truck to move out and getting all his shit into boxes so, there was no backing off now. (By the way, some of the appliances were his' such as the refrigerator which he did not hesitate to leave me with all the food on the floor to rot as he took his damn refrigerator). On the next morning I told him goodbye and we went our separate ways.

Since I couldn't pay the rent all by myself I was left with no other choice than to go back to my parents' house. They helped me with the moving but I still felt like a damn failure coming back, while I still mourned the end of our relationship and cried myself to sleep every night.

Some weeks passed and one morning, I woke up with a text of his telling me "I miss you". I told him I missed him too (which I really did) and so we agreed to meet once again to talk. We met and the inevitable happened: after some crying we got back together. Still living apart though. Months passed and everything was going great! Still had our arguments but by this time we had already figured out how to talk our differences with love and patience.

**At this point I need to give you some important context: since I come from a broken family, I DON'T want kids. I really don't want to have kids of my own, not as of now or in the future. I don't discard adopting, I believe that's a very beautiful way to become a parent, but I really do not want to go through pregnancy and all those things having a baby comes with. I have always been very honest about it when I'm meeting people because on past relationships I've had this issue. So, since I was meeting this guy I was talking about, back on 2019, I told him I didn't want kids and he seemed to be on the same page as me. He even told me he wanted to get the male contraceptive injection that was soon going to be available on the market. Everything seemed fime.**

So, back to the story. On January 2021, my boyfriend's sister found out she was pregnant, everyone on his family was really happy because, on the contrary as myself, they have a really beautiful, happy and healthy family (everything I wished for). I was really happy for them as well and my boyfriend and I even went shopping some nice things for the baby. We bought the cutest and fluffiest bear costume. It was adorable.

As more months passed, I saw my boyfriend getting more and more excited about babies and the idea of having babies. Since he knew my position, he eventually taked to me about wanting to have babies in the future. I told him my position has not changed and most likely it will not change. I can't predict the future of course and can't know what my mind will think on 5-10 years, but I was honest with him and told him that the odds of me changing my mind are quite low, not to say inexistant. But he was confused, he still didn't know if he wanted kids or not. So I told him "think about it and whenever you have made up your mind, let me know".

On August 27th, about 12 am in the morning, his nephew was born, strong and healthy. I was really happy for all his family, since I know how much they already loved that boy. I sent them my best wishes and since he came out by c-section, they had to stay in the hospital for a couple of days.

Later that same day, I published some stupid game on instagram which really doesn't matter much what it was about but somehow it got us into a discussion and he told me "this is one of the best days of my life for you to fuck it up"... Those words really took me by surprise, I was happy and silly, literally just joking him around but he reacted very strongly and rude.

How in the hell is it ever going to be my intention to ruin his day? I thought he was very defensive. He stoped taking to me and returned hours later. However, I was really hurt and I felt like we really needed to talk about it. He sort of apologized but we couldn't continue the conversation since he was already sleepy and told me if we could continue the next day. I told him it was fine, of course.

The next day came and he didn't remember to get back to the conversation, he just pretended as if everything was fine. Another day passed so I reminded him and he told me it was late already and he was tired, so if we could talk the next day (again). A week passed and he never remembered to catch up with the conversation (or ignored it). I still felt sad and hurt and so, when making plans for the weekend I told him how I felt and that we needed to talk. We agreed on a day and place, but he followed telling me he knew I have been upset but he just ignored me... So basically that started the fight once again. How the hell if you know someone you love is upset and sad you just ignore it? Do you care how I feel at all? Some things were said and I didn't understand where did this sudden hate come from.

Ever since the baby was born he had been defensive and treating me badly like that (something I had never seen before on him). I was utterly confused until he confessed it to me: he was somehow angry with me because I do not want kids..... I had no words, how the hell was I supposed to knew that? It did make a lot of sense though, his behaviour was immediately explained to me. However he started blaming me on his smoking and a bunch of other crap I have no blame on. Turns out he told me: he decided he does wants kids and therefore I no longer had a place in his life. I told him to tell me, to confirm me if that meant we were breaking up, to at least have the guts to tell that to my face (metaphorically cause this conversation was all by text). I begged him for a goodbye, once again, to get some closure. I deserve closure, but he wasn't even able to tell me goodbye. To tell me I was a good girlfriend, to thank me for all the love I gave him, for all the times I had advised him, for all the memories we had together, to thank me for at least giving him my all. He knew I loved him, he really did.

And I respect his reason, I really do. If he wants kids and I don't then there's no point of staying together if we're going on different paths. However, it's been a week from the breakup. I'm still here devastated, crying, stalking his twitter every 5 minutes to see if there's any clue that he might be thinking of me. But all I see is the opposite. He's saying that he's happy, posting pictures with his baby-born nephew, it's almost as if I never meant anything to him. One week with the baby and I'm already out of his life. Am I so damn disposable? Does he not remember any of the happy moments we spent together? All the love that I gave him? How I even fought my own family to defend him? How I cared for him... It sucks, it really sucks.

The next morning after the breakup he had already deleated all his pictures with me on social media. So, on the next day I did the same. Oh how damn hard it was to delete that video I made about us and our adventures... I spent about 8 hours collecting little clips of our trips and I loved the end result so much... and now it's gone... forever, along with our memories.

It really sucks, some days I am ok, with just a little hole inside of me but overall ok... and some other days I feel like I want to die (yes, literally die). I cry everytime I remember. I have no friends. I can't tweet about how damn sad I feel because I don't want any of his friends or my friends even to see me how devastated and dependant I am.

The thing is, I don't believe he understands how much he meant to me... how much I loved him and how safe I felt on his arms. He's got lots of friends, a supporting family, tons of hobbies... while I'm here depressed, no job, no friends, nobody to talk to, living in my parents' house. I literally feel as if this 2 years, I tried so hard and it ended up being all wasted. I'm back to square one: no job, no money, no relationship. Lonely and sad once again.

I wish I could be like those strong women who stay single for very long periods of time... but I'm lonely. I usually need someone to hear me, someone to talk to. I like having someone to share my life with.

Sometimes I hate myself for having this romantic expectation of a perfect relationship that lasts forever and the love flame never dies... I guess Disney channel really damaged me. The dream is slowly dying though, at this moment I'm all out of hope. I know there are some men out there that would like to be with me, but I see no point in that.

First of all, I'm not interested in anybody. I don't like anybody, I don't even want men near me. I'm literally out of hope and I don't even want to meet anybody because eveything will eventually end up this way. I don't believe anymore. And it's dangerous to be out of hope.

Sometimes I'm scared, like, literally scared to become suicidal or something. Right now I'm not, sometimes I wish to die but I don't think I'm brave enough to do it myself. And then I stop to think that my mom doesn't deserve that pain. But yeah, sometimes I'm scared I may end up like Chester Bennington; with so many songs that basically were a cry for help but nobody ever took it that way because he looked so healthy and confident.

And I know I'm a great actress, I know people don't even suspect I have been fighting depression for years now. Every single day is a struggle and I'm tired already. I'm honestly so tired to be battling every day I just want to be free and give up but I can't since my demons are all inside of me.

I quit my job a month ago cause I thought that would give me happiness but guess what? Yeah, it didn't. Somehow it was easier having something to blame, than realizing that the only one to blame is yourself.

My boyfriend knew I was having a hard time with these thoughts already, he told me I should go to therapy. But I have no money to spend on therapy... and also, as I said in the beggining, nor do I have a supporting family, if they know I want to go to therapy they will think I'm crazy.

I have always been very strong, and showcased myself as a really strong woman, who thinks and analyzes and makes rational desitions... but it was always been just an act, when I'm by myself I cry a lot, I have a lot of traumas which I have been working really hard on for years now, but as I said, I'm tired.

I'm so tired of having to fight a battle everyday, I honestly just want peace and I'm scared I will never find it. Cause I can't stay like this for much longer. I know I won't hold up all my life with this sadness.

I quit my job because I wanted to start my own business. At first I was so excited about it but now I just can't find ANY motivation to work at all.

I don't know if he left me because I'm crazy and too much to handle, which reinforces my lack of hope in relationships. It has happened to me before, I don't know if all men are the same and they all forget you once they have you, which really sucks... Or if on the contrary, I keep seeking emotionally-unavailable people, just as my childhood attachment...

At least right now some friends have showed up and I have told them I've been having a hard time with this breakup (haven't told about all the other issues though, but it's a first step)... though I don't know if I'm ready to talk about it. I don't want to burst into tears and dramaticly crying in public, but oh well... We'll see how it goes.

Right now, all these thoughts are making me crazy. Sometimes I'm angry with my ex-boyfriend for leaving me right when I needed him the most... but it was a relationship doomed to end, and somehow deep inside me I always knew it. Still, that doesn't remove all the pain I'm feeling right now. If anything, just makes me blame myself for letting it come this far and letting myself fall so hard in love with somebody I knew wasn't right.

I don't know what to do right now... I'm dying to talk to him, but I know I must not. He doesn't miss me, he never loved me as much as I loved him (I don't know if he even has the capability of loving so deeply as I loved him) and we're not even compatible and I wasn't even enjoying his company so much lately... but you know, my feelings do not act by reason and I HATE them so much because of that. I feel like they dominate me, instead of me dominating them.

I gotta be strong and reasonable... These are the moments where I wish I had faith in God or something to give me strenght but I don't even believe in anything.

Why do we always cry and suffer so much about people that don't even deserve it? People that are no good for us...

Songs in my mind right now:

* Phil Collins - Against all odds

* Olivia Rodrigo - Good 4 u

* Olivia Rodrigo - All I want

* Taylor Swift - Cardigan

* Selena Gomez - The heart wants what I wants

Most likely no one will read this, but it helped me try to organize some thoughts in my head so that's enough for me. Luckily, no one uses tumblr anymore.

[imanativeofswlondondahling]

Becoming A Stark (4) Peter Parker X Stark! FemReader

A/N: So this is the longest chapter I’ve written for this so far! And it’s one of my favorites. Also my mom surprised me with a Nintendo Switch to make up for the fact that I haven’t been allowed to leave the house since March so I’m hoping to get another chapter of this out this weekend but there’s also Animal Crossing now so.......... As always let me know your thoughts on this or if you want to be tagged whenever I post a new chapter!

Word Count:  8346

Warnings: Mention of drug and alcohol abuse, swearing I think

Chapter One || Previous Chapter || Master List

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” Tony’s voice is painted with the smile he wears as Pepper walks into the living room.

“You saw me two days ago.”

“Two days too long.” He says before kissing her cheek. “I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“That’s because this is just a stop. I’m not staying. I’m picking up Y/N.”

“You’re taking Y/N…?” He trails off in confusion.

“We’re going to get mani/pedis, do some back to school clothes shopping, and maybe get dinner. I want to get to know your daughter better.”

“She seems fine with hanging out with everyone except me.” Tony says dejectedly. 

“You’re an acquired taste.” Pepper teases before placing a quick kiss on his lips. “Give her time. She hasn’t had even a week of having a father yet.” 

“What time will you be back?” He asks, already knowing that he’ll have to fill his afternoon by himself.

“Six or seven maybe?” Tony glances at the Stark Phone that he’s actually started carrying with him now that it’s more personal. Natasha had snapped a picture of Y/N at, apparently, your favorite place in the whole city, which looks like a big book store. You’re not even looking at the camera, you’re carrying a ton of books and yet reaching for another one, but you’re smiling which is more than he can say for the past few days. When Natasha sent it to him, he immediately made it his background and lock screen. It may not have been a week, but you’re definitely becoming his world. “I’m going to see if she’s ready to go.”

You take one last look in the mirror, trying to decide if this is the outfit you want to be seen out in the world with famous Pepper Potts. Maybe you should change and dress up, but you’d rather be comfortable if you’re being honest. So instead of a dress or a romper, you’re in a pair of ripped denim shorts, a Rolling Stones t-shirt that you found at a thrift store a few months ago for so cheap but it’s in such good condition, and tie dyed high tops. You had thrown your hair into a ponytail with a red scrunchy only because the humidity was too much today. There’s a knock on the door. “Come in.” Jerk It Out by Caesars is playing over JARVIS, but he turns it down as Pepper walks into your room. You are in the middle of putting on the heart shaped pendant that Nana had given you for your thirteenth birthday as Pepper stands across your room.

“You ready to head out?” You glance back at the mirror once more time as you see Pepper in a red cocktail length dress.

“Do I need to dress up?” You ask, suddenly worried that your shorts and t-shirt won’t cut it in Pepper’s world.

“Honestly no. I probably should change. I came from a business lunch at this overly posh restaurant. If you’re good waiting like five minutes, I’ll go change.”

“Yeah I’ll be fine.” You grab a bag from your pile of bags, throw your wallet, a testing kit and then wander down to the kitchen to grab some low snacks.

“Rolling Stones?” Tony asks in mock surprise. “Couldn’t wear something like AC/DC or Black Sabbath? Have some taste if you’re really my daughter.”

“If you’re having doubts, I’ll go home to Nana and Pops.” You say as you throw the applesauce pouches in your purse.

“Nope. Not happening. I’ll forgive your subpar music taste, but we’ll get working on music education soon.” You just roll your eyes. You weren’t going to admit to him that you already listen to AC/DC a good chunk of the time and when in the right mood you listened to Black Sabbath.

“Y/N Miss Potts wants to know if you want her to grab you a pair of sandals for your pedicure.” JARVIS asks.

“I’ll grab a pair.” Turning to make your way back up the stairs, you walk back into your room. Grabbing the first pair of sandals you see. As you walk out your door, you see Pepper walking towards you in a loose white top, denim shorts, and a pair of sandals. “That’s the most laid back I think I’ve ever seen you.” 

“That’s because you see me coming from SI most of the time and I have to dress up for that. But we’re going for comfy and casual now.” She smiles at you. “Did your dad see your shirt?”

“And give me crap for my subpar music taste? Yeah.”

“I had a feeling he might.” 

“That’s why he’s not invited.” Pepper laughs.

“It’s not because we’re going shopping and for mani/pedis which he would be miserable at anyway?”

“That too. But still, if he hates on the Stones, he’s not invited.” Pepper lets out another laugh as the two of you walk back into the kitchen. 

“What joke did I miss out on this time?” Tony asks.

“You had to be there.” You say instead of explaining. 

“It’s nothing.” Pepper says, leaning over to place a kiss on his lips. 

“I can’t tell if you’re corrupting her or the other way around.” Tony says as the two of you walk towards the elevator. “Maybe I should come along for supervision.”

“Bye Tony.” Pepper says, rolling her eyes before telling JARVIS to take them down to the garage. “So where do you normally go for back to school shopping?”

“Well we never had a ton of money, so Nana and I usually hit up the thrift stores. But I find great deals like this,” You motion to your shirt. “Four bucks and it’s basically brand new. Well as brand new as an old shirt can be.”

“Where are your favorite shops?” 

“We’d go to Buffalo Exchange if we were looking for more like dresses and stuff. Like that one I wore to dinner I got at the Buffalo Exchange on the lower East Side. But there’s also a handful of good mom and pop thrift shops in Queens and Brooklyn if you’d rather head over that way. Bayside Thrift Shop is a good one in Queens or there’s Out of the Closet in Brooklyn.”

“Which one do you have better luck at?” Pepper asks as they walk to where Happy is waiting for them.

“I’ve always had great luck at Bayside.”

“So lets start there and then we can head to Buffalo Exchange before mani/pedis.” Pepper suggests. 

“Where are we heading?” Happy asks as you and Pepper slide into the backseat. 

“Bayside Thrift Shop in Queens.” Pepper turns to you. “Want to put some music on while we drive over?”

“Really?” 

“Nothing you put on can be worse than what Tony puts on when he’s in a bad mood.” She says with a smile. 

“Um ok. JARVIS can you play my June playlist?” You ask before he can list that you have a playlist called Tony Stark Can Rot. For some reason you feel like she wouldn’t like that as much.

“Certainly Y/N.” The first notes of Sweet Child O’ Mine by Guns N’ Roses start to play and you relax into the seat. If you had headphones in, it would feel like all the times that you, Betty, and Astrid had gone between Queens and the main island during the summer. The biggest difference was you weren’t crammed into the humid subway car and sitting to your right was your dad’s girlfriend, who was the farthest from the evil stepmother character from the thousands of books you read growing up. In fact, she is sweet and kind, someone you could find yourself loving easily. 

You turn your head towards the window and focus on the passing sights of NYC as you head towards the area you had lived your whole life. You could point out the hospital you had been born at if you turned down the right streets. If you went up a few blocks you would pass your elementary school, your middle school, and the school you’d be starting at in a little over a week. Your whole life up until a few days ago centered on this area of New York. That bodega was the first one you had been able to run to on your own and that’s the street you take to go the back way to Betty’s old apartment. “Missing home?” Pepper asks, seeing you staring out the window with longing.

“This place is all I knew for the longest time. I spent more time in Queens than I did in Manhattan.” You say with a shrug, not wanting to sound ungrateful, but you miss home. 

“You’ve gone through a lot this week. It’s ok to miss it.” Pepper’s hand rests on yours and gives it a little squeeze. “Queens can always be home, even if you’re living in Midtown.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever give Queens up.”

“Even when I’m in Malibu, I miss New York like crazy. It’s definitely home.” You listen to what Pepper’s saying as Happy turns the familiar path to head towards your favorite thrift store. He pulls into a lot across the way from the thrift store before getting out to open the door for you and Pepper. “Now, will you show me your favorite thrift shop?” Pepper asks.

“Easily. This place is meant to be shared.” You can’t help but smile as the three of you cross the street.

“What do you like the best about Bayside?”

“They tend to have a lot of graphic tees. Both of like the band variety but also just like sassy variety. And I could live in tees if I didn’t have to wear other clothes sometimes.” You admit as you open the door and hear the familiar chime. You see Anita at the counter as you walk in.

“Y/N! We thought we were going to miss you for back to school shopping.”

“Never! I have to come to Bayside.” You say, being completely honest.

“Where’s your Nana?”

“I brought my… Pepper this time.” You say motioning to your dad’s girlfriend, but not knowing how to introduce her.

“Well any friend of Y/N is a friend of ours. We thought you might be coming by, so I set a few things aside that you might be interested in.” Anita reaches behind the counter and pulls a stack of about four t-shirts out. Pepper watches as your face lights up. “We just got them in.” You lift the top couple up to look at the bottom couple. 

“These are awesome!” The black and grey shirts look similar to things that Tony would wear, but Pepper keeps that to herself. 

“I’ve got them. You keep looking.” Happy says as he takes the shirts from your hands.

“Happy, I can carry them-”

“It’s clothes, they’re not heavy. I’ve got it.” 

“Thank you Happy.” Pepper trails a couple steps behind you as you finger through the shirts handing. The first to get pulled off the rack is a Nirvana shirt with a yellow smiley face on it. Then a blue tie dyed Pink Floyd 1973 tour shirt follows it. 

“That’s one your dad can’t even try to say he was at. Three year olds weren’t allowed.” You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile at Pepper’s comment. You find another more classic looking Pink Floyd shirt hanging on the rack a few shirts back that you add to your pile. 

“If I had been wearing that would he have said I had better music choices?”

“Probably. He’s just judgmental when it comes to music.”

“The Stones are classics!” You argue as your hands run through the racks to fall on a Sweet Child O’ Mine Shirt. “Oh this one is a winner.” It has a faded look to it and you love that in your shirts.

“Definitely so.” Pepper takes it from the rack and hands it to Happy. “To be fair to all your tastes, I think this one is needed though,” she says pulling another Rolling Stones shirt from the rack and you smile at it.

“They are my favorite.”

“Tony would die if he heard that.” You shrug. “Wanna try these on?” Pepper motions towards the pile that Happy is holding.

“Sure.” But then an Eagles Hotel California Tour 1977 shirt catches your eye. “One more for the road.” You say before snagging the shirt. You try on the shirts you had found before getting to the stack that Anita had put aside for you. You look at the four finally. The first was a grey Pink Floyd 1972 Carnegie Hall T-shirt?! Holy shit! Your mind might explode. Then there’s a black Aerosmith shirt with a boombox with wings that says ‘Let the Music Do The Talking’ which is such a big mood. Underneath that one there’s a black Nirvana Unplugged in NYC shirt which you have been looking for forever since you love that album. And last but not least there’s a classic looking Guns N’ Roses printed on black shirt in a gold font. Anita knows you well. Four of your favorite bands and to be honest four of your new favorite shirts. So far all of the shirts fit pretty well, or even fall on the large side which is how you like your t-shirts. 

Pepper knocks on the fitting room door. “I found a couple things I think you’d like Y/N.” You open the door wearing the Guns N’ Roses shirt. “Oh I like that one.”

“Really?” You’re surprised that Pepper would be into band shirts.

“You think I could date your father and not be into what he considers some of the greatest musicians of our time?” Pepper smiles at you. “But also gold is just a good color for you and your skin tone.”

“I’m not going to be Iron Man at any point.”

“Wouldn’t want you to be. However I did grab these shirts because I think your dad’s reactions will be worth it.” You look at them and laugh. 

“He’ll never let me leave the tower wearing them.”

“So wear them around the tower to bug him.” You close the door and try on the two shirts. The first is a tank top that you probably never would have looked at had all of this not happened. But Pepper was right. Tony would react to it, hopefully. Across the black fabric printed in white the shirt reads ‘I’m A Female’. Then in pink it reads ‘Fe = Iron, Male = Man” before finishing in white ‘Therefore I Am Iron Man’. You open the door to show Pepper.

“If I walked into the kitchen one day wearing this telling him I was going on a run, how much of a heart attack would I give him?” Pepper doesn’t have a chance to answer before Happy does.

“He will lock you in the tower. And possibly never let you leave.” Happy states, knowing how protective Tony is even after only knowing this kid for a few days. 

“Worth it.” You and Pepper say with a teasing grin.

“Can I take a picture? That might be my favorite shirt so far.” Pepper asks. You nod and then, shocking even yourself, you throw your hand out in the standard Iron Man pose and Pepper snaps the photo. “I love it.” You smile and turn back into the dressing room before the flush takes over your face at the affection from your dad’s girlfriend. You shake your head, pushing the thoughts that want to invade your mind out of your head as you lift the last shirt up to change into it. 

This one is grey and in white letters say ‘Screw Your “Lab Safety” I Want Superpowers”. Your dad was going to hate it for sure, knowing so many scientifically modified people. But you love it. Plus it’s so comfy. You roll the sleeves a bit and then open the door to show Pepper and Happy.

“He’s going to hate that one as well.” Happy says the moment he sees it.

“Or he’ll laugh and say show it to Steve.” Pepper says, cocking her head to one side. “Either way, we’re getting it.” In your head you know you shouldn’t buy all the shirts that you tried on, but even if you let Pepper pay for the two that she found, the remaining ones should only come up to about thirty dollars, and you think you have that much in your wallet. You collect all the clothes in the dressing room, which Happy immediately takes from you, and you follow Pepper and him towards check out when your eyes fall on the most beautiful jean jacket you’ve ever seen. 

It was a medium wash jacket, that had been loved just enough that it was no longer stiff. It had some wear and tear in some spots, but it was loose enough that it would sit perfectly on you. You have to try it on. Pepper sees you debating about the jacket, but can’t figure out why you’re debating. “It’s a gorgeous jacket. Try it on.” You take it off the hanger, gently as if it was a child instead of a jacket, and slip it over your shoulders. Rolling the cuffs up a couple times so it didn’t hang over your hands you look down at the jacket, loving that it hits an inch or two below where your shorts do. “Now that is how a jean jacket should fit.” Pepper says, smiling that you found something you clearly loved on this trip. You slide it off your shoulders and the price catches your eyes. Yes, thrifting can be great, but the jacket is still fifty dollars even at the thrift store. You don’t have that much. 

“I don’t need it.” You say, not wanting to bring up that you can’t afford it even if you did need it.

“I’m not taking no for an answer on that. A jacket that looks that perfect on you has to come home with you.” She places her hands gently on it and lifts it from your hands. 

“Pepper, really I don’t-”

“Tony can afford it and it needs a good home.” Then it hits you, Pepper’s not going to make- no let you pay for any of this.

“You found many things today.” Anita says looking at the pile Happy and Pepper had made on the counter. “This is going to look the best on you.” She places a hand on the jacket that Pepper had added. 

“She pulls it off like no one else.” Pepper agrees. Anita and Pepper chat about the weather and honestly you’re not sure what else because you just watch as the number climbs. You’ve been coming here for years and never seen the number go that high. Your heart falls into your gut when the jacket gets added. Looking in your purse, you know you have about forty dollars to your name and that wouldn’t cover even half of that right now. But Pepper hands over a black card, similar to the one that Natasha used the other day, and doesn’t even stop the conversation. It’s like this money thing doesn’t even bother her. But it definitely bothers you. Anita puts the clothes into a cloth bag and hands it to you. 

“Thanks Anita.” You smile at her, but you don’t know when you’ll be back. All you’ll remember now is feeling uncomfortable for spending Tony’s money here. Happy opens the door and you follow Pepper out of the shop. Pepper is trying to make small talk but notices you looking nowhere but the ground. She takes the bag from you and hands it to Happy. 

“Can you put this in the car?” 

“But-”

“Five minutes?” She says. And technically, Pepper is his boss, so Happy nods.

“I’ll be right across the street.” She smiles as he walks across the street. 

“So wanna talk about it?” She asks, bumping shoulders with you.

“Talk about what?”

“Why the ground is so interesting?” Pepper takes a pause trying to give you a chance to speak. “Or maybe about why you went so quiet in one of your favorite places?” Normally, you’d just keep it to yourself but for some reason, you don’t think Pepper will judge you.

“We, uh didn’t have a ton of money growing up. Whatever money we did have went to making sure we could afford rent and my insulin and making sure that there was food on the table. So once I was about eleven, some of the other people in our building would let me run errands for them or watch their younger kids and they would pay me some pocket money for doing it. And that pocket money I saved in a jar throughout the year so that once I could go back to school shopping and twice a year I could buy Nana and Pops something nice from Christmas and their birthdays. We didn’t really celebrate many holidays, but the ones we did we celebrated really small. Santa would bring me clothes while my friends would get touchpads and toys and I didn’t question it because I knew that while their families didn’t have to worry about whether or not you were going to have to choose between buying medicine you needed to live or putting food on the table.

But Nana and Pops tried to make it so I didn’t feel that. So when I got the chance to go to The Strand or Bayside, it wasn’t picking everything that caught your eye because I was the one paying for it. So I would buy one or two books or shirts because I couldn’t afford to spend all that money if I wanted to buy Christmas presents too.” You play with Queenie’s tubing, not wanting to look Pepper in the eyes as you continue. “But in the past three days, Natasha, Tony, you, whoever, have made it clear that Tony’s made of money and that he’s fine with spending it on books, phones, clothes, whatever he or anyone else wants. But there are people out there that aren’t that fortunate. 

The money that Natasha spent buying me books the other day could have paid for my Nana’s medicine for a month. Or how much you just spent on clothing for me could have bought me clothing for the whole school year and bought Nana and Pops Christmas presents. Hell I looked up how much my new phone cost Tony and it could have paid for four months of insulin. That’s sixteen vials. But more importantly that’s nearly 1500 dollars. And I bet if I lost it, he would have a new one waiting for me.” Pepper lets you continue the rant, and doesn’t let you know that he added more upgrades to your phone than the baseline one that does indeed cost as much as your medicine does. But what she would rather talk about is why does your insulin cost that much? “You guys might not care about money, but it makes me sick every time that you drop this money on me. I’m not worth it.”

“First of all, you are definitely worth it and so much more. Tony has money just wasting away in the bank and likes to waste it on the people he loves. That means he’s going to drop money on you. But coming from the lifestyle you grew up in, it’s going to take some getting used to. Plus in his mind, he has fourteen years of Christmas presents and birthdays to make up for.” Pepper watches as your eyes go wide and knows that this might be the wrong thing to say. “But Tony is also up for doing things for charity. So maybe you can come up with an initiative that he can throw money towards for you. Like maybe fighting to lower the cost of insulin for others? Because while it’s not a problem now for you to afford it, why should it cost so much for others? Tony would definitely like to fight that. And that is something that SI can also get behind as well.” You look up for the first time since finding the jean jacket back in the shop.

“Really? SI would get behind something like that?” You ask, not understanding why a tech company would get behind something like the cost of insulin.

“Tony wants to look into manufacturing things to make diabetics' lives easier, which I told him he needs to talk to you about before doing anything. But your name is part of the company. You’re a Stark now. So anything that SI does, takes an interest in what you have an interest in. So yes, the cost of insulin is something that SI will fight for too. Help me do some research on who to support and we can start the battle as one of your first introductions to the world as Tony’s daughter?” You nod, knowing this is something you’ve always wanted to help with but never had the power to do anything about. 

“Thank you.” You say, before doing something without thinking- you throw your arms around her. Her arms wrap around you, but she’s not sure what she’s being thanked for. 

“What for?”

“Listening. Being here. Being human?” You say, joking about the last one, but it feels right.

“Of course. I don’t know how to be anything else.” She says and pulls on your ponytail a bit. “Now you want to show us around your neighborhood a bit before we head back to Manhattan?”

“You want to see it?” You ask, surprised that Pepper wants to see Queens.

“It’s part of what makes you you, so yes.” Happy finishes crossing the street to be back with the two of you.

“There’s a really great coffee shop up this way. Or if we go down this way there’s an amazing sandwich shop called Delmar’s. Oh and Pops goes to play chess at this park down that way.” You point out three different ways. 

“Coffee sounds like a plan.” Pepper says. You drop your arms, not wanting to hold on to her longer than you’re allowed to but Pepper keeps an arm around your shoulder as you walk towards the coffee shop you love. It was always a treat when you got to go, but the smell alone was something you had missed. They make all their syrups from scratch and you could spend all day there reading if you were allowed. 

As you walk, you point out the book shop where you sold the books you were done with to make some extra money, the apartment building that you, Nana, and Pops lived until there was a rat infestation, and the bodega that you used to go to to stock up on low supplies. You wave to some people that you know by face alone and smile at the feeling of being home. It feels nice to share this world with Pepper, and almost makes you wish Tony was here to show him what home feels like to you. It’s not throwing money around on things you don’t need. It’s the feeling of the sun on your skin as you walk around the streets you’ve known all your life.

At the coffee shop, Pepper buys you and Happy coffee, yours iced and his hot, as well as an iced tea for herself. “So I was thinking, we could go to Buffalo Exchange to try and find you some bottoms to go with the shirts we found for you, or maybe a dress or two? That way you have some clothes until the rest of your stuff gets moved from Queens?” You don’t say anything, but you know she’s right. You only have a few more sets of outfits and half of them aren’t appropriate for school. You force yourself to take a sip of your coffee as you nod your head. “We don’t have to Y/N. We can hold off.”

“No, we should. I don’t have that much stuff left at the tower and some of it is more wear at home type stuff.”

“Do you want to make a stop at your Nana and Pops house and get some more stuff?” Pepper asks.

“Can I?” You miss your Nana and Pops so much it hurts.

“Of course. Tony isn’t trying to keep you from them. And we’re already in the area.” You can’t stop the grin from exploding on your face. You know that Nana and Pops won’t have much more baggage you can put stuff in though so you turn to Marcie, who’s working at the counter. 

“Hey Marcie, do you guys have any boxes that you haven’t broken down yet?”

“Actually yeah. We got shipments in this morning of some stuff. What size are you looking for?”

“Big enough to put some clothes and stuff in.”

“Ah moving apartments again?” Marcie had helped you with boxes when the rat situation happened. “Rats again?”

“Not rats, but something like that.” You say with a teasing smile. She walks to the back and grabs the couple bigger ones.

“Will these work?”

“Those are perfect!”

“You can have them on the condition that you still come and get coffee occasionally.”

“Deal! I’m going to go to MSST so I’ll still come by!”

“Then the boxes are all yours.” She hands them to you and Happy offers to take them from you. Marcie looks at him with confusion but you wave it off.

“Thanks Marcie!” You say before returning to the table where Pepper sits.

“I’ll bring the car up,” Happy says. “Be back in five minutes.” 

“Thanks Happy.” Pepper says as Happy takes the boxes with him as he leaves the shop.

“You seem to know all the people at your favorite shops.” Pepper comments.

“New York is more like a small town when you think about it. We all go to the same businesses over and over again. Why shouldn’t we know the people who’s shops we frequent?” You shrug. “Plus Marcie is the best person to get boxes from when you have to move buildings. Then you don’t have to pay for them.” Pepper and you both drink your cold beverages as you sit waiting for Happy. 

“Have you ever traveled anywhere?” Pepper asks, wanting to get to know you better. You shake your head.

“I’ve uh never left New York. We never really had the money.” You glance out the window. “I don’t even have a state ID, much less a passport.”

“Well we can get you an ID sweetheart, that’s easy. And knowing your dad, he’ll want to get you a passport since deciding to take last minute trips is one of his favorite things. But if you could go anywhere, where would you want to go?”

“You’re not going to like plan a trip, right? Because you’ve spent plenty-”

“Y/N, I just want to get to know you. Now if Tony asks you, I would answer on the bet that he wants to take you wherever you answer.” 

“The kid in me wants to say Disney World because who doesn’t want to go. But I think the actual answer would be the Grand Canyon. I’ve always wanted to see if it’s as big as it looks in pictures. And the third choice would be London. So many writers lived there and I want to see what inspires them to write the way they do.” You look back at your coffee. “I’m not the best at picking just one place.”

“Never said you had too.” Pepper says, trying to catch your eyes. “I think all three are wonderful ideas. Maybe we should go there, but leave Tony at home to finish the deadlines he never touches.” You look up at her with surprised eyes. “Ok, maybe he can finish them before the trips and then come along because if I steal his kid for that long, I’ll never hear the end of it. He might take my job away for stealing you for that long, if it didn’t mean he would have to start doing work again.”

“Really?”

“You’re all he talks about these days. And I don’t see that stopping anytime soon. He’s not someone that’s easy to get to know. And I would say he’s definitely an acquired taste, but once he’s in your corner, having Tony Stark have your back is sometimes greater than having Iron Man. I hope you get to learn that. Because I know he desperately wants to show you how much he already loves you.”

“But he barely knows me.”

“There’s this thing about being a parent, so I’ve heard, where you love your kid so much from the moment they enter your life. That’s how he feels, and how he’s felt about you since the moment he saw you for the first time. Every night since you entered his life he said to me ‘God Pep, I didn’t know I could love a kid so much.’ And I don’t see that stopping anytime soon.”

“But I’ve kind of treated him like garbage?”

“And you think you’re the first teenager to ever say things to their parents like that? You have a better excuse than most though. Most aren’t thrust into having parents as late into life as you were, but you’re dealing with a lot. Most people also aren’t dealing with having Tony as a father. I give you props for that alone.”

“You’re the one dating him.”

“Yes but that’s different.” Happy pulls up outside the coffee shop. “Come on. We have all the time in the world to debate who has it worse in regards to Tony.” Pepper teases you. You turn and wave to Marcie.

“Bye Marcie!”

“Good luck with the move!” She waves before returning to the order she’s in the middle of taking. You follow Pepper towards the car and climb into the backseat. Happy drives you towards the apartment he had taken-picked you up from less than a week from. 

“Would you feel more comfortable if I stay in the car?” Pepper asks as you pull up and Happy puts the car in park. If it was Tony, yes. But you like Pepper. You want her to see the place that you think of as home so you shake your head. 

“Plus I want you to meet my Nana and Pops.” You swing the door open before Happy even has a chance to open the door for you. You’re too excited to see Nana and Pops. Usually you would just run up the six flights of stairs to the apartment, but you’re not going to subject Pepper and Happy to that just because you don’t want to wait for the slow elevator. So instead you bounce on the balls of your feet as you wait for the elevator. If not for your fear of elevators dropping, you would have continued bouncing the rest of the way up. But finally, finally, the elevator arrives and you count the three doors as you pass towards home. It’s weird to not have your key so you knock on the door. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” You hear your Pops voice and you could almost cry. He opens the door and you don’t wait a moment before flying into his arms. “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He pulls you away to say something, probably like ‘there’s no way you’re my granddaughter. You’ve gotten too big,’ but you push against his arms to wrap your arms around him again. “I’m right here. Not going anywhere. I got you.”

“Who’s at the door Lou?” Your Nana calls and it sounds just like coming home now.

“It’s me Nana.” You say even though the sound is muffled by your Pops’ chest. 

“Is that you babydoll? What are you doing here?” Your Nana rounds the corner and then you're out of your Pops’ arms and into her’s.

“We’re sorry to just surprise you. But we were in the area and Y/N has been missing you.”

“Never apologize for bringing her ho- to visit.” Your Pops voice is a little rougher than normal. “You must be Pepper Potts.”

“Yes, nice to meet you. And this is Happy, or um Harold Hogan, our head of security.” In the back of your mind you place the fact that Happy’s real name is Harold of all things, but right now you’re too focused on the fact that you’re home. “Y/N also needs to get a few more clothes and things so Happy has some boxes for her to put some stuff in.”

“That’s fine. She’s always welcome to come and get things. This may not be as fancy as where she lives now, but it will never stop being her home.” Pops voice rings out and Pepper can feel that he’s not welcoming them in like he welcomes you. 

“Pepper, will you come help me get the stuff in my room?” You ask. You know Pops probably isn’t happy with the way things are working out either, but leaving Happy, he can at least go over the security plan or something. Leaving Pepper seems just mean after how nice she’s been to you today.

“Sure honey.” Pepper smiles at you. She follows you down the hallway to the door where your name is printed in block letters on a piece of computer paper. “I like this.”

“Thanks, Betty made it for me.” You pull it off the door. “Do you think I can hang it on my door at the Tower?” Pepper nods.

“If you want to, I don’t see why you can’t.” You open the door and Pepper follows you into the room that is about a quarter of the size of your room at the Tower, yet feels more at home than the Tower. “So what is coming with this time?” Pepper knows that at least with most of the books and if you want any of the furniture, they are going to have to get a few men to move it. 

“I’m thinking mostly clothing and maybe some of my books. Not all of them, but at least a few of them. Oh and there’s a blanket I’ve been missing.” You walk over to the dresser in the corner and open the bottom two drawers, which are filled with mostly distressed jeans and shorts. “All of these.” You say with a laugh.

“How about I work on putting those in this box while you get the blanket and pick out some books?” Pepper suggests. You shrug, it sounds like a good enough plan. Walking over to your shelf, you have to stop yourself from calling out to JARVIS to ask him to put on music and instead pull your phone and put on your playlist instead. Have you really gotten that used to living at the tower? Before you can get to the shelf, you spy the quilt you want sticking out from the under bed boxes. 

You pull it out and hold it close. Part of you wants to unwrap it and drape it around your shoulders, but you know that you’d be wasting precious time doing that. So instead you trace your fingers over the different triangles of fabric. Pepper looks up and sees what you’re looking at. “Is this the blanket you were missing?” You nod and she comes to take a seat next to you on the twin bed that you grew up in. “It’s beautiful. Was it handmade?” Pepper asks, but doesn’t make a move to touch it since it’s clearly special to you.

“My, uh, mom made it.” With everything that has happened in the last week, Pepper hasn’t actually heard anything about your mom besides Tony talking about how your mom was a one night stand. “She was in a recovery program the first three months after I was born to try and get her recovered. Alcohol and drugs. Part of her recovery was making this quilt. Something to focus on as she went through withdrawal. It’s part of the reason I was placed with my grandparents. I was born two and a half months early and addicted to crack. So she wasn’t that fit of a parent. But they hoped that with rehab she would get better and come home. It, um, didn’t work like they hoped. She relapsed and they found her on the streets six months later dead of an overdose.” You don’t look up as you trace your favorite triangle, the peach colored one. “This is the only thing I have of her. I’d like to think she made it for me, but I think I know deep down, she only made it because the program made her.”

“She would have been lucky to know you.” Pepper says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

“But she didn’t so…” You trail off. “But I have Nana and Pops. And I have Tony now. And I guess you and the Avengers too.”

“You got bonus family galore.” Pepper holds you close. “I got you and I’m not letting go.” She whispers into your hair as she places a kiss there.

“Thanks Pepper.” You lean into her side, before placing the quilt into the box at your feet. “I’m glad you got me.” You admit. 

It doesn’t take much longer to pack up the clothes and books you want from the room you love. There’s still other things you’ll need to come back for, but you can do that another day. You have the things you need to get you through at least the beginning of school. Before you know it, Happy is taking the boxes down to the car and you’re wrapped up in your grandparents’ arms once again. “You’re welcome anytime babygirl. You have your key for that reason.” Your Nana says into your hair. 

“I know Nana.”

“And if you need a break, you come on over. Being Stark’s daughter isn’t the end all be all.” Pops’ voice is aimed more at Pepper than at you, but you nod. 

“I know Pop.” You kiss both their cheeks. “I love you both. So much.”

“We love you too babygirl. Always have, always will.” Your Nana runs a hand through your hair. “Get going. You probably have big fancy plans for the day.”

“Still the same girl you know.” You say as you walk towards where Pepper stands. You follow her towards the door, but take one more look at your grandparents before you both start making your way downstairs. As you get outside, Pepper looks at you.

“Do you want to do more thrifting and mani/pedis or you want to call it a day? You still have next weekend? We can always do more back to school stuff then.”

“Do you mind if we don’t? I’m kind of exhausted.”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I did. Plus we can order food to the Tower and maybe watch a movie or something instead. Calm night instead.”

“That sounds awesome.” You say as Happy starts the drive back to the Tower. Going back to Manhattan took a little longer than normal, just because of the time of day. You scroll through social media, trying to take in your last day as Y/N Y/L/N. Tomorrow the news breaks about you being Tony’s daughter, so you’ll take the calm before the storm. Pepper is reading over things on her own phone, probably SI stuff if you had to guess. “Pepper?”

“Mmm-hmm?” She answers as she scrolls.

“Will the explosion from the news tomorrow be bad?” You ask before adding. “Like you dealt with when Tony announced he was Iron Man. Will this be that bad you think?” Pepper puts down her phone and looks at you.

“I don’t think this will be bad news. I think there will be questions, but that’s why SI has been putting together a lot of press packets for different situations. If the press tries to spin it in different ways, we will be ready. The most important thing we have stated in all of this, is that while Tony didn’t know about you until recently, he is very happy to be your father and he is doing everything in his power to provide the best home for you.” Pepper pauses looking for signs from you on which way you were feeling. “For now, how you feel about everything is going to stay silent because of your age and such, but eventually, if you feel up for it, we’d love to publish something about you and your dad together.”

“Why about me?”

“Because the public will want to know, but also because you are one day possibly going to be a face of SI. If that’s the path you wish to take. Again this isn’t a decision you have to make anytime soon. Right now, the focus is keeping you out of the press as much as possible.” Happy pulls into the garage as Pepper says all of this. “But I think the public is just going to be interested in learning about who you are because you are an extension of Tony and they like knowing about him.”

“I can understand that. But I don’t even feel like I know him all that well yet.”

“You will in time. I promise.” Pepper says as she walks with you towards the elevator you had left only a few hours earlier. You had grabbed the clothes from Bayside, but Happy said he would get the boxes and take them to your room for you. Upon arriving to the living room, Tony is surprisingly waiting for you and Pepper.

“My two favorite ladies, back already.”

“Finished early. Figured we could do a night in instead.” Pepper explains as Tony gives her a kiss on the cheek.

“Did you have a good day kiddo?” Tony looks towards you and you nod before turning to Pepper.

“Thanks Pepper.” You say before giving her a quick hug. “I had a lot of fun today.” 

“Of course. I had fun with you too.” Pepper’s arms wrap around you, squeezing you back. And for a moment you can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to have a mom. Yours was out of your life moments after you were born. You let yourself relax in her arms for a moment before you feel Tony’s eyes on the two of you. 

“Uh, I should go put these things away.” You pull away from Pepper and make your way towards your room, canvas bags in tow without saying anything to Tony.

“It’s not fair Pep.”

“What?”

“She hugs you.” Tony whines as he plops down on the couch. “All she does for me is make playlists called Tony Stark Can Rot. How is that fair?”

“Now how would you know what her playlists are called?”

“I asked JARVIS to play some of her music so I could know more about her since she refuses to hang out with me. He asked which playlist and started listing them. To be fair it has some great music on it. But still, I would never make a playlist called Y/N Stark Can Rot.”

“You don’t name your playlists.” Pepper points out.

“Not the point.”

“The point is you're jealous that she’s closing herself off to you.”

“Maybe I am. She’s my kid. I want to know her. I want to do everything for her and with her. But everything I try backfires.”

“So don’t try so hard.” Tony’s brows pull together as he looks up at Pepper. “You suggested her friends coming over for dinner and that worked really well.”

“Yeah worked really well in that she told me about a teacher that hated her enough to throw scissors at her.”

“She also acknowledged that you’re going to be here for her from now on. That’s a success. So try doing small things like that. Don’t make huge gestures. Don’t you dare buy her a gigantic bunny. Try to let her get to know you. And don’t try to buy your way into her life. She hates that.”

“You literally took her shopping today.”

“We went thrifting.”

“What? All of that needs to be washed immediately!” Tony starts freaking out.

“This right here?” Pepper motions towards him, “This is the kind of reaction that will push her farther away. She loves thrift shops. She told me and we went to her favorite ones to look for clothes. She opened up about her life before us Tony. That picture on your phone. That’s a moment she shared with Natasha. You need to give her a moment to open up to you.” Tony notices Happy walking by with a couple of boxes. 

“What all did you buy her today?” 

“We stopped by her grandparents’ house so she could pick up some more stuff. She mentioned she was getting low on some stuff.” Pepper motions towards what Happy is carrying. “She really misses them. I think we need to give her time to see them too.”

“I’m not keeping her from them.”

“I’m not saying you are. I’m saying I think we should schedule times so she doesn’t feel that way. Also I told her that SI would start a charity fund to fight the cost of insulin.”

“Not against that but why?”

“She was feeling really uncomfortable about how comfortable we all spend on a day to day, based on her background with money.” Pepper says, not really explaining.

“That tells me less than nothing.”

“It’s her story to share. You’ll have to wait until she wants to share it with you.” Pepper kisses his cheek. “But you have an amazing kid.”

“I know that. I just want to know her like all of you know her.” Tony says frustrated. 

“Give her time.”

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[shijiujun]

one more red light

“I’m a really good driver!” Lu Yao declared yesterday, car keys in hand.

Fucking bullshit, Chusheng thinks, his face buried in one hand, because of course, San Tu has crashed them into a tree.

(where Lu Yao doesn’t marry You Ning and go off on a honeymoon cruise at the end of ep 36, but Chusheng gifts him with the car as a reward anyway)

---

Lu Yao kissed him.

Well, he kissed him on the cheek, so it’s not really the kiss he wants, but it has to count right?

Chusheng was still lamenting earlier that he hadn’t even gotten the chance to drive the beauty of a car around yet, but seeing how happily Lu Yao is smiling right now, the amount of money he spent on the thing was well worth it.

He would do anything, if it kept San Tu smiling like that.

“Hold on, why’re you so happy?” asks Chusheng, and he can’t quite control the smile tugging at his lips either, “Do you even know how to drive?”

“Of course I’m happy!” Lu Yao scoffs. “I’m a really good driver!”

“Well I won’t believe it until I see it,” Chusheng replies, crossing his arms and raising a challenging brow at Lu Yao. “Who knows, you might just crash the car on your first day driving it.”

He knows he’s gotten Lu Yao good when the man’s eyes go wide. Pointing at Chusheng, Lu Yao nods his head sagely, “Hah, I’m not scared of you. I know what you’re doing. You and me, the car, tomorrow! You’re going to have to eat your words, and then we’re going to Bo Xin Street for dumplings!”

It would be strange if Lu Yao didn’t know how to drive considering his love for expensive things, including cars. That was the only reason why Chusheng decided on this as a gift for Lu Yao. After all, he’s bought all manner of things for the man — a watch, leather shoes, a three-piece suit set and he has given Lu Yao a wad of cash too many times to count — and a car seemed like a reasonable next gift. Still, Chusheng has never seen Lu Yao drive.

He’s a glorified babysitter, wallet, drinking buddy, work partner and more to Lu Yao, but more often than not, Chusheng is the genius detective’s chauffeur.

“We’ll see,” Chusheng grins. Then to You Ning, “You in on the bet?”

You Ning rolls her eyes, “I’m not getting in the car until you test it out for me. Besides, I’ve gotta work tomorrow.”

“Hey! Who cooks for you, huh? You didn’t ask him to test it out before you started stealing my food-“

The two begin to bicker, and Chusheng looks away when the bickering evolves into a cushion fight again. He will leave them to their petty squabbles and come over tomorrow instead. Truth be told, he is rather curious. And it’d be a nice change from always driving Lu Yao around.

(In hindsight, he should have known. And maybe he could have started off with a less expensive model.)

You Ning has an early interview the next day and disappears from their shared apartment in before Lu Yao is even awake. Both Chusheng and Lu Yao have the day off after the arduous week they had, what with Lu Yao’s older sister, the troops, and Lu Yao’s persistent father.

By the time Chusheng turns up, Lu Yao is already making breakfast for two.

“Hey, you’re right on time,” he says, bringing a pot over from the stove to the dining table. “Get the bread from the couch!”

Chusheng grabs it on his way to the kitchen, and looks appreciatively at the spread before him.

“It’s a little extravagant for breakfast,” he notes, before looking up to watch Lu Yao putter about the kitchen, humming softly under his breath. “Something’s got you in a good mood this morning.”

“Inspector Qiao just gave me my dream car, of course I’m in a good mood. Plus, you’re bringing me to Bo Xin Street for dumplings later, I’m just thanking you in advance. Grab a cup of coffee, I finally got to try out the Swiss coffeemaker I got a store to import in last week,” Lu Yao chatters on.

Chusheng shakes his head, chuckling under his breath, “You haven’t won the bet yet.”

“You’re doomed to lose this bet,” Lu Yao says confidently, settling down in the seat opposite his. “I had to drive around a lot in London too, and Dajie has two cars back at home. Just because I prefer not to drive doesn’t mean I don’t know how to drive-“

“Geez, that’s enough, eat your breakfast,” Chusheng shoves a slice of bread into Lu Yao’s mouth, because they won’t get out of the house otherwise.

===

To be fair, Lu Yao does start off pretty well. He spends a long time touching the seats and feeling the metal and leather beneath his fingertips, smelling the car and communing at a spiritual level with the automobile. Chusheng doesn’t mind; while Lu Yao toggles with the switches and wheel, looking around wide-eyed like an excited kid, Chusheng watches Lu Yao instead.

He likes it when Lu Yao is this happy. He likes it a lot.

The car starts without any trouble, and the vibration of the engine under them has them both grinning at each other. Chusheng hasn’t driven the car yet either, and it’s all new to him. He first ordered the car for himself too, before deciding to gift it to Lu Yao for solving the Norman case, and also to celebrate his sister and father finally allowing him to stay in Shanghai.

They slowly make their way through town, and just as Chusheng resigns himself to treating Lu Yao to probably three bowls of dumplings at minimum, that’s when things literally go downhill.

Lu Yao makes a right turn and starts going down a slope. Instead of stepping on the brakes, he steps on the accelerator, and they start moving downwards really, really fast.

“San Tu!” Chusheng calls, his eyes wide, “There’s a person up front what are you doing-“

“Where?”

“There! Turn the wheel, turn it-“

“Oh!”

“San Tu!”

Chusheng grabs for the wheel and pulls hard, but Lu Yao jam brakes, and the car begins to spin. They barely avoid the old man strolling up the damn hill, and they hurtle off the road into the foliage on the side. When Chusheng sees what’s right in front of them, his heart leaps to his throat, and his first instinct is to grab for Lu Yao and cover him.

As expected, they crash, and rather spectacularly.

The force of the impact slams the both of them against the dashboard, with Chusheng hissing in pain as his elbow knocks into the steering wheel.

A few minutes later, Lu Yao fidgets in his arms, where Chusheng is holding him and covering the tall man with his body. Lucky for them both, the impact force wasn’t that severe, and aside from a ruined, crushed front end of the car and cracks in the front window pane, they’re safe.

Lu Yao angles his head to the side and he’s so close. He exhales, the puff of air tickling the skin on Chusheng’s neck, causing him to shiver.

“You okay?” Chusheng asks with a frown, pulling away to look Lu Yao over.

“I’m good,” he answers, a little shaken.

Glad that San Tu is alright, Chusheng lets him go and turns to stare at the damage. It sinks in suddenly, that this really, really expensive car that cost him four months of his salary, has been totaled.

“I’m a really good driver!” Lu Yao declared yesterday, car keys in hand.

Fucking bullshit, Chusheng thinks, his face buried in one hand, because of course, San Tu has crashed them into a tree.

Lu Yao stares wide-eyed at the damage, before turning to him.

“Sorry?”

“I’m a really good driver?” Chusheng repeats what the man said yesterday, exasperated. “Do you know what being a good driver even means, San Tu?”

He’s going to have to find a repair shop and a mechanic, and the cost for repairs might be so costly that he might as well get a new car for Lu Yao instead.

Chusheng really liked this car though. He liked it so much he gave it to Lu Yao, and the idiot crashed it.

He must have been silent for too long, for there’s a tug on his sleeve the next moment. Chusheng looks up at that, only to see a sheepish Lu Yao biting at his lips, looking appropriately chatised as if he was caught putting his hand in the cookie jar. In this case, however, the cookie is a car, and Chusheng doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

“I’m sorry,” Lu Yao apologises. “I’ll… I’ll pay for the repairs. I know you liked this car a lot and I… I guess… I’m a bit rusty?”

“You almost hit an old man on the road, San Tu,” responds Chusheng wryly.

“I’m sorry,” Lu Yao repeats, inching closer. “Don’t be angry with me. Please? I’ll pay for the damages, or… or I’ll just get a new one for you. I mean, I’ll have to borrow the money from you first and then pay you back, but give me half a year and I can do it-“

Chusheng slips his arm around Lu Yao’s waist and drags him closer, and cuts the infuriating man off effectively by sliding his mouth across Lu Yao’s lips.

He doesn’t know how long he kisses Lu Yao for, all he knows is that he can’t get enough, and they only pull apart when people actually come over to check on them.

Chusheng can’t help feeling satisfied at Lu Yao’s very, very red and wet lips.

“Hey, you guys okay?” the old man who they nearly hit earlier asks, knocking at the window with his walking cane.

“We’ll continue this at home,” Chusheng says, eyeing Lu Yao.

===

At home, Lu Yao applies ointment to Chusheng’s very bruised elbow, and cannot help but press a kiss to the mottled skin. The last of Chusheng’s control snaps then, and he grabs Lu Yao’s arm, tossing him onto the bed behind them.

(Chusheng does order another car for his San Tu the next day. Something cheaper though, they’ll work their way up.)

[kaistarus]

What It Takes To Survive--Hunger Games AU

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

Words: 5.7K

Notes: This was a request from @deneuves​ and it took a while to complete(forgive me, but it got out of hand lol) Not all the references are accurate I’m sure, but I did my best. Please enjoy :3

Summary: Bakugou had been training his entire life to become a tribute while you stayed on the sidelines wanting nothing to do with it. What are you supposed to do when there’s a fluke and you’re sent into the arena with no training? And with the boy who you’d finally started working out your feelings with?

You watched his lips form your name with desperation in his eyes, but all you could hear was a faint buzz. You wanted to reach for him except a weight immobilized both your arms and you couldn’t move. Any senses that remained were too slow for you to use properly and you felt helpless as you watched Bakugou’s eyes become watery.

You wanted to reassure him, lie that things would be okay, but you struggled to even form words. He was screaming now. You could tell by the ugly crease he always got between his brows. You were growing dizzier by the second and just wishing you could grab his hand one last time.

This wasn’t fair. You kept repeating it to yourself as Bakugou sneered at the people who were watching you suffer for their amusement.

This wasn’t how your story was supposed to end.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

          It was your least favorite part of the day: gym training. You were off in the farthest corner with Midoriya practicing how to throw knives while he sat on the ground beside you taking notes. Although you tried your hardest, focusing intensely on the body’s center, only two of the ten knives hit their target.

          You let out a frustrated growl and stomped over to the practice dummy.

          “Don’t get upset,” Midoriya said without looking up. “It’s not like we’ll be picked to compete anyway.”

          You raised a brow after collecting the fallen knives. “You used to be so eager to get that number one spot. Where’d that fire go?”

          He lowered his notebook and gave you a dead stare. “I grew up and realized I didn’t want to die just for our district’s monetary benefit.”

          “Wish other people could realize the same thing.”

          He tilted his head before a buzzer rang throughout the gymnasium signaling the end of another sparring match. You both watched Bakugou Katsuki hop off the center mat leaving a classmate flat on his back and out of breath. Bakugou, however, looked unphased and was smirking wildly with confidence. You frowned. It hurt to see that your childhood friend turned into the District 2 show dog.

          A group of girls nearby start to whisper and point towards the center ring. You look back at Bakugou who was now taking a long swig of water and the girls started to giggle while shoving each other lightly. A sneer formed on your face. You turn back towards the target and throw a knife.

          A perfect headshot.

          “Hey! Turns out jealousy is your motivator.” Midoriya nodded his head before scribbling something down. “Who knew…”

          “Wha—” You looked between him and the practice dummy. “I wasn’t—what do you—jealous? About what?”

          Midoriya rolled his eyes. “It’s been ten years. Don’t even pretend like you don’t—”

          “Deku!” You both turned at the rough voice. Bakugou was looking over with his cocky smirk which was never a good sign. “Get over here so I can kick your ass.”

          Midoriya pouted, mumbling curses as he placed his notebook beside him. You just sighed and placed a hand on his shoulder. Bakugou always got too conceded when he was on a winning streak, and the teachers never bothered telling him what to do anymore. You were getting sick of it.

          “Fight someone else Bakugou.” You scowled.

          Bakugou raised a brow, smirking. “Yeah? Who ya thinking?”

          “It’s not a big deal. He never goes all out.” Deku looked at you wearily, but you shook your head. Bakugou taking it easy wasn’t the issue. The point was him always getting whatever he wanted just because he could.

          “You gonna fight him?” One of the girls beside you suggested. You looked back at Bakugou and his expression fell for a moment. A round of people shouting in agreeance rang before Bakugou scoffed.

          “Like I’d bother.” He sneered, turning around and walking out the gym. Your face was red as several people laughed. You clenched your fists to help bite back the burning sensation in your eyes.

          “He doesn’t mean it.” Deku frowned, picking his notebook back up. You shook your head at him.

          “Why do you always defend him?”

          Deku mulled over your question carefully, so long you assumed he was ignoring you. “Kacchan has a reason for what he does.”

          No matter how much you wanted to you could never hate Bakugou Katsuki. He was violent, arrogant, and downright disrespectful; but every time he looked at you, you couldn’t fight the truth. You couldn’t erase the years of memories you two had created. Days spent racing through town with Midoriya while you annoyed shop owners for sweets or running through backyards pretending to be tributes branding twigs before understanding what the games truly were. Years of laughter and friendship that were too poignant for you to wipe clean as easily as he had.

          You tilted your head back to where the explosive boy had marched out; just wishing you could understand him for once in your life.

*~*~*~*~*~*

          When he suddenly stopped meeting with you and Midoriya and started focusing on entering the arena you did your best to leave him in the past. When he decided that it was better to play with real swords than brandish sticks and rocks or prank the neighborhood bakers you wanted to push him away. He changed from the person you had admired into something you hated, but you were never able to shake those brave smiles and wild laughter from the younger version of the asshole he’d become.

          You were currently wandering the school’s halls, having forgotten a textbook, when you heard sounds coming from the gymnasium. The room should have been locked at this hour, so you crept towards it. Bakugou was inside, slashing a practice dummy apart with a machete. You watched with an aching heart at the fierce look in his eyes as he zoned out on the target, mindless in his actions. Was there even a shred of the old him in there or had it all been destroyed?

          “The fuck are you looking at?”

          Your eyes shot wide and you straightened up. You hadn’t even realized you spaced out and you couldn’t think of any excuse because the truth was you were watching him like a creep, and there would be no recovery. You cursed internally as he stared at you expectantly for the answer you didn’t have.

          “I don’t understand.” You went for, which was wrong, and you regretted immediately.

           “I already know you’re an idiot, but why are you being an idiot in my gymnasium?” He raised an eyebrow. You narrowed your eyes. His gymnasium? That statement made your heart drop to your stomach.

          “You’re smart, Bakugou. You’ve always been smart. Why are you putting so much effort into this?” You gestured around the gym. “You must know what it really stands for.”

          He took a deep breath. “I don’t have a lot of options.”

          “Killing people is really the best option you can—”

          “Yes.” He looked you dead in the eye and the intensity made you take a step back. “I’ve been raised to do this since I was four (Y/N). You have opportunities, but all I have is this.”

          “You could find something. You’re obviously talented I’m sure—”

          “Fuck!” He ran his hands through his hair. “I can’t… The second I started showing promise that’s it. Whether I fucking want to or not I’m going in that arena. You and Deku were always too weak you never had to worry about it. These fuckers went straight to my parents (Y/N) I never had a choice.”

          Your mouth hung half-open in shock. That must have been what Midoriya meant when he said that Bakugou had his own reasons, but you never could have imagined…

          “I’m sorry. I didn’t know…”

          “Yeah. No fucking shit,” he rubbed his palms against his eyes then looked at you confused before wiping your cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you were crying. “Don’t fucking do that. You weren’t supposed to care anymore.”

          “I wasn’t… what?”

          He took a deep breath. “I stopped talking to you and Deku when I figured it out. It was supposed to make things easier.”

          You felt your heart stop at the confession and you shoved him backward. “You can’t just walk out of people’s lives! That’s not your decision to make.”

          “I was going to come back.” He said. “Just… after I made sure I won.”

          You thought about how intensely he had always trained and how suddenly that change had happened. You had always assumed it was because of his need for attention, but it was because he wanted to live. Even now he was spending nights in the training room rather than at home. You brought your gaze to your feet, unable to face him.

          “I hate you…” You mumbled, half-assed and insincere. It was for walking out your life, for one day entering that arena, and for the fact that you didn’t hate him at all. You never had and you never would.

          You clung tightly to your new dress as you walked home. Although you would not be picked tomorrow it was still important that you looked presentable for the cameras—your district had a representation to uphold. Your mother had spent good money on the shimmering blue piece in your arms, and normally you wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it, but you couldn’t let her money go to waste.

          “That was the plan.” He scoffed.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

          It had already been six months since you spoke to Bakugou in the gymnasium and already so much has changed. Tomorrow he would be leaving and although you wanted to believe that he would return home, you still couldn’t hold back the pain that overcame you when you imagined watching him on the television. No matter what happened out there the Bakugou you knew wouldn’t be coming back.

          The lights were on in his home as you walked past, and you debated stopping by to say something. He probably had plenty of people over tonight, so there was no reason for you to bother him. He wouldn’t want to see you anyway after you insulted his very being all those nights ago. If he had he wouldn’t have gone right back to ignoring you as if nothing had ever happened.

          As those thoughts filtered through, you were pulled roughly by the arm and dragged off the main road towards back alleys. Panic flooded your system; your district was filled with dangerous people who were skilled with multitudes of weaponry and martial arts. You were as good as dead. You went to swing at your attacker but stopped short when you saw messy ash-blonde hair.

          “Bakugou?”

          “Quiet.” He kept looking around frantically while you both ran, and you became panicked for a separate reason. What were you running from? He eventually stopped in the middle of an alleyway after reassuring himself you were completely alone.

          “Are you… okay?” You took in his disheveled look. His hair was sticking in every direction and he had large bags under his eyes. He looked awful. His eyes snapped to your face and he scanned it slowly.

          “I’m leaving tomorrow.”

          You blinked several times. “I know.”

          “I… I’m going to have to kill people.” He looked down at his shaking hands. You reached for one and held it within your small grasp, rubbing it soothingly with your thumb.

          “I know.” You whispered.

          “I don’t…” He frowned frustratedly. “I didn’t…” He took a shaky breath and leaned his forehead on your shoulder which made you tense. When his body started to shake lightly you relaxed and started running a hand through his coarse locks. You knew he wasn’t talking for you, but for himself. So, you stayed like this until he was able to stand again. His eyes glistened from unshed tears, but you wouldn’t acknowledge them.

           Instead, you smiled and wiped the stray streams left by the ones that had managed to leak down his face, and he furrowed his brows. He watched you move with calculating eyes and suddenly as if a great realization had struck him, his eyes widened. Before you had the chance to question him, he was leaning down to press his lips against yours and you were jumping back in surprise, smacking your head against the wall behind you.

          “Fuck,” he reached toward your head but pulled his hand back to run through his hair stressfully. “I’m sorry. I just—I couldn’t not… I don’t know if I— I’m sorry. Fuck.”

          You didn’t know what to say. So much was happening so fast, and you were already having a hard time processing your own feelings let alone adding his into the mix. But… In front of you was a broken boy. Someone scared to death that they might not have a future and they were looking at you like you were the answer to their pain.

          And you couldn’t turn him away. Not now.

          So, you grabbed the sides of his face and pulled him down for a proper kiss. It was sloppy, bad, and extremely obvious that you both lacked experience; but it was raw and real, and you don’t think you’ll ever experience this kind of passion where your heart wants to explode again in your life. He tightened his arms around you, and you didn’t attempt to fight back the tears that streamed down your cheeks. You weren’t even sure if you had true feelings for this boy yet, or if this was nothing more than a desperate send-off. But you did know that nothing had ever felt safer than this moment in his arms, and nothing had been colder than the moment he pulled away from your lips.

          “I’m going to win,” he whispered. This time he spoke it like a promise, to who you didn’t know or care. It didn’t matter.

          You were standing amongst the familiar faces of girls you’d known since birth. Everyone was quiet today and the air was heavy as they waited for names to be drawn, even those who wished they were in Bakugou’s position were solemn. Your eyes remained on his broad shoulders as he kept up his usual bravado for the cameras; the girl beside him, however, looked as though she was going to vomit.

          “I know,” you replied, kissing him for the third but not final time that evening. When you finally managed to drag yourself home it was way past your curfew, and you found yourself sneaking in through your bedroom window. In the morning you did your best to avoid the knowing glances from your parents.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

          Eventually, the woman from the capital walked upon the stage and called out one of the boys’ name, Bakugou volunteered the moment they asked, and your heart rate spiked since it was closer to when he would be gone, possibly forever. It hurt. You didn’t even notice your own name being called until the girl beside you nudged you forward. You walked mindlessly, catching a panicked look from Bakugou who let his false confidence slip. You stepped onto the stage and gave a reassuring smile to your family and Midoriya because this was only until the real contender came forward, you were only a placeholder.

          “Do we have any volunteers?”

          Your smile started to slip at the ever-growing silence and the girl in front of you had her hands gripping her hair, breathing heavily. The cameras were on her, but nothing came from her mouth. You slowly processed what was happening and turned to Bakugou who appeared devoid of all emotion.

          “Well, no female volunteers from district 2.” The woman smirked at you. “There’s a first time for everything, I suppose.”

          Shouts of protest arose as hands shot into the air, but the woman waved them away. There was a time and place and the audience hadn’t been punctual, so their volunteering wouldn’t be counted. It would be you going into the arena.

          It was obvious to the country that you weren’t properly trained to compete. Your only advantage was being raised in district 2, but that still only had you scoring in the middle of the group. You were a below-average fighter by district 2 standards which put you at a greater disadvantage since that made you extremely unlikable in the capital’s eyes. If you were lucky, they would want to keep you around for curiosity’s sake, but more than likely they would want to be rid of you immediately.

          You bit your tongue till a metallic taste flooded your mouth in hopes the cameras wouldn’t notice your need to cry.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

          If it wasn’t for Bakugou receiving the highest score and acting like a complete alpha male around the other tributes, you probably would be even worse off. Although he hadn’t spoken to you since you had stepped foot on the bullet train, he was still sticking close to your side anytime someone went near you. The entire capital was eating up his personality and you felt miserable at each event you partook in. If he wasn’t wasting his energy on you Bakugou really could have a chance at winning this year.

          You knew it was selfish of you to reach out to him when he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. Logically, you understood this was best for both of you, but tonight was possibly the last night you would ever have; you couldn’t spend it staring out the window of a foreign room that reeked of inhumane isolation. So, selfishly you stood outside his room with your fist raised trying to gather the courage to knock.

          You took a breath, readying yourself for possible rejection when the door slid open and Bakugou stood before you silhouetted by a radiant, artificial moonlight. Your eyes went wide, and your face flushed as you started to stutter.

          “Wha—what are you doing up?” You asked lamely.

          “Pee.” He started looking you up and down before glancing down the hallway. “Why are you outside my door?”

          You racked your brain for a not weird answer to why you had been standing there for going on fifteen minutes, but you had nothing. “You’ve been ignoring me…”

          The words sounded so much worse when you said them aloud. You didn’t know how else to phrase it in the middle of the night when you were running on little sleep and high anxiety.

          He checked the hall one more time before pulling you into his room. You felt your face turn a deep shade of red. Now really wasn’t the time to be freaking out about being in a boy’s bedroom.

          “They have ears everywhere,” he whispered. “We can’t just… I can’t let them use you against me.”

          You stared dumbfounded as he frustratingly sneered at his feet. You hadn’t even thought about them listening to your conversations before the games, but it made complete sense that they would look for information to manipulate the players. He really had thought of everything when preparing himself all these years. You nodded your head and glanced back to the door, taking a deep breath.

          “This sucks.”

          He snorted, hesitating before grabbing your hand. “Understatement of the fucking century.”

          You looked at your interlocked fingers and let yourself relish in the warmth, rolling around the thought that this may be the last time you get to do this. You were surprised at the level of affection he displayed when he gently placed his forehead against yours.

          “I’m not going to let you die, okay?” He whispered. You furrowed your brows and struggled to grasp at words before he was pulling away and ruffling his messy hair. “You should rest. We have a fucked day tomorrow.”

          You nodded slowly, allowing him to guide you out by the small of your back. You said goodnight to each other quietly and once you crawled back into your too-large bed you felt your heart begin to twist as the implications of his words hit you.

          One of you was going to die in the next few days, but it wasn’t going to be him. You weren’t the one who had prepared for this day and you weren’t going to let him waste his life trying to protect you. He had a chance and you didn’t.

          Bakugou held your arm gently, rubbing some sort of capital healing salve on the cut you’d just received on your bicep. You were both covered in grime, a layer of sweat coating your bodies and slicking your hair into wild styles. Splotches of blood were smeared across his face and you’d been too exhausted to think about who it belonged to anymore. It didn’t matter.

          Bakugou could think whatever he wanted, but he wasn’t going to die for you. Not if you could help it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

          He dug through his knapsack and pulled out a roll of bandages to tie around your wound, fastening it till you winced. You took in the deep circles under his eyes, the gauze wrapped around his leg, and bruises along his jaw. You grabbed his wrist as he reached for more supplies—his supplies. He’d been wasting everything on you since you’d arrived there.

          “Bakugou… we can’t keep—”

          “Don’t.” He stood, tossing everything back into the bag. He handed you the small daggers that’d just been used to slice your arm and some dried meat. “These are yours now. Bitch barely had anything on her.”

          You shivered at the mention of the girl from district 1. The crazy look in her eyes as she came at you full sprint with a bloodthirsty grin. You were as good as dead if it wasn’t for Bakugou…

          A cannon went off. In the sky, a boy’s dangerous smirk flashed briefly. Bakugou let out a relieved breath—it was someone he’d tussled with early in the games who’d inflicted the only serious injury he had. You also felt relief that the strongest competitor he faced was out of the arena, simultaneously it made your stomach churn that you were both getting elated over other’s dying. What had this place done to you?

          “There’s only a few left now…” You pointed out while rotating your fists with the knives in your grasp, trying to mimic how the girl had moved with such ease.

          “Yeah,” a smile spread across Bakugou’s face. “There’s only two more and then it’s just—”

          “Just us?” You raised a brow. Bakugou looked at you for a moment before sneering and turning away. He finished packing things up and tossed the bag on his back. “Bakugou we need to split up before we have to—”

          “I can’t have you wandering around here yourself. You’ll humiliate our district.” He growled. You took a deep breath because that’s the same excuse he’s been using since you entered the arena. “I’ll figure it out…”

          “There’s nothing to figure out Bakugou.” You rolled your eyes. “One of us has to die and—”

          “Shut up!” He shouted aggressively and you just sighed dejectedly. He ran a hand roughly through his hair and looked you in the eyes. “We’re going to the lake. We need more water.”

          You looked after him crestfallen as he stomped ahead of you. You wished you could wrap your arms around him and console him, but there was nothing you could say for comfort. There was nothing to make this situation better. You wanted to walk in the opposite direction, but you didn’t have the strength to leave—mentally or physically. You were too scared and too selfish.

          You had been preparing yourself for this moment since that girl was too scared to take the place as the true tribute from your district. You knew you were going to die, whether at your own hand or by someone in the arena, you knew it had to be you. However, mental preparations didn’t make facing a reality like this any easier.

          You hoped these few moments together—this short time—would be worth it.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

          You could tell the moment you started dying. There was never a second you questioned it. The pain you had created in your upper abdomen from the knives Bakugou had given you slowly faded as all sensations lifted from your body. Your limbs grew heavier by the second, and your mind was becoming muddled as you had to consciously fight to get the thoughts you needed.

          The boy hovering above you, who you connected to be Bakugou, was pressing down on your stomach. He looked so beautiful. Was it weird to think he looked beautiful with mud and dirt smeared across his cheeks, his hair slick with days of grease and skin covered in blood that wasn’t his own? You wished he’d stop crying though.

          Why was the cute boy crying?

          Your mind continued to grow foggy and your vision started to weaken. Suddenly there were two Bakugou’s blurred and you felt like giggling, but couldn’t manage, coughing instead. Crimson liquid splattered on the boy’s forearms and he froze with widened and frantic eyes.

          This boy was really cute. What was his name again?

          Your arm felt so heavy and numb. You wanted to tell the boy to get off your arm so that you could move, but again you couldn’t find your voice. He was saying something, but you couldn’t hear so you tried smiling instead. He looked so sad. You wished he would smile.

          The boy… Bakugou. That was his name.

          Bakugou started shouting something at the sky, which you thought was silly because the sky can’t talk. His eyebrow was creased, and you somehow knew he was being really loud even without hearing his volume. You wanted to know what he was saying, but everything was just so dull—colors, sounds, feelings—nothing was right. You couldn’t remember a lot and that really frustrated you, but you felt something poking through the fog, like there was something really important you needed to do.

          You felt water on your cheeks and were confused. Was it raining? No… you were crying.

          You focused on the boy—Bakugou—who was talking to himself frantically as he dug through a backpack seated beside him and words started to flood into your mind. They seemed silly since you don’t remember much about this guy, but your chest ached in a different sort of pain and you decided to fight past it get them out.

          “Bakugou,” you croaked, and he quickly moved to you, starting to talk rapidly and poke at various parts of you. “I.. love…”

          That’s the most you could weakly get out before your coughing fit ensued. It seemed like enough because the boy—B something—seemed to freeze for a moment before a serious look took over his face. You managed a weak smile. His eyes looked so determined and cute.

          You saw him reach for a knife lying beside you in the grass and felt panic flood through you. You wanted to do something to stop him from whatever he seemed set on, but you couldn’t move. You couldn’t talk. You couldn’t do anything.

          You saw him give an ugly scream at the sky, unshed tears shining in his eyes, as he lifted the knife into the air.

          You felt a dull ache spread across your abdomen as consciousness filtered into your body. You blinked slowly, squinting at the bright lights that bounced against the pure white walls and curtains surrounding you. You fought for a semblance of an idea on where you could be, but nothing came to you. As you tried to sit up, pain shot through you and you winced, letting out a soft moan in agony. It was then that you realized how many IVs were attached to your wrist.

          Then the world faded to black.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

          Where were you?

          A distant shouting came from the hallway that gradually increased in volume. It was an unmistakable sound.

          Bakugou.

          “You said I could fucking see her.” He yelled. You heard a quiet voice attempting to calm him, but he cut them off. “I don’t give a shit. I did your fucking interview so where the hell is the room!?”

          Your door was thrown open seconds later and Bakugou stormed in wearing a capital tailored suit. It was enough for you to question the realism of where you’d woken up with your already foggy mind slow to process everything. He was at your side quickly, throwing his arms around you and pulling you close. You winced at the embrace and he immediately let go.

          “Are you okay? What hurts? When did you wake up? Do you know what they’re giving you? Where the fuck is the chart… fuck I’m so happy you’re here. I thought they were lying to me and—”

          “Am I dead?”

          He halted his search around the room for your medical chart and just stared at you. A weak smile formed on his face. “No.”

          “I vividly remember dying…” You observed your surroundings again, finally piecing them together to form a hospital room. “Did… did we win?”

          He came back to your bedside, carefully cradling your face in his hands and bringing your forehead against his. “We lived. I figured it out.”

          “Bakugou… what… what happened?”

          He sighed. “I just… said some things and threatened some people.”

          You pushed him back by the shoulders and held him at a distance. “You threatened some people? What the hell do you mean you—”

          “Look, I did what I had to.” He took your hands into his and squeezed them lightly. “I don’t regret it.”

          You regarded him carefully, scanning his face for answers but still too dizzy to do complex thinking. You nodded your head, but your stomach was in knots as various consequences came to your mind. It was child’s play for them to make people’s lives miserable, you had both found that out the hard way these past weeks, they could really hurt him if he had done something stupid.

          “How did you—"

          Someone in a long coat entered the room to check you over and even though they ‘encouraged’ Bakugou to leave the room he very aggressively denied their suggestion. Even though all of you was still in pain the doctor had okayed you for an incredibly unprofessional discharge which had left Bakugou eagerly carrying you out of the room. You realized, as they failed to prescribe you painkillers, that this was the beginning of the neglect the capital had in store.

          You were forced into an uncomfortable outfit and Bakugou ensured you it was temporary for the short trip to the bullet train. It was tight in all the wrong areas, something you had a hunch was intentional, and from the fierce rage in Bakugou’s eyes, he felt the same. You were ushered to the train and Bakugou ignored anyone asking questions, having already faced an interview that morning he told you to do the same. You had a hard time following what was happening and could only focus on how you really needed a nap.

          Once you were safely on the train that would take you home you were able to change into comfortable clothing and plop onto a couch where Bakugou was anxiously waiting. He still had large bags under his eyes, and you wondered if he had been able to sleep at all since the games had ended. You should probably both take a nap. Instead, you asked him to play the interview he kept mentioning so you could see the end of this year’s hunger games and finally understand what the hell was going on. Finally, you could jog some of your memories and learn why you’re not dead.

          He was hesitant but found the interview repeatedly playing the main television because of course, the capital would be so kind to them. He explained that the game makers wanted just him for the interview to really sell the district 2 bad boy love story the capital idiots had become so obsessed over. You were taken aback by the statement but didn’t know where to begin asking for an explanation. You hoped the recording could speak for itself.

          It was a surreal experience watching yourself nearly die. The memories of your body going numb and you losing grasp of reality had you subconsciously curling into Bakugou’s side. You saw yourself give a love confession and you turned red because you hadn’t remembered that happening. You felt your eyes burn with unshed tears as you watched Bakugou whisper your name and gently shake you, begging you to respond, calling you an asshole for confessing and then leaving him like that. You wanted to punch him when he started cursing at the game makers before picking up a knife off the ground and aiming it toward himself. Then the screen went black and it was just Bakugou and Caesar.

          He fabricated a story about how they had barely known each other as kids, but he hadn’t really thought about her since then. He obviously had never imagined a fluke happening where she’d become a tribute and it wasn’t until the arena that his feelings started to develop. The confession from you just kind of finalized it for him and he couldn’t imagine a world without you in it anymore—it wouldn’t be worth living. The entire audience was clapping and cooing. You were watching with a mouth half-open because Bakugou was one hell of an actor when he needed to be.

          “It’s not like it was a complete lie,” he said, nuzzling his cheek against the top of your head. You still had a hard time believing this was real. That you were allowed this moment of peace after everything you’d been through.

          “Which part?” You mumbled.

          “Loving you,” he shrugged. “It wouldn’t have been worth coming back after figuring that out.”

          You rolled your eyes, looking up at him as he gave you a dopey smile. “You’re an idiot.”

          “Maybe,” he said as he leaned down to kiss you. You placed a hand on the side of his face, holding him there. Your heart raced uncontrollably, and you knew this was it. That whatever was going to come next would be worth it. You had faced hell together and no matter what the capital tried to do you’d be able to face it if you had each other.

[starrybethany]

Clayton Keller: Part 2

Word count: 2168

I look over in surprise as my front door opens, unsure of who it would be this early in the morning after a long night out. Betsy steps into my apartment, sending me a red-lipped smile as she closes the door behind her and steps out of her heels.

“Um, what time did you leave the club and why do you look like you’re going back at, uh,” I glance over at the clock, “Nine o’clock in the morning. Also, why the hell did you just barge into my apartment without knocking? I have so many questions.”

She rolls her eyes, tugging her pencil skirt down as she walks over to my pantry, opening it and pulling out the package of Oreos.

“If you eat any of those you have to buy me a new package. Don’t you dare mess with my Oreos,” I warn her.

“I have to go grocery shopping today anyways,” she waves me off, pulling herself up onto the stool next to me. “Roger called an emergency meeting this morning so guess who had to show up at the office at seven A.M., hungover as hell?”

“And you came over to my apartment after, why exactly?” I question, scrolling through the article of ‘seven easy ways to make money online.’

“I wanted us to suffer together,” she shrugs, laughing and pointing at number five. “I like this one, you’d for sure earn a lot of money if you sold your nudes.”

I click back to go to my Google search, mumbling to myself, “I don’t even know why I’m looking this up, I already found a good way to make money.”

“You did?” Betsy asks, making my head snap towards her in shock. I totally forgot that she’s here. “What is it?”

“Um, I don’t know how you’re going to feel about this,” I admit, turning my body towards her. “Because you always joke about it so I don’t really know what you think about it.”

“What is it?” She raises her eyebrows, plucking an Oreo out of the package. “Are you becoming a prostitute?”

“Close…”

“A sugar baby?”

I don’t respond so Betsy looks up from admiring her Oreo, mouth dropping in shock when she sees the look on my face.

“Oh my god, Y/N, what? You’re a sugar baby now?”

“I guess that’s the technical term,” I confess.

“Wait, for who? Let me see the picture of the guy. I didn’t know you were into older men, damn, is he at least cute? Or good in bed, hopefully? Do you know, have you met him yet? Did you sign up for one of those websites or-””Oh.”

“What? What’s ‘oh?’” Betsy questions, looming over my shoulder to stare at my laptop screen.

I pulled up Instagram while she was spewing questions at me to show her a picture of Clayton, and I guess I haven’t checked the app since last night because there’s now a notification that he requested to follow me.

“He’s the guy you were dancing with and talking to at the bar last night,” Betsy gasps dramatically, hitting my arm. “He’s young! And cute! And an athlete so you know he’s hella rich.”

“Seven million a year,” I murmur.

“What?” Her eyes are practically bulging out of her head. “Girl, hook me up with a teammate. How the hell did you become this guy’s sugar baby? No offense.”

“Well he asked me on a date, I said no, he found out that I need money and offered it,” I recap.

“How do you not want to date this man?” She screeches, clicking on a picture of him and another hockey player.

“Stop yelling, this is why Debbie hates me.”

She ignores my words. “I mean, look at his necklace chain peeking out from his shirt, Y/N, he’s hot as hell.”

“I’m not looking to date right now, Betsy, I’m young, I want to party and let loose.”

She rolls her eyes and grumbles about it but doesn’t make many other protests. She watches as I confirm his follow request and follow him back.

“Does Tyler know?” She inquires.

“No, Tyler told me not to bother him the rest of the weekend because he’s getting dicked down,” I answer.

“Are you getting dicked down this weekend?”

“I don’t know, he hasn’t texted me at all.” I look over at my phone, like it would make a noise now that I made that comment. “He said that he was going to make up the contract and get back to me sometime this weekend.”

“Who does he play for? The Arizona Coyotes?” She squints at the screen, typing something in on her phone. “Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them. Hannah fucked one of the married guys on this team while his wife was in the kitchen.”

“That’s fucked up,” I mumble, scrolling through his profile.

“Yeah. Okay, so they have a game against the Columbus Blue Jackets today, but that’s at seven so he should be getting back to you soon.” She picks my phone up, staring at my lock screen of us at a wild party a couple of weeks ago. “I’ll figure this out, Y/N, don’t you worry.”

“I’m not worried at all,” I raise my eyebrows at her, closing my laptop and grabbing my phone as I make my way to the couch. “In fact, I think I may take a little nap if you don’t mind.”

“Okay I added the team on snapchat,” she says, “And they’re in practice right now. So he should text you after practice.”

“Hey, can you shut up if you’re going to be here a while?”

“Actually, Brandon just send me a booty call. So I’m going to head out.”

“Close the door on your way out!” I holler after her.

~

Clayton: Hey Y/N, it’s Clayton

I can’t help but bite back a smile. I mean, obviously, we exchanged numbers and I have him saved in my contacts, who else would it be?

Y/N: Hi Clayton

Clayton: I had the time today to create the contract if you would like to come over and sign it

Y/N: Send me your address

He shares his location with me and I text him that I’ll be there in a half an hour. It’s all a part of my plan to make him wait. Since this is the first time that we’re hooking up I want to look somewhat presentable, so I check to make sure I’m wearing matching lingerie.

I pull a plain T-shirt and a nice pair of skinny jeans that shows off my ass, putting on minimal makeup and slipping my shoes on.

When I show up to the address Clayton sent me I’m just about on time.

Clayton opens the door with a slight smile on his lip, stepping to the side and wordlessly motioning me into his house.

“Nice place you got here,” I compliment, stepping in and looking around the large living area.

“Yeah, I share it with one of the guys on the team,” he tells me, closing the front door and making his way to what I assume is the kitchen.

I raise my eyebrows, following him. “So your teammate will hear us fucking?”

He laughs. “He’s barely home, it’s fine. So here’s the contract.”

I step forward to read over the rules.

Once a week Clayton will make a payment to Y/N of $500 cash.

The weekly payment is excluding the purchase of clothes, dinners, vacations, etc.

In return Y/N will do romantic things (such as have sex, go on dates, etc.) with Clayton.

Y/N will listen to Clayton’s demands.

The encounters will take place at both parties' places of living.

“I’m not listening to all of your demands,” I say aloud, giving him a look. “There are some things that I just will not do.”

He sighs but edits the rule to say ‘to a certain extent.’

“Also, I don’t want you sleeping over at my apartment. We can have sex there, yeah, but you can’t sleep over,” I command.

“Why not?”

“Because my friends tend to break into my apartment early in the morning and if you met them you would be scared away,” I respond. He laughs and I give him an offended look. “I’m serious!”

“Okay, fine,” he sighs but writes the new rule down.

We look over the contract together, confirming that it’s what both of us want.

“So are we doing this?” I question, looking over at him.

He gives me an expression of surprise. “Right now?”

“Well, yeah,” I say. “What’s a better time to start than right now?”

He shrugs. “Alright.” And before I can even react, tugs his T-shirt over his head and throws it onto the floor.

“Clayton,” I giggle nervously, shy for probably the first time in my life. I can’t stop my eyes from staring at his abs. Wow, how is it fair for one man to be so perfect? He’s rich, he’s athletic, he’s hot- he’s probably smart, too.

I snap out of my thoughts, forcing my eyes to move up to his face. He’s already smirking by the time we make eye contact and I force the eye roll that’s begging to come out down.

“Come here,” he orders, his voice suddenly hushed.

I don’t even have to tell my feet to move, they push me forward until my chest is pressed against his. His large hands grip my hips and I feel the need to hold my breath, looking up into his shimmering green eyes.

His head moves down slowly and I hold back from pushing mine forward, instantly connecting our lips. Soon, our lips connect and the wait was worth it.

I feel like all of the oxygen is getting sucked out of my lungs- like I could kiss Clayton forever and it still wouldn’t be enough. Our lips glide slowly against one another as my hands place themselves on his chest, blatantly feeling him up.

He pushes me gently into the kitchen counter and I take the hint, jumping up on it without disconnecting our lips. My arms move to wind themselves around his neck, pulling him in as close as he can get between my legs as his hands slide to my ass, gripping it and squeezing it.

My lips move from his to place soft kisses down his cheek and jaw to his neck, sucking a hickey right below his ear. He moans at the action, lifting me up with ease.

“What are you doing?” I squeak out, not expecting to be picked up.

“Taking you to my bedroom so we can finally do this.”

~

I take deep breaths, trying to get my breathing back on pace after the adventure of a night I’ve just had. We spent two hours in between the sheets when Clayton, the most in shape boy I’ve ever slept with, finally decided to call it a night.

I wanted to whine and beg for more but at the same time I needed a break myself.

Once my breathing is back to normal I swing my feet over the side of the bed, wincing at the ache in my lower half, but force myself to stand up. I slowly search the room for my panties, pulling them on before Clayton’s voice causes me to jump in surprise.

“Where are you going?” He questions.

I look up to see him watching me from the entrance to his walk-in-closet. He’s leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and I stop myself from asking him to bang me against the doorframe.

“Back to my apartment,” I answer, hooking my bra on.

“No,” he shakes his head.

“No?”

“You’re staying the night. You have to stay the night.” His tone makes it sound like it’s a demand.

“No I don’t,” I disagree.

“Rule four,” he points out.

Rule four. Y/N will listen to Clayton’s demands.

I know I have a right to object, but I don’t think sleeping over counts as something that goes too far over the line. Plus, this encounter paid my rent for this month and it got me laid, so I feel obligated to stay and please him.

I give him a look but push past him to enter his closet, ignoring the sparks that shoot through my arm at the contact of our shoulders and the cute chuckle that he lets out.

I pull one of his T-shirts on as I head back to his king sized bed, climbing in and scrolling through Instagram on my phone.

I don’t know how long it takes but soon I feel another body climb into the bed behind me, arms winding around my torso and resting on my stomach as I’m pulled into another person.

Clayton watches me scroll through my feed for a while before I turn my phone off, setting it on the bedside table.

We don’t talk before we fall asleep.

[heyyyharry]

Chapter 4: Winton

(from the My Girl Trilogy: Stay Mine)

…in which Harry and Y/N finally meet Harry’s father and he’s not what they expected.

Word count: 5.8k

AU: actor!Harry, older!Harry, younger!Y/N, (4-year age gap).

Wattpad link (original character: Thea as Y/N)

A/N: I’m on vacation right now and I brought my laptop to write but I couldn’t write with my family around so I’m sorry I haven’t written any new blurb 😂 I will next week when I get home.

.

The next day, Harry, Y/N, and Isaac came to the address Emilia had given them. It was a cheap tower block quite far from Harry’s North London house. Y/N found it strange that a twenty-something was still living with her father, but she didn’t want to judge anyone before getting to know them.

As the building didn’t have a lift, they had to use the narrow staircase to get to the fourth floor. The walls were stained and the floor was unclean. There was no window in the hallway and the only source of light was the blinking lightbulb on the dark grey ceiling.

“This place seems even worse than mine,” Y/N said, following Isaac as he checked every door for the right flat number.

With an arm around her shoulders, Harry spoke, “your place is still pretty shit, babe.”

“True.” Y/N chuckled, but then she realised what it actually meant. “Hey, I know what you’re trying to do!”

“Well, I’m not trying to do anything.” He shrugged. “You hate my big mansion anyway so, what’s the point?”

“Then why did you bring it up?”

As she shot him a glare, he burst out laughing and pulled her in for a hug. “I was only joking.”

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Yes, it was. You should’ve seen your face.”

“Guys!” Isaac called from the end of the hallway, pointing to a door as the couple rushed up to him. “Here it is. Flat no. 28.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“You do it.” Isaac nudged Harry, who nudged him right back.

“No, you do it. Your girlfriend lives here.”

“One, she’s not my girlfriend. Two, you’re here to see your dad.”

“I don’t consider him as my dad so--”

“Oh my fucking god!” Y/N cried out as she pushed the men apart and knocked on the door, glaring at both of them.

Harry sucked in a breath. When he squeezed her hand, she could tell he was nervous so she patted him on the back and reassured him that it would be okay. Meanwhile, Isaac stayed quiet. Y/N assumed it must have been because of her, as they hadn’t exchanged a word since they got into the car, and she was dying to know if he was still upset.

“Hey, I--”

The door creaked open as soon as she spoke and Emilia greeted them with a wide smile. The girl put a hand on her chest, dimples dug deep into her cheeks as she stared attentively at Harry’s face.

“You look even more handsome in person,” she said.

“Thank you.” Harry pressed his lips into an awkward smile. “Can we—”

“Oh, please, come in! Make yourself at home!” Emilia pulled the door open wide and stepped aside for her guests to enter. “Have a seat. I’ll go get my dad.”

Y/N and Harry followed Isaac to the middle of the room. As Harry stopped in front of a bookshelf, Y/N soon realised what he was staring at. A family picture, in which Winton looked the same as he did in the photograph Harry had found when he was a child. He was young, only a bit older than Harry now, and Emilia was just a baby sitting on her mother’s lap. All three of them were smiling.

Y/N crossed her arms, her eyes squinted. She supposed all blondes looked the same as she found Winton’s wife very familiar but wasn’t sure whom she reminded her of. It took her a moment to figure it out. And her mouth fell open.

Ruby fucking Ellis.

“What?” Harry lifted an eyebrow when she shot him a glare.

Isaac understood right away so he laughed and said, “Emilia looks more like Winton.”

“Thank God for that,” Y/N said, still glaring at Harry.

“I’m not following, is that an inside joke?”

Y/N and Isaac exchanged looks with each other and almost burst out laughing when the sound of the door made them all turn their heads. Though no one reacted, they were equally shocked to see Emilia pushing a man in a wheelchair to the living room.

That’s him. That’s Winton! Y/N thought, but...what happened to his legs?

“Why are you all standing? Come here! Make yourself at home,” Winton said, pointing to the sofa, and Harry, Y/N, and Isaac reluctantly came to sit down at once.

“I’ll make you guys some tea!”

“I’ll help!” Isaac got up quickly and followed Emilia into the kitchen. He was only eager to get out of there and Y/N would have gone with him if it hadn’t been for Harry. She stayed with him even though she hated the awkward silence which took over as soon as Emilia and Isaac left. She wanted to speak up, but at the same time, couldn’t stop gawking at Winton.

Winton Styles was exactly how she imagined Harry would look like in thirty years, only happier than Harry would’ve been if he’d been jobless and living in a place like this. Harry was probably thinking of the same thing. And from his hardened expression, she could tell he was as disappointed as he was surprised.

He wanted to see a loser, an unemployed alcoholic who had to live on his daughter’s money. Not a disabled man who was content with having nothing more than a daughter who loved him. It was selfish and almost cruel to wish that for anyone, but Y/N understood and therefore couldn’t blame him.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” she spoke so Harry didn’t have to, smiling as she shook Winton’s hand. “My name’s Y/N. I’m Harry’s girlfriend.”

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. What a beautiful name,” Winton said. “Harry is so lucky to be dating such a lovely girl.”

“What happened to your legs?”

Harry’s question froze Y/N to the spot. She stayed quiet and studied Winton’s expression, thinking he would be offended but he only gave a shrug as if he’d been expecting that inquiry.

“I had an accident two years ago,” was all he said before changing the subject, “but let’s not talk about me. How are you?”

“I’m good.”

“Harry’s an actor!” Y/N brightened but Harry’s lips stayed a firm line.

Winton put on a grin, slowly nodding his head. “I know. I’ve watched all of his movies.”

“He’s great, isn’t he?” Y/N said as she gave her boyfriend a nudge and yet, he didn’t crack a single smile.

“You know,” Winton went on, “Emi might be your biggest fan. She used to collect all your movie posters and learn by heart all of your famous lines.”

“Stop embarrassing me, dad!”

Y/N heaved a sigh of relief when Emilia and Isaac returned with biscuits and tea. Their presence made such a big difference as both Harry and Winton appeared a lot less apprehensive.

“She used to be a film student,” Isaac said before taking a seat next to Harry.

“Used to?”

“Yeah.” Emilia gave Y/N a smile as she plopped down on the armchair right by her father. “I’d only spent a year in college before the accident, and dad used to be a construction worker. Now that he can’t go back to work, I’m taking care of both of us.”

“That must be tough,” Y/N frowned.

“It’s all right,” Emilia giggled as she reached out to hold her father’s hand. “I’m actually thinking about taking acting classes. My biggest dream is to become a famous actress like Ruby Ellis.”

The name made Harry choke on his tea. Emilia gasped as he started coughing into his arm. “Are you okay?! Is something wrong with the tea?”

“No, the tea is exceptionally good,” Y/N answered on her boyfriend’s behalf as she took a sip from her cup.

Isaac hurriedly grabbed a biscuit and changed the subject, “these are also really good, Emi! Did you make them yourself?”

“Yes! I think I’ll open my own shop and sell these if I can’t make it as an actress.”

As Emilia went on and on about how she’d made those delicious biscuits, Y/N noticed Harry’s hand reaching inside his pocket. He was about to pull out the note when she grabbed his bicep and spoke quickly, “how old are you, Emi?”

“Twenty-one.” Emilia beamed, still unaware of the tension in the room.

“Really? We’re the same age then!” Y/N said, making her face lit up.

“Oh my god, you know what? I’ve always wanted a sister!”

“May I ask, what was the accident?”

Harry’s second question silenced the room once again. Y/N facepalmed herself as Isaac stared at his feet. They waited for Winton and Emilia to get angry and kick them out, but even though Emilia’s smile had disappeared, she still managed to keep her composure.

“Well, my mum, she...um...she was mentally unstable.”

Harry pressed his lips together as Isaac slowly looked up and Y/N’s eyes went round. It wasn’t the answer they had expected.

“She set our house on fire one night. Dad and I managed to escape but she didn’t. He went back in to save her but he couldn’t and lost both of his legs.”

Y/N suddenly felt suffocated, as if an invisible force was putting pressure against her lungs. She nibbled on her bottom lip, her eyes fell to the floor. She still remembered vividly the night her mother passed away, but if she’d been there and witnessed the car crash, it would’ve been the kind of trauma she would never have recovered from.

In a moment of weakness, she let go of Harry’s arm to grab Emilia’s hand, which allowed Harry to pull out the letter and put it in front of Winton.

“I’m sorry for you lost. I really do--”

“Harry--”

“--but I’m actually here today because Gemma couldn’t make it,” he said, ignoring his girlfriend tugging at his sleeve. “She wanted me to say a few things on her behalf, but I think it’d be better for all of us if you’d read her letter. Thank you for having us. I think we should go now.”

Before Y/N or Isaac could stop him, Harry had already got up and put on his jacket. Winton and Emilia were both speechless when the other two followed Harry to the door.

Isaac didn’t forget to thank them for the tea and biscuits as Y/N rushed down the hallway and chased her boyfriend down the stairs. When she finally caught him, she took his car key and handed it to Isaac.

“Get the car, Isaac. I need to talk to Harry.”

Isaac nodded and scurried off, leaving the couple alone on the staircase. Harry looked away when Y/N turned back to him.

“Would you mind telling me what just happened?” she asked.

He leaned a shoulder against the wall, his forehead creased. “That was exactly what we came here to do, wasn’t it?”

“But that was before we knew the kind of man he’d become,” she said, stepping closer. “It seemed to me that he had changed. You couldn’t treat him like the person he used to be twenty years ago.”

Harry tossed his head back, taking a deep breath.

“What?” She lifted an eyebrow.

“Nevermind.”

“No, tell me.”

“Fine,” he breathed. “If Emilia is the same age as you, then Winton must have cheated on my mum to have her. He left when I was four. She was the reason he left us. I know we shouldn’t judge someone from their mistakes in the past, but it was all I could think of when I looked at him.”

“Shh, baby.” Y/N grabbed his face before he could turn his head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise--”

“No, it’s fine. Let’s not keep Isaac waiting.” Just like that, he ducked right past her and continued walking down the stairs.

.

.

.

“Thanks for the ride.”

“Thanks for coming with us,” Harry chuckled as Isaac patted him on the shoulder and got out from the backseat.

“No problem. If you need anything else, just let me know.”

“Wait!” Y/N spoke before Isaac walked away. She told Harry to give her a minute and quickly got out of the car.

“What is it, Smiley?”

The nickname made her whole face brighten as she ran up to Isaac. She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but she’d missed it more than he might assume.

“You’re not mad at me?” she asked.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Well, I was mad at you, but not anymore.”

“Good.” She put a hand on her chest and couldn’t stop beaming. “I’m still sorry though. I shouldn’t have told Harry about Emilia after I’d given you my word.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re forgiven.”

“Truce?”

“Truce,” Isaac said, shaking her hand.

They shared one last hug before Y/N returned to the car. She waved goodbye to Isaac through the window, as Harry started the engine and drove away.

.

.

.

It was late when they arrived at her block. He stopped his car in front of the building and kissed her goodnight as she unbuckled her seatbelt. But right before she left, she had to ask, “you’re not mad at me, are you?”

“No.” He pressed his lips into a soft smile. “Sorry I overreacted.”

“You didn’t though. I’m sorry I didn’t know,” she said and moved a strand of hair out of his forehead. “What are you thinking of right now?”

“Just…” Harry gave a shrug, his lashes fluttered. “I was fine for twenty years without knowing my dad, but now that I’ve met him, I--I’m not fine. And I can’t explain it, not even to myself.”

She stared thoughtfully into his eyes for a second. “Well, this might sound irrelevant but…” she began, tucking her hair behind her ears and laughing lightly, “after you left home for the first time and before we met again in London, I used to block you on socials, ignore all the news about you and refuse to watch any of your movies.”

“You’ve told me this before. It was because I broke my promise and didn’t come back, right?”

“Not really.” She shook her head. “I did it because...I didn’t want to know how great your life had been. I guess it’s just easier to think someone’s life doesn’t go on without you, and that they’re unhappy because they miss you all the time. When in reality, you know their lives don’t revolve around you, and that they’ll be happy with other people and don’t think about you at all. But it’s so simple to just pretend...you know?”

Harry held her gaze as he pursed his lips and cupped her cheek. His hand was cold, but she didn’t mind. She tilted her head, leaning against his palm to feel more of his touch.

“Winton was right about one thing today,” he whispered, making her eyes go round.

“What is it?”

His mouth twitched as he leaned in and kissed her softly. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Y/N’s nose crinkled when she snorted and wrapped both arms around his neck, kissing him harder.

“Hey,” he pulled away to kiss her forehead, “can I stay tonight? I miss falling asleep with you.”

“You can but I’ll be busy.” Her answer was rather disappointing, but she was always straightforward with him and he appreciated that. “I have an assignment to finish and I need to write. We won’t be able to do anything, but we can cuddle--”

“It’s fine. I’d only distract you.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“I would.” He scoffed and hugged her waist to kiss along her jawline. “I’d want you so much and have to seduce you into putting your work aside to play with me.”

“You’re despicable.” She pulled his face up to peck him on the lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Will you make it up to me?”

“It depends on how you behave.”

“I’m always good.” He smirked and held her wrists against their chests so she couldn’t open the door. “Say I’m a good boy and I’ll let you go.”

“You’re a good boy. You’re the best.” She laughed, kissing him once more before he officially let her go.

“Goodnight, Bambi.”

“Goodnight, Harry.”

.

.

.

“Good job, Harry! Take five, everyone!”

As soon as Harry returned to his makeup vanity, a makeup artist and a stylist rushed in to touch up his look for the second shoot after the break. His assistant brought water to him, but right as he wrapped his mouth around the lip of the bottle, he lowered it instantly and put the cap back on.

He turned his head fast, thinking the reflection in the mirror wasn’t real, until he actually saw Emilia standing by the entrance and waving enthusiastically.

“Excuse me.” He got out of his seat and made his way towards her. “What are you doing here, Emi?”

“I brought dad here to see you and your manager let us in!”

The girl said something else about this being her first time at a fashion photoshoot but Harry didn’t pay attention to a single word. He was busy turning left and right looking for a man in the wheelchair.

“Where’s Winton?”

“He’s waiting in the hallway.” Emilia pointed to the door and Harry hurriedly snapped his fingers to get his assistant’s attention. The girl put down her phone and ran up to him.

“Jo, this is Emilia. Can you please keep an eye on her?”

“Yes, Mr. Styles!” Jo said.

Harry didn’t say another word to Emilia and just stormed out of the studio.

He found both Jeff and Winton in the hallway. They were laughing like old friends, which made him wonder if Jeff knew who the man was.

“Hey, H! I finally met your dad!”

Fuck. He knew.

“Could you give us a moment, Jeff?”

“S-Sure,” Jeff stuttered as Harry forced a smile. His manager was taken aback by his attitude, but Harry wasn’t in the mood to explain.

He waited until Jeff was gone and finally turned to Winton. “What are you doing here?”

“I read it,” Winton said as he pulled out the letter from his pocket. He gave it to Harry who pushed it right back into his hand.

“Keep it,” he said with an attitude, but Winton didn’t react.

“These are some really harsh words. I’m not surprised they’re from Gemma as she’s always been a tough girl. But I do understand why she felt that way about me.” The older man laughed sadly as he put the letter back into his pocket.

It was then that Harry noticed the shoebox sitting on Winton’s lap, but he didn’t care enough to wonder what was inside.

“I have to get back to work.”

“I know you hate me!” Winton blurted, causing Harry to stop dead in his tracks. “I know why both of you hate me. And if I could go back in time to change everything, I would. But I can’t. So I just want to apologise.”

Harry stood still with his head hung and both hands on his hips. He took a moment to breathe and chuckled lightly.

“We don’t hate you, Winton. You must care about someone to hate them, and I don’t give a damn about you.” He looked up and pointed a finger to the door behind him. “I’ll get your daughter and the two of you will leave me and my family alone. Got it?”

“I tried to see you but your mother didn’t let me. She--”

“Stop fucking lying!” Harry raised his voice, knowing the people in the studio could hear him, but he didn’t really give a fuck. This man and his daughter had crossed so many lines and he couldn’t take it anymore. He had never wanted this to happen. He had never wished for drama. He’d been through some shit in the last couple years so why couldn’t he have one second of peace?

“I’m sorry about what happened to you and your wife,” he continued, this time, lowering his voice, “but you’re never gonna get our sympathy. You got some nerves to show up here and now you’re blaming my mother?”

“I’m not blaming your mother. I know she had her reasons--”

“Fuck off.”

“If you don’t believe me, I can prove it!” Winton pushed his wheelchair faster to catch up with Harry, who stopped right before he reached the door. “When you were thirteen you made it to your school’s football team and won the local championship.”

Harry shoved his fingers into his hair, messing up his stylist’s two-hour hard work as he scoffed. “Did Gemma mention it in her letter?”

“No, I was there.” Winton sucked in a breath. “Your mother didn’t let me talk to you so I only came to watch the game and left afterwards. Y/N was there too, right? I saw her in the front row. She was wearing a shirt that said ‘Y/N heart Harry’. And she was the loudest.”

Harry’s jaw tightened as he chewed the inside of his cheek. As much as he wanted to believe Winton was lying so he could end this conversation and continue hating the man, he knew Winton couldn’t have made it up.

“She made that shirt herself,” he spoke, his voice was thick but less alarmed.

Winton’s face lit up with a smile as he put both hands on the shoebox. “That girl,” he said. “She really loves you.”

“We actually met in the treehouse,” Harry murmured. He wasn’t sure why he’d said that, but he just thought he should let him know.

“Oh, really?” Winton chuckled. “Your old man did something right after all.”

“Doesn’t matter. It fell last year in a storm,” was all Harry said, and nothing else.

The men stood silently in that long hallway. Harry’s five-minute break had probably ended already, but no one came to get him, so he assumed Jeff had asked for more time for him to talk to his father. He didn’t want to talk though. The best he could do now was to just listen.

“I’ve missed so much in your life,” Winton finally broke the silence as he stared at the shoebox. “I was far from perfect, I know. I’ve made many mistakes but I’ve paid for them by losing my wife and my legs...and--and the better life I could’ve had if I hadn’t screwed things up with your mum...I just--I’m trying to be a better man, I swear. But you’re not a little boy anymore. You’re successful and you don’t need me, and therefore I don’t expect you to take me back. But I hope you will forgive me. Gemma and your mother might not, but I hope you will. You don’t remember the terrible man I was so I guess...it’d be easier for you to see me as the man I am.”

When Winton finished, he patiently waited for a response. Harry refused to look him in the eye so he cleared his throat and said, “one more thing before I go.”

He then opened the shoebox he’d been carrying on his lap. Harry finally took a look, his forehead puckered as he saw what was inside.

“I bought you these football shoes when you made it to your school’s team,” said Winton as Harry picked up the shoes and ran his fingertips across the scorch marks. “Anne didn’t let me give them to you so I kept them. I lost almost everything in that fire but I’m glad I could save these. You obviously don’t need them anymore, but it makes me feel better to finally be able to give them to you.”

As Harry remained silent, Winton released a sigh. “I’ll go get Emi and we’ll leave.”

“Hang on,” Harry said as he put the shoes back in the box. “I’ll be done by twelve. Would you and Emilia want to have lunch with me?”

.

.

.

“He walked in and saw...and saw her...Wait, no. He entered the room and found her sitting on the floor. Okay, that’s better. Sitting...on...the...floor--”

“Y/N!”

“Fuck! Alice!”

The librarian shushed the girls as Alice pulled up a chair and sat down next to Y/N.

“I’m so fucking glad we’re not working for her anymore,” Alice said, faking a smile at the middle-aged lady who was still glowering at them.

“You can’t just sneak up on people like that, Al!”

“Sorry, I’ve been looking for you all morning. I should’ve known you were here.”

Y/N shut her laptop right before Alice could read any sentence on the screen.

“Oh, come on!”

“You have to wait until it’s published, Al.”

“It’ll take forever!” Alice blurted and quickly covered her mouth when she received an unblinking glare from Y/N. “I mean...they have to edit and design the covers and print the books and plan a marketing campaign and all sorts of shit, right? That’s why it’ll take forever, not because I don’t believe in you.”

“Nice save,” Y/N snorted. “But my book kind of sucked so I’m rewriting the whole thing.”

“Gee, sounds like a lot of work.”

Y/N said nothing more about it as she gave a shrug. “Anyway, you were looking for me?”

“Yes!” Alice raised a finger, smiling from ear to ear. “Remember that girl Mandy? The one who took us to that nice club and you disappeared without a trace while everyone was having a great time?”

“Yes, I remember.” Y/N laughed, resting her chin on her knuckles.

“Yeah, well, she’s throwing a pool party this weekend and we’re both invited,” Alice said as she pulled out her phone and showed Y/N the text she’d just got. “She also sent you one but you didn’t respond so she texted me. Did you know that she’s like super rich? We’re officially the Kardashians on campus now. You’re Khloe and I’m Kim.”

“Why do you always get to be Kim?” Y/N laughed as Alice flipped her hair over her shoulder. “But I’m sorry, Kim, I’m busy this weekend.”

“Why? You’ve got plans with Harry?”

“No. I’ve got to finish the book before then.”

“You’re so obsessed with your book!” They both reached for the laptop but Alice got it first and moved it out of Y/N’s reach. “What would Harry say about this, hmm?”

“He’d say he’s so proud of me because he’s a supportive boyfriend.” Y/N smirked as she brushed Alice’s hand off her laptop to get it back. “But you should go to that party, don’t let me ruin it.”

“I definitely won’t. Have fun with your book, ya nerd.”

“Fuck you!” Y/N giggled and opened her laptop. “Now please give me some space to get creative, please?”

“There she is!” Alice said suddenly, pointing to the group of girls standing by the entrance. It was Mandy and two of her friends, and Y/N and Alice tried waving but those three didn’t look their way.

“I’m going over there.”

“For what?”

“To tell her I’m not going.”

“Good idea! Tell her I’m going though! Jesus!” Alice gasped when the librarian clutched her arm from behind and pulled her up.

“Strike two. You’re getting out of here, Alice!”

“Fine, I’m leaving! This is why we quit, Bethany!”

Y/N waved goodbye to Alice as the librarian dragged her outside. She prayed Alice wouldn’t get into any more trouble as she made her way toward Mandy. The girls were waiting in front of the librarian’s desk, all facing away so they didn’t see Y/N coming. She almost tapped Mandy on the shoulder to interrupt their conversation, but then she heard, “let’s hope she’ll bring Harry this time.”

The two other girls laughed as Y/N was frozen to the spot. Mandy had no idea, so she kept going, “she’s such a whore though. I bet she would suck any rich man’s cock and let them fuck her in the arse for some money. I can’t blame Harry and Isaac though. I mean, they’re men after all. They just want their dicks wet.”

Y/N cleared her throat and Mandy turned around, eyes wide with shock. Even though she was quick to cover it up with a smile, the colour soon drained out of her face.

“H-Hey, Y/N…”

“Hey.” Y/N faked a smile in return. “I just want to say I can’t make it to your party this weekend.”

“Oh, that’s all right. We’ll hang out next time then.”

“No, thanks.” She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “I’d rather stay home sucking my boyfriend’s cock and letting him fuck me in the arse than hang out with you two-faced bitches.”

The girls dropped their jaws at the same time, but neither could say a single word for Y/N didn’t even give them a chance. “Do you really think you can bully me? I’d love to see you try. I eat rich spoiled brats for dinner. You might want to spread that rumour too.”

Y/N turned her heels and strutted back to her seat while Mandy and her friends were red-faced and tongue-tied. She didn’t give two shits about those girls. They couldn’t do anything to her. But her inspiration had evaporated and she couldn’t focus on writing anymore.

She blew out her cheeks and sent Harry a text.

Having a bad day! Need to talk to you :(

She waited for five minutes before sending another.

Call me when you’re free.

That should do, she thought, he’s probably busy.

But no matter how busy Harry was, he always found time to text her back or at least let her know he was busy. Something wasn’t right.

That afternoon, when Y/N came back to her block, she walked up the stairs with her eyes glued to her phone, still waiting for his reply. She’d tried calling once but he didn’t answer, and she didn’t want to call him again because she might be overthinking.

“Hey, T!” Blake’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She looked up and found him standing right outside his flat. He’d probably just got home. “Any update?”

“I’ve finished another chapter today,” she said, pulling out her keys. “Could’ve done two but I got distracted.”

Despite her weary frown, Blake didn’t stop smiling. “Can I read it later?”

“I’ll let you read the whole book when I’m done.” Her mouth twisted as she unlocked her door.

“Oh, okay,” Blake muttered and also opened his, but Y/N stopped him before he went inside.

“You’re making dinner?” Y/N asked, pointing to the grocery bag he was carrying.

“Yup. Do you cook?”

“Never.”

Her answer made him laugh. “So you eat out every night?”

“Not tonight though.” She pursed her lips. “I’ll just make instant ramen or order some pizza. I usually have dinner with Harry but he’s probably busy. I haven’t heard from him today. Don’t know where the hell he is.”

Blake only nodded.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow,” he said. And both entered their flats at the same time.

.

.

.

It was 9 PM and Y/N still hadn’t eaten. Every time she sat down in front of her laptop and started typing, she would let reality fade away and the concept of time no longer existed in her world.

She didn’t remember how long she’d been working. Only when the doorbell rang, did she snap out of it and stand up to stretch her limbs.

“Harry? Is that you?” she asked from her bedroom door, but it couldn’t have been Harry. Harry would’ve said something to let her know it was him.

Before she could assume something as bad as the rat delivery incident, someone slid a note under her door.

“What now, Blake?” She snorted and came to pick it up. In Blake’s sloppy handwriting which hadn’t changed since high school, it said: come over if you’re hungry - B.

“Hey, B!” Y/N shouted as soon as she stepped into the hallway. The second her neighbour opened the door and poked his head outside, she showed him the note. “Explain this.”

“Well, I thought you might skip dinner again,” Blake said with a bashful smile. “You always forget everything else when you write.”

“Oh,” she mumbled, staring at her feet, “well, thanks but...I’ve eaten already.”

“All right. That’s good.” His lips curved into a smile, but she knew what his happy smile was and that wasn’t even close.

She hurriedly said goodnight and ran before he could say it back. She was starving, but she still had instant ramen in the kitchen so she’d probably survive. Her having dinner alone with Blake would have changed a lot of things, even if it had been a platonic meal. She wasn’t sure if he still had feelings for her, but she couldn’t risk it. It wouldn’t be fair to either him or Harry.

Speaking of Harry, where the hell is he?!

.

.

.

“Where were you yesterday?” Y/N asked as Harry stepped into her flat and kissed her on the cheek. He seemed more cheerful than usual, which was actually concerning.

She watched him plop down on the sofa, and was about to repeat the question when he said, “I was with Winton and my phone was dead.”

His answer froze her to the spot. She crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow. “Winton? Your dad?”

She just thought there being another Winton would have made more sense than him spending time with his actual father. But Harry didn’t look like he was joking as he gave a shrug.

“What were you doing with him?”

“We went out for lunch at first. Emilia was with us but she had to go back to the coffee shop for her shift,” he said as she walked over to sit on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Then he took me to this bar owned by a friend. We talked until it was very late. I had to call my bodyguard to pick me up as I got so fucking drunk and passed out as soon as I got home. I hate to admit it, but I actually had a good time.”

“That’s...great,” she said, smiling nervously as she placed a hand on his chest. “But baby, are you sure you’re fine?”

“Yeah, he’s actually not so bad. Can you believe he’d been to twelve countries when he was eighteen? And he used to play football for his university.”

Although Y/N wasn’t sure if Harry was making judgements with his head or his heart, she didn’t make any more comments. She just wanted him to be happy, and right now, he was.

“When are you gonna tell Gem and your mum?”

Harry leaned back against the couch and rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know, but I feel like they’re gonna be so angry.”

“Don’t worry,” she told him, holding his face. “We’ll figure out how to talk to them.”

Harry nodded once and cupped her chin to attach their lips as he whispered into her mouth, “I read your text by the way. What happened?”

“Nothing. I just missed you.”

“Yeah?” He smirked when she started toying with the buttons of his shirt. “Did someone bully my girl?”

“No one can bully your girl,” she said and licked his jaw, making him chuckle as he grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her away.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“I already told you, love. I missed you,” she murmured and leaned back in, giving him a full open-mouthed kiss. He hadn’t even touched her skin and she’d already got her hand in his pants, squeezing and stroking his bulge.

“Can I have a taste?”

Her voice made him shiver. He nodded so fast his head could just fall off and he might not even care. She patted his bum, and he hurriedly lifted his hips for her to pull down his jeans. But before she could free his erection, the doorbell pulled them apart.

“Hey, Y/N! It’s Blake.”

“Fuck you, Blake—”

Y/N covered Harry’s mouth and shouted at the door, “give me a second!”

“What about me?” he asked when she got up and straightened her skirt.

“We’ll finish later,” she said, leaving him almost butt-naked on the couch.

Harry pulled up his pants and threw his head back, staring at the ceiling. He was cursing Blake for cockblocking him when the notification of a new message got his attention.

Gem: How was it?

His mouth set in a hard line as he read the text. Blake might not be his biggest problem after all.

.

What do you think? Do you trust Winton and Emilia? 🤔