#and a younger sister who just finished her freshman year at the school i hated but she loves it and got perfect grades and made friends

[steviescrystals]

i seriously need to get a new job and start making money again asap bc i cannot keep living at home much longer it’s driving me insane

(wrote an entire essay in the tags without meaning to oops)

[she-is-juniper]

Favorite Worst Nightmare || chapter two

An Eddie Munson x Reader halloween enemies to lovers series

Previous chapters: || chapter one ||

Rating (by chapter): M (Mature) (smut to come later)

Summary: It’s October ‘86, and the town of Hawkins is hosting the most anticipated Halloween event of the year: the Hawkins House of Horrors, a charity haunted house attraction taking place at the formerly-abandoned Creel house. You’ve signed up to work the event, but unfortunately, so has your nemesis, your favorite worst nightmare. Eddie Munson thinks you’re a conceited priss; you think he’s a cynical asshole. But the root of your mutual disdain runs much deeper than meets the eye, and with such deep-rooted hate comes other undeniable passions. This is a slow burn enemies-to-lovers multipart series. Chapters with an E (explicit) rating contain smut and are not suitable for readers under 18.

Word count (by chapter): 6K

Content/warnings (by chapter): alcohol use, drug use (weed), cursing, description of vomiting

A/N: Thank you so much for everyone who read and commented on chapter 1! I’m hoping to publish the rest of this series before the 31st so buckle up! (Also please note that the character “Josh” is fictionalized!) -Juni

✧・ﾟ:*✧・ﾟ:*✧・ﾟ:*

“He’s really not so bad once you get to know him.”

“Chrissy. He’s a menace.”

Chrissy Cunningham had always been like a little sister to you in high school. She was two years younger and always looked up to you as the captain of the cheer squad. You had taken her under your wing for those two years you had overlapped in school. Ever since you moved back to Hawkins this summer and Chrissy finally graduated, you and her had rekindled your friendship.

Even if her taste in male friends could be astonishingly bad. 

Chrissy’s apartment was absolutely perfect for her. It was close enough to Hawkins that she could stay in touch with all her friends from back home, yet far enough of a drive away that she could finally get some distance from her overbearing mother. Best of all, it was down the street from the liberal arts college where she was a freshman this fall.

It was the weekend before Halloween, and Chrissy was throwing a costume party at her new apartment. You had volunteered to help her decorate it during the day before the party started, and she’d graciously agreed. 

“He’s not a menace,” she insisted while she hung the plastic bat decorations you’d brought on the popcorn ceiling of her living room. “He’s just…misunderstood.”

“He must have brainwashed you.”

“Now you’re just being dramatic.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s only a matter of time before he personally victimizes you, too.”

She shrugged. “I dunno, he’s always been really nice to me.”

“That’s just because he hasn’t yet found a way to throw you under the bus for something he wants.” You were in the kitchen filling bowls with chips, and once all the chip bags were empty, you decided to get started on the punch. “How much liquor do you want in the punch?”

“How much did you bring?”

“Two bottles.”

“...Two bottles, then.”

You laugh and begin pouring the vodka and rum. “I really don’t understand why you’re friends with him,” you told her. 

“I told you, he was my plug for a while. Don’t look at me like that, Y/N,” Chrissy giggled. “I was going through a lot of shit after you graduated. I needed something to take the edge off.”

“Hey, I’m not judging. I’m just surprised.” You gave her a level look, and your Big Sister voice came out. “You’re doing better now, though, right?”

Chrissy nodded, her ponytail bouncing. “Tons. Especially after I broke up with Jason.”

“I can’t believe you and I both dated a Carver.”

Chrissy’s eyes went wide. “Oh my god, I totally forgot that you used to date Josh!”

Joshua Carver was Jason’s older brother, and your boyfriend your senior year. You laughed and shook your head. “He was such a jerk.”

“So was Jason. The worst.”

“The worst,” you agreed.

“Why do the Carver brothers both suck?”

“Good question.” You finished stirring the punch and started putting out stacks of red solo cups. “Repressed mommy issues and a distorted definition of masculinity?”

“Throw in ‘raging superiority complexes’ and that sounds about right.”

The two of you laugh together, but the melodious duet was tinged with the sense of mutual relief.

“At least you and I both know our worth now,” you added more solemnly.

Chrissy nodded confidently. “The boys I’ve met in college are really cute…” She waggled her brows, and you threw a chip from the plate at her playfully. She laughed and dodged it effortlessly. “Anyway, I promise Eddie Munson’s not as scary as he seems.” 

“It’s not that I’m scared of him.”

“Then what?”

“We just… hate each other.”

“But…why?”

“Long story,” you dismissed her.

She pursed her lips. “He never said anything to me that made me think he might hate you.”

“Oh, trust me, he can’t stand me. He’s made that very clear.”

Part of you begins to think…would you even despise Eddie Munson half as much if he wasn’t so outspoken about his disdain toward you? How much of your feelings about him was purely reactionary?

“I never told you what happened?” You studied Chrissy. 

She shook her head. “Nope.”

 “He almost got me suspended for cheating off my American History essay our senior year.”

“What? You let him cheat off your essay?”

“No! I—no, I just let him borrow it, so he could see how I formatted everything. I didn’t know he was going to plagiarize it.”

Truth be told, you used to find Eddie Munson tolerable, once upon a time, before the incident. More than tolerable…you even liked him. In your eyes, he had been harmless, albeit a bit nonconformist. He always ran with his own crowd, and you ran with yours. All throughout middle and high school, you and he hadn’t really paid each other much heed. That was, until your senior year, when you shared an American History class and he sat behind you.

Eddie had been different back then…scrawnier, less brazen, less intimidating. But also goofy, sweet, endearing. You couldn’t help but be drawn into his warm eyes and sweet smile. You hadn’t been sure at the time why, all of the sudden, he had taken an interest in befriending you. After all, you had been popular, a cheerleader, the embodiment of everything he was so readily against in society. But when he tapped your shoulder one day and asked for a pencil, you were hooked in. One thing had led to another, and he’d asked if you could tutor him, and you started hanging out after school, started trusting him. Started becoming perhaps more than friends. 

And the next thing you knew, you were in the principal’s office being accused of academic misconduct for aiding and abetting plagiarism. 

You had realized too late that he’d only pretended to befriend you so he could take advantage of you. He was failing History, and you, acing the class as usual, just so happened to be the one he chose to prey upon for his own gain, to save his own ass and pass the class to graduate. And, of course, it hadn’t worked, seeing as he’d only managed to get you kicked off the squad and get himself held back another year.

You shook your head at the memories and continued to Chrissy. 

“Point is, I trusted him, and he screwed me over. He’s a piece of shit, and he was just desperate not to repeat senior year. But he’s the reason I got kicked off the squad at the end of my senior year.”

“You got kicked off the squad?” she gasped. “I thought you quit?”

“That’s what I told everyone at the time.”

Chrissy was chewing on her bottom lip. “I didn’t know all that. I only knew about the thing with Josh.”

There was more to the story.

Josh had heard from you what Eddie had done, and he’d taken it upon himself (and the basketball team) to “teach that freak a lesson”—in other words, they’d dragged him under the gym bleachers and beaten him up. All things considered, though, Josh and his buddies had always hated Eddie without cause, and the plagiarism incident just gave them an excuse to do what they couldn’t justify doing sooner.

You cringed at the memory. It had been bad. You had no idea Josh would go as far as to attack Eddie like that. Even if it was in your honor, you could never condone violence. 

“Josh was way out of line for what he did to Eddie,” you admitted to Chrissy. “He shouldn’t have done that. And we broke up the week after that. But the point is, Eddie Munson’s a lying prick who will tear everyone else down to get what he wants.”

“But what if he’s changed?” Chrissy says. “I mean, that’s really shitty what he did, with the essay. But what if he’s different now?”

You considered her words. “I guess. You probably know him better than me, Chrissy. But he never apologized to me, not once.”

That was the real kicker. It wasn’t even the cheating thing in the end…it was the fact that he never apologized. That he had used you, that he had led you to believe that you could trust him, that you and he were friends, that maybe there was something more blossoming between you, when really, it was all a ploy. 

And moreover, it was the fact that he still wouldn’t apologize to this day. That he just kept making excuses instead. That’s the real world, baby. Open your eyes.

“Wow. I’m really sorry, Y/N,” she said sincerely.

You smiled a little. “It’s fine. It was a long time ago. Honestly…I’d probably forgive him if he just apologized. But he won’t. I’m glad he’s been nice to you, Chris, but he’s such an asshole to me. You should have heard him yesterday at the haunted house, or the day before that at my dad’s store. Then you’d understand why I never want to see him again.”

You tried to focus on how infuriated you’d been at Eddie’s antics. You tried not to think about things like Eddie’s brown eyes as they trailed down and up your body before locking on yours. Or the rings on his fingers as he drummed on the counter. Or the intoxicating scent of his skin. Or the way his jeans fit so snugly on his limber hips. Or his—

Stop it.

Chrissy was biting her bottom lip with her eyebrows furrowed.

“What?” you asked her.

Her face snapped back to normal. “Nothing.”

“What?” you asked again.

“Nothing, I swear. It’s just… I’m, uh, I’m just worried about the party tonight. Do you think we should have made more punch?”

“Don’t worry, people will bring beer and stuff.”

“...Do you think anyone will come?”

“Of course they will. Weren’t you just telling me how many new friends you already made this semester?”

Chrissy finally beamed and began telling you about her semester, the friends she’d made in her new sorority, how great it was to be away from her parents. The two of you worked while you talked, continuing to set up the apartment for her Halloween party. She was grateful you were there early to help out; you were grateful for a chance to get out of the house and be around college kids your age again. You had to admit that hearing about Chrissy’s freshman year made you long to be back in school again, back with your friends from Purdue, in your third year of classes like you were supposed to be. But if all went well working for your parents back in Hawkins for the semester, your reprieve from college life would be brief. 

By the time the first party guests started to arrive, the apartment looked picture perfect: pumpkins, skeletons, ghouls, spiders, and bats filled every nook and cranny. Orange construction paper around the lampshades gave everything a perfect jack-o-lantern glow, along with the string lights draped along the walls and ceiling. Before long, the apartment was lively with the sounds of chatter and laughter as people greeted each other and compared costumes.

After taking a few shots together to get in the party mood, Chrissy had tasked you with manning the turntable until another one of her friends arrived who had volunteered to take over DJing duties. She had spent hours sorting through her albums for the party and selecting the best choices, and you started the evening off with some standard hits. And as for your costume, you’d decided on simple, yet effective: a green jumpsuit you’d snagged from the mall last year, makeshift naval emblems and patches, and aviator sunglasses, à la the female version of Tom Cruise in Top Gun.

You didn’t know anyone here, but that was nothing a few solo cups full of punch wouldn’t fix. Once Chrissy’s DJ friend had arrived, you beelined for the kitchen to get a refill. It was only about 9pm at this point but the party was already a hit. You smiled as you looked around at the partygoers; Chrissy must be elated at how many people had come. Someone had brought weed, and soon, the apartment was filled with smoke that cast the lights in a soft orange glow.

Someone came up behind you, and the smell of marijuana strengthened. You turned around and came face-to-face with Michael Myers. Rather, a cheap rubbery Michael Myers mask. 

“Maverick,” the masked partygoer said, gesturing to your costume.

“Mr. Myers,” you greeted him back. Michael doesn’t say anything more, just holds out a lit joint. You shrugged and accepted his offering, taking a long drag and coughing a bit. From the dining room, a group of people cheered as a round of beer pong finishes up. You gestured to it with your thumb. “Wanna play?”

Michael said nothing, just nodded and followed you to the table. Aside from his mask, the mystery college boy wore dark, nondescript clothing that didn’t stand out much to you. You wondered what his major was.

“Ladies first,” Michael says, formally gesturing to you. You smile and snatch the ball for your first throw. 

“Wow, such a gentleman. You a friend of Chrissy’s?” you asked him as you took the first shot. The ball bounced off the rim of a cup and Michael Myers dutifully retrieved it for you.

“Yep, you could say that,” he responded in a low voice that you had to strain to hear over the boom of the music. “And you?”

“We go way back.”

Michael takes his throw and the ping pong ball plops in the centermost cup. You fish it out and put the cup aside.

“Don’t you have to chug that?” he notes.

You laugh. “It’s water.” Chrissy didn’t want beer all over her dining room floor.

“That’s no fun.” He observes your next throw and cocks his head when you miss again. Everything is starting to feel pretty trippy from your hit.

“Hmm… How about…loser shotguns a beer?” you offered. 

“Deal.” Michael took his next shot and it didn't even hit the table. You snickered at him. “You go to school with Chrissy?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t go here. I go to Purdue.”

“Purdue,” Michael echoed in that mysterious, low voice of his. “Is that where all the pretty girls go to college?”

Hmm. Brazen. You kind of liked it. You smirked and continued to play. Michael was annoyingly good at beer pong, and you wondered how he could even see out of his mask. His dedication to wearing it was truly remarkable. But you were gaining on him, and before you knew it, the two of you were tied with one remaining cup each.

And with your last shot, with everything seeming to move in slow motion, your ball landed in your last cup, spinning around the rim. But before you could celebrate, in one swift motion, Michael Myers lifts his mask halfway and darts down to blow a puff of air into the cup. Your spinning ball gets blown out of the cup and onto the ground.

“Hey! Not cool!”

Several onlookers chuckled around the table. You catch sight of Michael’s mischievous grin before he lowers the mask again. You cross your arms defiantly. 

“You like to play dirty, is that how it is?” you said with a raised brow.

“I bet you can handle dirty, Miss Maverick,” Michael said. Something about his words made you pause, but your spinning mind quickly washed away any thoughts.

It ended up being a close game, but the mystery man won in the end. You pretended to be mad and dipped your fingers in a cup to flick him with water. Michael feigned shock as he held a hand to his heart and looked around dramatically, and you laughed. As you went back to the kitchen with him, he didn’t touch you, but he was close enough that you could feel the warmth emanating from his body.

Michael withdrew a can of beer from the fridge and held it out to you. “A deal’s a deal,” he murmured.

You sighed and pierced the can with a key, popping the tab. He watched as you dutifully chugged its contents. After finishing and wiping your mouth, you squinted at his masked face.

“Who are you under there?” you drawled.

“Your worst nightmare,” he said back.

“Are you, now?”

Something about him drew you in. You didn’t know what that said about you, having a proclivity for masked men dressed like serial killers. Was that fucked up? Perhaps you shouldn’t look into it that deeply. The man was fit and radiated some sort of confidence you hadn’t observed before, maybe a confidence only harbored by anonymity. 

The party’s designated DJ changed the song then; “Master of Puppets” by Metallica, a drastic change of pace from Madonna and a-ha. Michael Myers perked up at the sound of it and started miming a guitar and headbanging. You giggled and leaned against the counter, watching him. The room was spinning pretty hard now. You’d never been crossed before, and it wasn’t half bad. 

A few other Metallica fans in attendance at the party cheered from the living room. Michael Myers joined them. It was quite the sight, watching them jump around like idiots and mime various instruments until enough people complained about the noise and the DJ switched the song to “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” by Tears for Fears. 

You weren’t sure how it happened exactly, but there were enough people in the crowded, dimly-lit living room that you were sucked into the middle of the mass dancing bodies. Not that you minded. You danced right with them, until you were suddenly aware that you didn’t know a single person here. Where was Chrissy?

You bumped into a familiar body. Michael Myers was still in the crowd. He steadied you with his arms, and you smiled up at him.

“I love this song,” you drawled.

“This song sucks,” he responded. You could barely make out the big eyes behind the mask as his eyelids fluttered.

“You must hate fun then, Mr. Meyers.”

Michael laughed, the sound low and rumbly and strangely intimate. Maybe it was just the weed-alcohol combination, but you felt inexplicably drawn to him in that moment. You guided Michael’s hands from your arms to your waist and indicated for him to start dancing with you. He was a bit stiff at first, but he loosened up, and soon enough, you and him were dancing so close that your bodies were all but pressed up to each other?

What was it that made him so irresistible to you? Was it simply the air of intrigue about his anonymity? Or was it something else? God, your intoxication was making you feel all sorts of things. You traced your hands down his chest and you felt his hands squeeze around your waist a little. You wished he would go lower with them; was he too much of a gentleman for that?

Teasingly, you pinched the bottom edge of his mask, easing it off, curious to know the face behind it.

You heard your name from behind you. A pair of hands wrenched you from Michael Myers’ arms, and you met the wide-eyed expression of Chrissy.

“Chrissy! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

She smiled dazedly and then blinked over your shoulder. “You’re dancing with…with—?”

“Michael Myers!”

“Y/N, that’s…”

There was a commotion by the front door as more people came in. You watched Chrissy’s eyes widen even more as she realized who it was. 

“Oh my god. What the hell are they doing here?” she gaped.

You followed her gaze and your stomach dropped. It was the Carver brothers. Josh, your senior year boyfriend, and his carbon copy younger brother, Jason. It was the strangest experience seeing Josh again, two years after you’d dumped him. They sauntered into the already crowded apartment like they owned the place, flanked by an entourage of jocks.

You whirled around to Chrissy. “Oh my god.”

“You didn’t invite them, did you?” she asked.

“No! Did you?”

“Of course not!” She frowned at them again, clearly panicking. “But…I did invite Patrick McKinney…”

Sure enough, standing behind the Carver brothers was who you remembered to be Patrick, looking rather guilty at having brought along Chrissy’s ex to her college party.

Before the boys could notice you and Chrissy, you grabbed her arm and wheeled her to the hallway out of sight. “Those assholes,” you muttered.

“I can’t believe they showed up.” 

“And they’re not even wearing costumes.”

“Can we tell them to go away?”

“You know the Carvers. They’ll just make a scene.” When Chrissy started chewing on her thumb, you said, “Listen. We just have to pretend like they’re not here.”

“Why did they even come?” she fretted.

“Probably because they both feel like they still have some kind of moronic claim over us. They’re assholes. But we can’t let them ruin the night.”

“What do we do?”

“Show them that we don’t care.”

“Make them jealous?”

“No, not jealous. Maybe we just…make them see that we don’t belong to them anymore.” You scanned the crowd in the living room. “Where’s that guy from your poly sci class you were telling me you invited?”

Chrissy gestured to a guy who looked like a buffer version of Jason. “Anthony?” 

“Perfect. Go flirt with him and pretend Jason isn’t here.” Maybe it was a stupid idea, but it seemed reasonable at the time, given your current state of mind.

“What about you?”

“I’ve got someone in mind, don’t worry.”

You spotted Michael Myers again and made a beeline for him before Chrissy could say anything else.

As you approached him, you touched his arm. “Did you get lonely without me?”

“Serial killers don’t get lonely,” he joked in that low voice. You glanced behind his back; Josh hadn’t spotted you yet. 

You moved closer to your mystery college boy, your mouth so close to his mask that you were brushing against it. “Everyone could use a bit of company, though, don’t you think?”

He didn’t say anything, didn’t move, but he leaned toward you almost imperceptibly. The room seemed dimmer and smokier than before, the music louder, the living room even more crowded. The atmosphere almost buzzed, and your senses all seemed to run together. You wanted another hit.

“Still got that joint?” you asked him. He dug around in his leather jacket, withdrawing the same joint from earlier that he’d preserved. 

“Are you sure?” he murmured from behind the mask. You nodded, and he beckoned you over to the side of the room where it was less crowded. After lighting the joint, he offered it to you. In lieu of taking it between your fingers, you leaned into him and took a hit while he was still holding it. Your lips brushed against his fingers.

He rolled up his rubber mask, revealing his nose and mouth, and again, the sight of it elicited a little red flag in the back of your brain. You didn’t know why; you were beyond crossed at this point. But as you watched him take a long drag, entranced, the warning signal in your brain seemed to dissipate like the smoke he exhaled. 

You reached up and touched his lips with your fingertips. The music and the crowd all melted away.

“I kind of wanna kiss you,” you murmured. God, how high were you?

He didn’t respond, but his beautiful lips parted. You leaned in closer, taking in the scent of him. Weed intermingled with cologne, cigarettes, musk. 

Why was that such a familiar scent?

He wasn’t leaning in back. But he wasn’t leaning away. You hesitated, waiting for him to pull back—after all, you and he were strangers who’d just met. The music and people around you faded.

You were so close to him now that your mouth brushed against his. His warm lips parted as he let in a small gasp, a sound that tugged at the pit of your stomach. You felt him lean ever so slightly toward you, and his mouth fit against yours—

“Y/N?”

It was Josh, standing behind you. 

You broke away from Michael Myers and whirled around to the sound of your ex. You appraised him apathetically. “Why are you here?” you deadpanned.

Being face-to-face with your ex again was quite the trip, especially while you were literally tripping. He was somehow even bigger now than he was back in high school—or maybe it was just the way he was puffing out his chest like a gorilla trying to establish dominance over the other males in the room. His jaw was working in overtime as he assessed you and Michael Myers.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“I could ask you the same. I don’t remember Chrissy inviting you here. What, are you stalking us now?”

Josh glared, ignoring your words. “Who the fuck is this?” he said, gesturing over your shoulder. 

You narrowed your eyes. “That’s none of your business.”

But it was too late; Josh was already squaring up with the other man. 

“Are you some kind of perv?” Josh spat. He reached for the mask, but the other man swatted his hand away. “Take off the mask, bro.”

Michael Myers went tense. 

“Take of the fucking mask,” Josh repeated.

Dejectedly, Michael Myers removed his mask, revealing a sweaty-faced Eddie Munson.

Oh my god.

“Eddie?” you gaped. 

“Munson?” Josh intoned. 

You couldn’t fucking believe how stupid you were not to realize it before. The dark clothing on his limber frame, his reaction to hearing Metallica, the stupid scent of his skin you couldn’t distingush at the time over the smell of marijuana. How had you not fucking realized it was him?

You realized in that moment just how drunk-slash-high you truly were. Like, really fucking drunk-slash-high. 

“What’s this freak doing here?” Josh spat at Eddie. 

For once in his life, Eddie seemed not to have much to say. His face was red. 

Josh turned to you. “Wow. I guess college really turned you into a fucking whore, Y/N. The Munson prick? Really?”

“Oh, fuck you—”

“Don’t speak to her like that,” Eddie snarled at Josh.

You whirled on him. Since when did he care? You felt strangely offended that he had the audacity to stand up for you. 

Josh neared Eddie so close that his puffed chest almost touched Eddie’s. “You don’t get to talk, perv.”

You wrenched Josh away from Eddie by the back of his shirt. “Go away, Josh. No one invited you or your dickhead little brother here.”

Josh glared at you. “You know, I came because I still care about you, Y/N. You need someone to—”

“You’re not my boyfriend anymore,” you spat. “Go away.”

The two of you stared at each other hard for a long while before Josh came to his senses and backed off. He collected his brother Jason, who was staring at Chrissy but thankfully not engaging with her, and dragged him out the front door angrily. 

The world still spinning, you turned to Eddie again and shoved his chest.

“What the fuck, Munson?” you shouted at him. 

He smacked your hands away. “I could say the same,” he retorted, anger flooding his features. “Using me to get back at your asshat ex boyfriend? Real classy, princess.”

“What? I—I didn’t know it was you,” you hissed back. Realization began to hit you. Oh my god. “But you knew it was me.”

You weren’t wearing any kind of mask, just your Top Gun-inspired costume. He knew it was you the whole time. 

And he hadn’t pulled away when you tried to kiss him. 

The dickhead. He had the audacity to smirk at that exact moment. The smugness on his features made you want to punch him all over again. 

“I think you don’t hate me as much as you pretend to,” Eddie sneers. 

“You tricked me,” you sputtered. 

He just shrugged. “What was that again, the thing you said about kind of wanting to kiss me?”

Humiliation bloomed across your face. “That was before I realized it was you, asshole.”

“The grand facade’s crumbling now, sweetheart. You like me. Don’t deny it.”

“As fucking if!”

“Denial ain’t just a river in Egypt, you know.”

You were so infuriated that you felt dizzy. You felt really dizzy. And unignorably so. You gripped the wall and fought a wave of nausea. 

Eddie spoke your name. You vaguely registered the concern in his voice amid your nausea. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

You pushed him aside and ran for the bathroom. By the mercy of the heavens, it was unoccupied, and you promptly ejected everything you’d consumed that evening into the toilet. You were so out of it that you didn’t realize Eddie had followed you into the bathroom until you felt the cool press of his silver rings on the back of your neck, smoothing your sweaty hair away. 

“Go away,” you groaned, spitting the bitterness from your mouth. 

Eddie didn’t move. In contrast to the sweet tenderness of his fingers on your neck, his voice was acidic. “Not surprised a girl like you doesn’t know her limits.”

“Fuck you.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You puked again, and he held your clammy forehead. You could have been imagining it, but you swore you heard him apologize then. As another wave of vomit came up, he waited for your convulsions to finish before he murmured that he’d be right back. A few moments later, he returned with an empty solo cup, which he filled with water from the sink and handed to you. More grateful than you were willing to admit, you rinsed your mouth and spat. You realized his hands were on you again, smoothing back your hair from your forehead, but you didn’t say anything about it. 

“Why didn’t you say it was you?” you croaked, gripping the porcelain with white knuckles. 

“You gonna be okay? You seem really crossed.”

“No shit, Sherlock.” You looked at him wryly. “Answer the question.”

Eddie cocked an eyebrow. “Well…Chrissy invited me, which is why I was looking for a Halloween mask. Found one, by the way.” He held up the flimsy Michael Myers mask. “I didn’t know you were going to be here either, for the record.” 

You cursed silently in your mind. Damn Chrissy. That must have been why she had been acting so strange. She’d invited him before she’d known the situation between you two. 

He still hadn’t really answered your question, so you asked another one. “Where’d you get the mask?”

“What?”

“The mask. We don’t carry that one at my parents’ store.”

“Borrowed it from a friend,” he replied. “I take it you like it?”

“Seriously? You’re such a creep.”

“And you’re such a priss,” he accused, his tone changing. “Did you plan that shit with Josh? That was a real dick move, Y/N.”

“First of all, don’t call me that. And second of all, I didn’t know he’d be here either, obviously. He’s the last person I wanted to see at this party.”

“Oh, so not me?”

You gritted your teeth. “In case it wasn’t obvious, I wasn’t thrilled to see you here, either.”

He hummed, an intoxicating sound, as he regarded you with a belittling expression. “Hmm. Your actions earlier begged to differ.”

“Screw you.”

“You know, before your meathead ex came, I couldn’t wait to take off the mask. Just to see the shock on that pretty, bratty little face of yours when you realized it was me.” 

“So that’s why you didn’t say it was you? You just wanted to piss me off?”

“No. I wanted to confirm a suspicion.”

When he didn’t continue, you shot him a look of exasperation. He leaned in closer, his dark eyes glinting with subtle wickedness.

 “I had a feeling you still like me like that. Like me more than you pretend to hate me. Like me enough to kiss me. And I was right.”

You gaped. “You are seriously disturbed. Like seriously fucked up in the head, Munson.”

“You get so testy when you know you’re wrong but just can’t admit it. It’s cute.”

Amid your nausea, your fury flashed. “Josh was right about you. You’re just a pretentious, self-centered perv.”

Eddie’s expression darkened. He set his jaw and just stood up and backed away toward the door. You immediately regretted your words. But you couldn’t take them back, not when you felt another flash of nausea.

“You’re so full of shit, Y/N,” he said. 

“Blow me,” you responded. 

 He didn’t say anything more, but you heard him leave the bathroom as you puked again. 

You weren’t left alone for long, though. Eddie must have found Chrissy and sent her, because she came in a few moments later. 

“Shit,” she said, immediately wetting a washcloth with cool water and pressing it to your neck. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, I mean, I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that Eddie would be here.”

You really couldn’t stay mad at her—not when you already felt this shitty, not when she was being so kind and helping take care of you. “It’s okay,” you whispered. 

“I should have told you. It’s just—he’s my friend, and you’re my friend, and I was worried you wouldn’t have wanted to stay at the party if you knew he was coming, and I wanted to tell you that it was him with the Michael Myers mask, but I didn’t get a chance—”

“Chrissy.” You grasped her hand. “It’s okay.”

She squeezed your hand and smiled sheepishly. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yeah. I just smoked too much, I think. Did Jason see you?”

“I think so, but he didn’t approach me. I gave Anthony my telephone number, though. He was super nice, we—” She cut herself off. “Never mind, that’s not important right now. What the hell happened with you? I saw Josh storm out with Jason—and then Eddie, he looked…”

You sighed. “Was he upset?”

“Well, he didn’t look happy.”

You felt a strange combination of emotions toward the man. Anger that he hadn’t revealed himself to you, frustrated about his accusations that you were attracted to him.

Panic that you were, in fact, attracted to him. 

All of that, mixed with the guilt of the names you’d called him, and for the compromising position you’d put him in with Josh. Who was, for all intents and purposes, Eddie’s former high school bully. 

You propped yourself up so your back was resting on the bathtub and did the best you could to summarize everything to Chrissy through your waves of nausea. She couldn’t get past one small detail from your narrative, though. 

“So…you’re into Eddie, too?” she asked when you finished. 

“What? No, I’m — wait? Are you into Eddie?”

Chrissy laughed and shook her head. “No. He’s just a friend. That’s not what I’m saying. I—okay, I know I shouldn’t say this, because I know you guys hate each other or whatever. But Eddie’s liked you since middle school. Like, like liked you. And he still does—or, at least he still did a few months ago, last time he brought it up.”

You reeled. “What are you talking about?”

“He has a crush on you, Y/N.”

You shook your head. The motion made you see stars. “No. No he doesn’t.”

“Yes, he does. It’s so obvious, too, even if he hadn’t told me.”

“But he’s an asshole.” You pressed the palms of your hands to your aching temples. “If he has a crush on me, then why is he such a dick to me?”

Chrissy mused for a moment. “One time, when I was in grade school, this boy—his name was Chucky Lars, I remember—used to yank on my ponytail everyday at recess,” she said. “And one day when I tried to tell my teacher about it, she said he probably was being mean to me because he just liked me. So…maybe it’s like that with Eddie?”

“Chrissy, that’s so fucked up.”

Chrissy shrugged. “Yeah, it is. I don’t know. I mean… Maybe it has to do with Josh?”

You chewed your cheek. Did Eddie blame you for what Josh and his cronies did to him behind the gym? You remembered seeing Eddie in passing the week after the incident. He had a black eye; Josh had got him good. It made you feel disgusted to think you were dating someone who was capable of that violence against another person, even if what Eddie had done to you was unfair with the plagiarism.

Which is why you’d broken up with Josh later that day. 

But you had never spoken another word to Eddie about it, about anything. 

All this time, had he been holding a grudge against you…because he thought you’d been behind Josh’s vindictions?

Did Eddie dislike you as much as you disliked him because of a misunderstanding that you’d put your ex boyfriend up to beating him up?

Too much to think about. Your thoughts span. Luckily, your head and stomach were starting to feel better. 

Hesitantly, you heaved yourself up onto your feet. Chrissy held her hands out to steady you. 

“You okay?” she asked. 

“I’m good. Fuck, I’m never getting crossfaded again. This shit sucks.”

“I’d pity you, but it’s your own fault,” Chrissy laughed. “Do you wanna come out to the party, or do you wanna go lie down in my room for a bit?”

You pondered. “Can I sit on the couch?”

“Sure, but just warning you, my friend JJ from philosophy was sitting there when I left. He might try to chat your ear off about optimistic nihilism.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad.”

You carefully followed Chrissy back out to the party, which had mellowed out significantly since your departure to the bathroom. But as you settled onto the couch beside JJ, who was just launching into a critique of Nietzche, you couldn’t help but notice the way your eyes were scanning the room, absentmindedly looking for Eddie. 

✧・ﾟ:*✧・ﾟ:*✧・ﾟ:*

A/N: What did y’all think about ch2? A lot happened in this one! What are your thoughts about what was revealed about “the incident” between Reader and Eddie? What are your predictions about what will happen??

Please note that I write fanfiction for free; my only request for repayment is a genuine expression of your thoughts, opinions, likes/dislikes, and predictions about the story. Whether it’s simply a “Wow, I loved it!”, a keyboard smash, a series of convoluted thoughts in the tags, or even a full-out review, please know that any and all feedback is welcome!

Much love ♡ from Juni (on vacation currently 🏖️)

No taglist sorry! But I love receiving asks anyway 🥺

[sapphicsmaximoff]

i want you - w.m

Summary: pt 3. of wanda finding her way back to you.

Warnings: mentions of drinking

A/N: it seems like everyone liked the other parts so i’m finishing it up💁🏽‍♀️

i don’t need you i missed you

Wanda had traveled all the way to your small home out in the Long Island suburbs of Suffolk County. You’d brought her here a few times, and to your beach house out in the Hamptons.

When the taxi stopped in front of the house, she said her “thank you”s and gave him his fare in cash. Exiting the car, the wind blew in her hair as she walked up the driveway.

It was early in the morning, and she could tell by the shape you were in that you weren’t doing much early runs or early morning push-ups anymore. It wasn’t a horrible thing, but it was noticeable.

She steps into the porch, deciding that she has nowhere she could run, and just knocks on the door. She shifts nervously on her feet, sighing when the door opens, but it’s not who she expects.

“Carol?” Wanda remembered Carol from when you guys were the only girls on the football team in high school. She was hopeful that your bonded friendship hadn’t become more. “Wow! Wanda, it’s been forever, man!” Wanda gasps at the tight hug she receives. The blonde backs away, motioning towards the other woman’s hair.

“Love the red, suits you.” The redhead chuckles, still reeling from the hug. “Thanks.” Carol moves back, showing her inside.

“I’m assuming you came to see Y/N, but if not, you can still come in.” Wanda moves inside, taking in the small bungalow in. The first thing she noticed was you sleeping on the couch.

Carol locks the door, before following her gaze. “She enjoys it for some reason. I told her not to cuz she’s got a bad back, but she can’t stop. Apparently…” She pauses, moving to the kitchen and Wanda follows.

“Sam was having issues and she let him take her room while she slept on the couch, I guess it’s comfortable now.” Wanda frowns at the explanation. What more did she have to learn about?

A sound startled her slightly when she notices the back door open. “Ok, so I just talked to Peter, and-“ Y/N’s younger sister, Andrea, walked into the kitchen, way older than when Wanda last saw her, no longer a high school freshman. The girl looks up, her eyes widening as she pauses.

“Is that Wanda Maximoff?” Wanda chuckles, nodding as Andrea whispers a squeal, grasping Wanda in a hug. “My god, did you put on baby weight?” The younger girl says, making Wanda scoff as she pushes her back. She hold up her hand in surrender.

“My bad. Last time I saw you, you were gonna give birth to twins. Now it’s been 9 years, you’re married, I’m engaged.”

“I know, it’s crazy-. Wait did you just you were engaged?” Her eyes light up when Andrea shows her a ring on her finger. “Yes! 2 months in counting, Y/N won’t admit it, but she definitely chose the ring.” Wanda observes the ring with raised eyebrows. “Oh wow.”

A shuffle from the living room gets their attention. Your figure rises from the couch as you sniffle. You rub your nose before standing up and stretching. You almost fall back on the couch as you wobble, but hold yourself up. Andrea snickers, and you look up at them.

Your eyes easily find them, and unbeknownst to her, you knew she was here, you weren’t a heavy sleeper, but she didn’t have to know that. Wanda? Two days in a row? Hell must’ve frozen over. “Don’t make fun of a cripple.” You mutter walking up the tiny step to the kitchen, completely ignoring the odd woman out.

You limp to the fridge, grabbing the bottle of orange juice and reaching in a cabinet to get a cup. “Hey, did you know Wanda was in town? I guess she wanted to stop by.” Carol tries, knowing the tension had begun to rise. “I can see.” You don’t say it in a rude way, but as a matter of fact.

Wanda’s never heard you speak like that around her, unless you were talking about someone or something you hated. Andrea clears her throat, speaking up. “Uh…Peter has an event for the mayor later today, so I’m gonna make sure he’s set up. I’ll hopefully see you later?“ Wanda nods with a smile. She grabs her bag that was on the table, and walks towards the door.

Carol makes her way towards the garage as you grab the bagel off the fridge. “I gotta go to work, so…” You roll your eyes, popping the bagels in the toaster oven. “You guys fucking suck, I hate you both.” The two shrug, leaving you two alone.

Wanda sighs, looking down with a sad face at the way you were speaking about her as if she wasn’t there. After a short while, the bagels pop up, and you grab them, spreading butter and cream cheese on both halves. You grab a napkin, and limp towards the table.

Wanda just watches you as you begin to eat, making you pause. “Do you want to talk or not?” She could recall that tone, the same one she’d given you once.

She warily sits in a seat opposite you. You smile to yourself, but not in a happy way. “Ya know, yesterday…it helped. I know all about what you’ve become. I’ve watched from very far. I just want you to be ok, no matter how you treat me. That’s why I waited. I waited for a decade. We told each other we were gonna wait, and you didn’t, and I was ok with that. I waited, I kept my distance, and then you sat in a public and ripped my fucking heart out in front of all those people!” She almost flinched at your volume, almost.

She knew you, you only yell when your frustrated. “I don’t know why I did it.” She whispered. “Did you even love me?” She furrows her eyebrows. “What?! Of course I did.”

“Two years of dodging me, not giving me a chance to talk and then embarrassing me in front of people I don’t know? Nine years of radio silence after writing me back saying I was pathetic? THATS NOT LOVE, WANDA!” You were very upset, almost to the point where you were already giving yourself a headache.

“I don’t know what I could say-“

“I wanted to propose.”

“…”

“I gave Vision the ring. After that, I left. Not a month or two later and now I can barely walk. How sad.”

“I’m sorry that I wasn’t there for you.”

“Yeah, because the guilt is weighing on you. You’re just a coward. I walked in there with a level head, and that look on your face?” You take a deep breath.

“I almost didn’t want to tell you I moved on too.” Wanda lets out a shaky breath. “You’d just run away again, cut me off, right?…Her name is uh…you remember Yelena, Natasha’s sister? She was in Dre’s grade. We met at the engagement party, hit it off.” She almost doesn’t want to believe it.

“I forgot you existed, that was until Felicia invited me here.” You finish eating before standing. Your eyes bore into hers.

“You have a husband, you have children. If you can to apologize, I forgive you. If you came to reconcile because you dropped your very nice husband, I’ve moved on. I still love you. Whether you ever really loved me? That’s something you have to figure out.” You toss your trash in the can.

“If you need a ride to the train station, Bucky’s in the room by the closet, I can’t drive anymore, legs give out at bad times.” You have a small smile on your face as Wanda nods, standing up.

“I just…I don’t know why I did that to you. I thought being cruel would keep you away, and it worked, unfortunately. I-I loved the chase between us, you were so emotional and I wanted you to come after me, and then I got annoyed. I hope you and Yelena last forever, longer than us.” You nod, watching her walk away towards Bucky’s room.

[alittlextrathatway]

Penelope/Colin: “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave.”

YAY SOMETHING BESIDES BRETTSEY. (Not that I don’t love them.) I’ve never written Polin before! I’m excited to play! 🙌🏻 Thank you!

How about a modern AU for this one? Just cause.

******

It all started because of the pandemic.

He’d been perfectly happy traveling. It’s not like he had anything else to occupy his time. He wasn’t particularly talented and he didn’t have any hobbies or interests. Aside from eating but he doubted his mother would approve of him becoming one of those professional hot dog eaters and he didn’t care enough for the piddly portions of fine dining to become a food critic.

The only thing that truly distracts him from his lack of drive or ambition is traveling — learning about the world and it’s many cultures.

He has journal after journal full of his discoveries and experiences. Travel is really his only love.

Which is why he’d stopped and started his studies so many times. He took a year between high school and college to backpack through Europe. Then another year after freshman year to “study abroad”, not that he actually studied. Which is why his mother forced him to come back and finish his third year stateside. After that, he’d set off traveling again. Every year he found another excuse not to come home for any longer than a month or two, allowing him to put off his final year.

It’s not as if he’s getting a degree in anything useful. He’s an English major. And it’s not as if his career isn’t already decided for him. Upon graduation he’ll be given an office at Bridgerton Family Publishing. Doing what? Well, no one knows. Not even him.

So, what’s the rush?

He’d still be gone abroad right now if not for COVID forcing him to return home. God, he hates 2020. What a waste of a year. He came home too late for the spring 2020 term so he’s spent the last several months going absolutely crazy.

He’s a man of the world who is not being allowed to go out and see it. He can’t imagine anything more cruel.

Actually, no, he takes that back. There’s one thing:

Using the time he’s forced to stay in Mayfair to discover he’s completely and stupidly in love with his little sister’s best friend.

The friend who overheard him, last time he was home for any considerable length of time, declaring to his brothers that he would never be interested in her.

Because, of course, Colin Bridgerton is a colossal jackass who doesn’t know a good thing when it’s been staring him in the face his entire life.

There’s laughter coming from the direction of the foyer. Very distinctive laughing. One high and tinkling like a pretty little bell and the other deeper and hoarser. The alto to the other’s soprano. The alto in this case is his younger sister, Eloise, and the soprano is Penelope.

The woman he should have noticed long before now.

He gets up from where he’s lounging on the sofa, mournfully watching the Travel Channel, and takes his plate full of sandwiches with him.

He finds them giggling and applying lipstick in the mirror by the front door. They look dressed to go out. Eloise in her slick tailored pant suit and intricately adorned lace top, in monochromatic lavender. And Penelope in…

Holy shit, what is that?

Apparently, it’s the instrument of his imminent death if the erratic beating of his heart is any indication. He’s going to have some sort of attack and go into cardiac arrest right here in the foyer of his childhood home.

It’s a tight forest green dress that has an off the shoulder neckline. It hugs her curves so perfectly that he thinks someone must have sewn it onto her. It shows the perfect amount of skin along her neck and shoulders, giving just a tiny glimpse of cleavage.

And she’s had a haircut since she was here yesterday. Her ginger locks now rest against her cheeks in a wavy stylish bob. She was beautiful before. He was never blind to that as some other people around Pen have proven to be, but now...

She’s absolutely stunning.

So stunning that other people will surely see what he sees. And he’s grateful for that, truly. She deserves to be seen as she is — brilliant and beautiful — but that means he’s about to have competition while trying to win her over. And he is not grateful for that.

He’s been trying to be more forward with her when they’re alone but that doesn’t happen often and he’s not sure Penelope takes him very seriously. (No one does.) She seems to always be in disbelief when he flirts with her.

“Where are you two off to?” He asks, leaning against the wall opposite the mirror.

“Double date,” Eloise says, fluffing her hair in the mirror. “Pen arranged it. She met someone extremely gorgeous at the library today.”

Penelope blushes and grins demurely. “It’s the magic of a fresh cut,” she says motioning to her new hair. “He was there with his friend and we were all scrambling for resources for our bibliographies together and he asked if I wanted to get dinner and I asked if Eloise could come. No big deal.”

“It doesn’t look as if it’s not a big deal,” Colin observes, his gaze sweeping over Penelope from head to toe.

“His father owns that new super exclusive restaurant Kate’s been begging Anthony to take her too. You know, La Table Gourmande?” Eloise explains.

“The one that told Anthony the next available reservation was in two months? That restaurant?” Colin asks, trying not to scowl.

Really, there was no need for this guy to show off. He seems a bit full of himself.

“That’s the one,” Penelope replies with a nod. “He says he can get us the Chef’s table tonight. I’ve never done anything like that before. It sounds exciting. Might be the closest I ever get to authentic French cuisine. For a while anyway.”

Okay, so now he feels like a heel for wanting to keep her from going out. He knows he’s lucky his family is so well off. It allows him to travel. Penelope’s family, while not destitute, has spent most of their surplus funds putting three daughters, soon to be a fourth, through school. In fact, if not for a distant rich aunt who died they wouldn’t even have been able to afford that.

Any money Penelope used to travel would have to be her own, and he isn’t sure how much of that she has.

“Pen,” Eloise calls, interrupting Colin’s thoughts. “Have you seen my clutch? Did I bring it down?”

“I don’t see it anywhere,” Penelope says with a shake of her head. “Did you leave it on your dresser?”

Eloise groans in irritation, turning toward the main staircase of their massive house. “I guess I did. I’ll be right back.”

Finally, they’re alone. Colin clears his throat and sets the plate of sandwiches he’d been snacking on down on the hall table. He crosses the space until he’s standing mere inches away from her.

“Don’t go out tonight. I can take you somewhere else. Somewhere better,” Colin suggests.

“Better?” Penelope asks skeptically.

He nods. “I have a friend who opened a restaurant here that I met while I was in Nice. It’s smaller than that La Table Gourmand monstrosity and not quite considered fine dining but it’s real. It’s better. It’ll be closer to actually being in France than anything in that obnoxious place.”

“I don’t see why I can’t go with Marcus tonight and then you some other time,” she tells him, lifting one perfect brow and pursing her lips.

“This guy sounds like a prick,” Colin says with a scoff. “Bragging about his father’s connections on the first date? That’s not a good sign, Pen. Trust me, I know these things. I’m a guy.”

“Maybe,” she says with a shrug, a small knowing grin on her lips. “But I think I should decide that for myself. Don’t you?”

That grin…

She knows exactly what he’s trying to do.

She’s being difficult on purpose.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t leave,” she challenges him, continuing to grin smugly.

Well, if that’s the game she wants to play then so be it.

“Why waste a night figuring out what I already know when you could just let me take you out instead for what, we both know, would be a better time?” Colin asks, caressing the length of Penelope’s arm with a light tender touch.

She sucks in a breath at the contact, but doesn’t show any weakness in her expression. “Yes, but going out with Marcus would be a date that might actually lead to something. What would be the purpose of ditching a real date for you instead?”

“Oh, you want it to lead to something?” He asks, a smirk growing on his face as he backs her up toward the wall.

“Y—yes,” she stammers, her grin slipping as nerves shine in her eyes.

Her back hits the wall and he brings one hand to her cheek, cupping her face and trailing his thumb along her cheekbone.

He leans down, nearly closing the distance between them but stops just short of kissing her. “Come out with me, Pen, and you can choose where it leads. I’ll give you whatever future I have, even if I have no idea what it is. You set the terms, you call the shots.”

Her eyes widen and her cheeks flush but she instinctively leans into his hand. Call him a cocky bastard, but that’s the moment he knows he’s won. The moment he knows she’ll choose him.

“I set the terms?” She asks, biting her bottom lip while she stares at his.

He nods, waiting for the moment she leans up and kisses him.

“Well, then you know what I think?” She asks, rhetorically while she rests a hand on his chest.

“Tell me,” he pleads.

She smiles wickedly and pushes him away by one step. “I think you could do with some healthy competition.”

She sidesteps him and saunters off to the front door, leaving him gaping at her like a fool.

Like a besotted, astonished, completely smitten fool.

Eloise reappears, patting Colin’s shoulder as she follows after Penelope. “Tell mom we’ll be back late.”

They leave, the door shuts, and all he can think is…

Well played, Penelope Featherington.

But the Bridgertons are famously competitive and this game is only just beginning. He’ll win her over yet.

Wait and see.

[alreadyblondenow]

When December comes | Hendery

✦ Hendery x reader x Lucas ✦ Fluff, Smut, Angst, Royalty AU, Nutcracker AU ✦ 3/5 for HOLIDAY SERIES: Once Upon A December

Summary: As an adopted legitimate princess and future queen of two kingdoms, you grew up proving yourself that you deserve the role that has given to you. Nothing is simple about being an adopted princess but being arranged to marry Prince Hendery turned your life upside down.He left you, eventually. And by the time he came back to your life, you have a loving boyfriend, and Prince Hendery…. is arranged to be married to your sister now.  

Word count: 8,690k

Warnings: adopted reader (if thats triggering at any point, please click away) A lot of smut, unprotected sex, mentions of sex, swearing, mentions of other idols, fingering, mentions of rough sex, heavy cheating, major character death

A/N: PURE FICTION. This is a love triangle fic but not much focused to Lucas, more on Hendery. Inspired by a bunch of royalty movies, especially princess diaries, Nutcracker (ballet), inspired by the song Satisfied from Hamilton. Love writing for Hendery so much. Check my recent post for Hendery’s thirst photos whahaha, as per Lucas character here idk I always see him as sweet and lovable and he always knows what to do. The guy has serious good leadership skills if you haven’t’ notice and i think its sexy. I’m glad this didnt reach to 10k bc u know me i hate my works being long af haha enjoy reading mwa!

For @jeongyoonohs​ sorry it took me so long to finish this :( But this is for you! 

OPENING

Once upon a time, in a kingdom not so far away, ruled by a king and queen who can’t have a baby no matter how many times they’ve tried. The sad news spread all over the kingdom and caused chaos everywhere mainly because they were scared for the fall of their beloved kingdom.

But the king is wise. He made an alliance with the kingdom of his truest friend and together they helped each other’s kingdom by making an agreement. “I can’t have a child, but my queen and I have decided to adopt a baby girl,” the king says to his fellow king.

“And my wife is carrying a baby boy”

“It’s settled then. My adopted daughter will be arranged with your son, and someday be married to each other” They shook hands and made the agreement official by sealing it with their signatures and royal seals in front of their queens.

The kingdom that lost their trust with their king is now calmed relieved after hearing the great news of the two kingdoms having an alliance. And to fully earned their trust again, they searched far and wide for a baby girl that will soon be the future of their kingdom.

“And that baby girl is you my darling” your grandfather finishes his bedtime story to you. Caging you in his strong arms, cradling you like you’re truly related by blood. “Grow up as a fine woman and save this kingdom” he added. You embraced your grandfather back and smiled so sweetly at him, tracing his handsome features… then you remembered.

“Tell me the story about the Nutcracker prince,” you singsong to him. He doesn’t tell you the original story, but instead, he always tells you his version and it’s always better. His embrace became tighter, then he looked at his expensive watch to check how many minutes does he have left.

“Okay. I only have a few minutes left, princess” He started by introducing the Nutcracker prince to you which is actually magical because even though you’ve heard of this so many times it never gets old and you’re always excited to hear it again.

He described the prince as a soldier like him, but a younger version he says with a giggle. And that Nutcracker slash prince slash soldier is made specifically for you so that one day, the two of you can rule two kingdoms all at once. “Why do I need a prince?” you pout, and your grandfather is startled by your question.

“Well, jeez, I don’t know. I’m sure you can still be a fine queen without a prince, right?” he says while tucking you in and preparing you for bed. “But let’s just say that princesses like you need a proper man like the Nutcracker because… grandfather will not always be by your side” of course he can’t mention death to you, no, you’re too young to know about these things. So he kissed you goodnight on your forehead and promise to see you early in the morning again.

Growing up as an adopted princess was never easy because the eyes of a judging kingdom have always been against you and your family. That’s why as you grow up, you swore to yourself that you will prove them wrong and that you are the future of this kingdom. At a very young age, you made your parents proud of your gift of leadership and continue to make them proud by doing great in school.

Until one day, the queen finally got pregnant.

The kingdom became so busy about the queen’s pregnancy and literally, every person is excited about your baby sister. You were only nine years old and you were innocent as you can be so you don’t know that the attention is slowly shifting to your baby sister. You didn’t mind of course, again, you were just a kid. But as you grew older and older you can finally foresee a life behind the shadow of your baby sister. The real princess. It’s like she took everything from you… but whenever you remember that you’re adopted, it seems like she’s just taking what’s originally hers in the first place.  

Today is your thirteenth birthday and you celebrated it with your grandfather in an amusement park. He is the only person left in your life who can see you as a rare gem and you’re thankful for him. As you walked around the busy park, with a few bodyguards on your sides, you and your grandfather laugh and laugh while you’re eating hotdogs on a stick.

“Your father told me that you refused to have a ball for your thirteenth birthday? Why?” he asked while enjoying his food.

“I’m not a real princess grandfather, I don’t deserve a ball. And besides, riding that scary rollercoaster is better than dancing with a bunch of princes whom I don’t know in the first place, and playing dress-up the whole night”

“Hmm. Don’t you say that you’re not a real princess, there was a Y/n before your baby sister. And the kingdom is still looking forward with you ruling us someday because you’re older than your sister and you’re still a legi-“

“timate daughter, I know, I understand grandfather thank you for reminding me” you wiped the ketchup on his lips and smiled at him, “What will I do without you? I hope that my Nutcracker prince is exactly like you. Wise and strong”

“Don’t worry about that darling, you’re still young, and I’m still here” he giggles and walks you towards that scary rollercoaster ride.

ACT 1

Things slowly change around the castle and you learned to distant yourself from your parents but not forgetting your duty as a first born and legitimate adopted daughter of the king and queen. And as you enter royal high school, you thought that your life will get uglier but no. Surprisingly, school made you feel alive and less of a princess and more like a future leader.

But most importantly, you finally met your Nutcracker. Prince Hendery.

Usually, prince and princesses meet for the first time during a royal ball, soiree, or a simple lunch at the palace’s garden grounds. But you and Prince Hendery, met in the school hallway for the first first time. It is as if your whole world slowed down, every student walked in slow motion while you and Hendery locked eyes on each other. And the best part is, he did not know that you’re the princess who’s meant to be forever with him.

At first, you don’t talk to each other and just simply exchange smiles and glances from time to time whenever you cross paths in the hallway, eating at the cafeteria, or ‘reading’ at the library. You thought it wasn’t fair that you know everything about him but he doesn’t even know what you look like.

“You know I’ve been flirting with this princess for months already, do you know her name?” Hendery whispers at his fellow prince, Xiaojun, and told him to take a look at where you’re seated. Xiaojun then scoffed at his friend and playfully slapped Hendery’s face knowing that he is completely clueless about who you are.

“I don’t know if you’re always going to be this dumb, you’re going to be a king someday. Anyway, that princess is Y/n. The Y/n” and that is all it takes to make Hendery realize that he has been flirting with his soulmate for weeks now.

From there on the prince has become bold with his gestures. Sitting with you during breaks, even flirting with you in front of your friends and his friends. Prince Hendery has the most beautiful smile you have ever seen, hair is black and soft and you bet it smells good either, he was tall but just right for your height. Not only he was perfectly handsome, but he is a gentleman too. In other words, everything about him screams prince charming.  

You and prince Hendery were the talk of royal school. Everyone knew about your arrangement and the alliance of your kingdoms. You even hear people talk on the hallways that you’re literally made for each other that’s why everyone envied you.

“Let’s grow up first, okay?” Hendery says, giving you a single rose during your school’s Valentine event. A simple gesture that says there's no need to rush on being in a relationship and make everything official between the two of you but also, it was a subtle move to show everyone that you already belong to each other so there should be no competition.

You fell in love with each other from a distance, not rushing through love, taking your time, and enjoying your youth because you have a lifetime together. Although, Hendery likes reminding everyone that you’re his in the most subtle way, may it be hugging you in public, kissing your cheek before you go home, and smiling your way whenever he sees you around the school.

From freshman year until your senior year, you and Hendery waited until you’re both legal of age to finally make it official. The news was all over the TV, tabloids, articles, and magazines that you’re in love with each other. It was a cute high school sweethearts story and every day was perfect.

Senior year just started and you and Hendery decided to study together but the planned study session became a make out session, giggling and cuddling in his bed while still wearing your uniforms. The prince was looking at you, admiring your pretty face touching your features softly then suddenly he noticed that he can almost see your breast. He looked away, of course. And covered his head with one of his pillows as he groans in frustration.

“What? Why?” you asked, completely clueless. He didn’t answer you, instead, he covers your exposed skin with a small pillow. “Oh shit, I’m sorry” you apologized immediately and became shy like him too.

“It’s okay. If I’m being honest I wanted to touch you but, I knew better than that. Can we promise to be each other’s first and last?”

“You mean sex?”

“Exactly, sex”

“Only if we seal it with a kiss,” you bite back in a flirty tone, looking at his pink lips that are slowly coming closer to you. When your lips touched, you returned the kiss and swing your arms around his neck, situating him accidentally in between your legs. Skirt lifted and all. Your bodies are becoming warm in an instant and you both know you need to stop before you make wrong decisions.

“How's that for a promise? Let’s get married when we grow older and have sex every day” he bit the shell of your ear, making you giggle and laugh with him. Being this horny with each other is normal, you thought. You are both young and full of passion, and it amazes you how Hendery wanted to wait until you get married and be kings and queens.

Senior year is perfect. Every day.

Until one day, Hendery’s father died and he stopped coming to school. You hear different kinds of gossip every day. 'Is he a king now? That's why he's not coming to school?', 'School is boring for king Hendery now', 'Are they gonna be married soon?', 'Are they even ready to rule yet?'. Again, you were the talk of the nation. The headline ‘Prince Hendery left Princess Y/n’ was everywhere and you can't do anything about it. You weren’t hurt that he left everything, you were more worried because maybe he’s all alone and grieving. You wanted to ask his family but you respect their privacy.

“So he just left?” you told your grandfather everything. He just came back from his cruise around the world and you’re happy to see his visible tan lines, for sure he had a great time.

“Yep, just like that grandfather,” you walk shoulder to shoulder around the palace’s garden, looking at the flowers and harvesting some fruits.

“Well, I’m sure he had his reasons. Just stretch your patience my darling, you know what they say, love is patience” he pats your hand before picking a lemon. “Enough about the prince, I heard you are making quite an impression now. The king is beyond impressed” he was talking about your win, elected student body president. Apparently, it’s a big deal for your father, because, during his stay in royal school, he was elected as president too.

“I didn’t try too much, I think I won because of my popularity and not because of my leadership skills” you once again doubted yourself but of course, your grandfather is here to straighten you up.

“Show them you’re both. Popular and a great leader”

It was always a good talk with your grandfather, but whenever you remember that Hendery is not with you anymore it automatically makes you sad. You missed him. So much.  

ACT 2

But even though you missed Hendery and it’s like he took a part of your heart and brought it with him, life goes on. You faced Senior year and showed everyone your perfect smiles like nothing is bothering you. But at night, when you’re all alone, you just can’t help but look at your pictures with Hendery on your phone and miss him.

Life goes on.

With or without your prince.

You studied day and night, kept your eyes on the prize, and busy yourself until your heart is finally healed. You waited for him of course, you waited long and hard but you can’t wait forever.

As you continue to know yourself, get involved with a lot of organizations in college, your journey has become even more thrilling when you met Lucas. He’s not royalty nor does he came from a rich family, he’s “just a man who’s brave enough to ask a princess on a date” his exact words.

Lucas is a whole new adventure to you. He’s the epitome of new things and new experiences. But your favorite thing about Lucas is, he can make you forget that you’re a princess even just for a few hours. He made you happy every day because he never forgets to tell you that being happy is the most important thing in this world. He loves you with every part of his being. And he’s ready to face your world and be with you in every step until you become queen.

“N-no I don’t want to be king. I can be your butler and still love you for all I care” he covers your naked body while you both come down from your highs. Tonight is one of those nights that you can be with Lucas without having your bodyguard. He was praising you during sex, calling you ‘princess’ or ‘my queen’ whenever he thrust and pushes you on the edge, so you asked him a stupid question if he wants to be king. “I just want to be with you, people may see me as a gold digger once the news that you have a commoner boyfriend comes out, but we both know that’s not true right?”

“Of course, not” you embraced him and apologized for the question, hiding your face on his chest. You feel his big hands caress your back to comfort you and soon plant kisses on your temple. He’s always sweet and gentle like this. If only people would see the kind of person Lucas truly is.

“But what if he comes back? What will happen to us?” he was talking about Hendery. When Lucas knew that you’re arranged to be married to Hendery, he didn’t take it lightly. He was mad but not to you. You didn’t talk for weeks and you’re both heartbroken, but Lucas realized that it's better to love you fiercely now than waste his time worrying about the future.

“I will talk to my father, don’t worry about that. Wong Yukhei don’t you trust me?” you kissed his chest to put him back in the mood and change the subject. Of course, he can’t say no to you.  

After getting your degree in college, you started working for the king and queen, spearheading foundations, and knowing the kingdoms that you’re going to rule someday. Remember when you thought your parents will forget about your existence because they had your sister? Well, that didn’t happen. Your parents were proud of everything you’ve achieved and they wanted your sister to follow in your footsteps.

Slowly, you proved to them that you don’t need a king to rule this kingdom. Introducing Lucas to your parents did not go well at first but eventually, they saw that you and Lucas are happy with each other despite having different worlds.

Still, they want to keep your relationship hidden.

It’s Christmas Eve and you’re all dressed up right now, ready to shake a lot of hands and dance with a bunch of princes and dukes and god know what else but you can’t help but take care of a few things before you enjoy this night. You were signing some last minutes contracts and reading proposals when you heard a soft knock from your door, “S-sorry. Come in” you see your boyfriend dressed up in a tux, looking so handsome. He smiled at you before he enters and closed the door behind him, “well you look dashing” you put your pen down and crossed your arms.

“I’m here to pick you up your majesty, the guests are waiting downstairs and your grandfather-“

“Oh he’s here! Perfect!” you exclaimed and express your excitement upon hearing that your grandfather is here. You haven’t seen him for a very long time and you have lots of stories to tell him. “Oh shit- by the way. Lucas, uhm… Can you zip my dress, I forgot I unzip it because it was uncomfortable. Stupid ball gowns” you said, turning your back to Lucas and waiting for him to take care of your zipper. But before he zips you up, he kisses your exposed shoulders and massaged them.

“Don’t forget to have fun tonight okay? I’ll be watching you like a hawk the whole night- well actually, not you. The men that will dance with you tonight” Because Lucas has no rank or title, he can’t earn a dance with you because it’s against the conditions that your father gave.

“All done your majesty,” he says and stepped back to open the door for you.

Every Christmas Eve, throwing an extravagant ball has been your family’s tradition for centuries. It is known by royalties across the globe and this fancy Christmas party is actually part of your kingdom’s history. Different respective kings, beautiful queens, annoying princes and princesses, dukes and duchess are invited and all are here not only to have fun but also here to talk business with you.

The night goes on, dancing with a few guests before you meet and spend some time with your grandfather. You wanted to whine and complain to your assistant but she’s just doing her job so you shrugged it off. “How many more left?” you asked while waiting for the next Prince to ask to dance, “two more your majesty. Your grandfather is next after this” you smiled and thanked her, giving a bow to the next prince who’s about to dance with you. And the moment you lift your head to meet his eyes, you thought you were dreaming.

For a moment you forgot proper princess etiquette and gave Hendery a tight hug, shocking everyone at your behavior but they’re even more shocked about Hendery’s appearance. ‘The son of the dead king has finally shown himself’ you hear everyone murmur around you but you don’t care. You smiled so big seeing that handsome face again. He kissed your hand and asked you to dance which you accepted gladly, now that Hendery is back and you’re all dressed up wearing your tiara, you feel like a real princess finally meeting his prince in a storybook.

“Where have you been?” you whispered to him.

“I’m sorry I left you like that, I was devastated” he whispers back as you two dance in the middle of the ballroom with the other royalties, trying so hard to hide the excitement. While you were dancing with Hendery, you remember that handsome smile that made your knees weak, his sweet gestures to prove his feelings for you, and your promises to each other.

Is it really true that first love never dies or your love for Hendery was just too strong that it never died?

When Hendery was about to hand you over to your grandfather, your father and mother came out of nowhere with your younger sister on their side. Is it because they’re happy to see Hendery too? Or are they going to press you regarding the arranged marriage again? You cling to your grandfather as you get nervous but careful not to show it. “Ah! Hendery welcome back! How was your time in the army, good?” your father exclaims. So all this time he knew where Hendery is.

“I had a hard time your highness, but I made it back in one piece” Hendery answered and made a small joke that made you all giggle and let out a small laugh. Oh you missed him.

“Hendery, I want you to meet Y/n’s younger sister” you watch him kiss your sister’s hand, “and also your future bride to be”

You were completely taken aback by what you just heard and the words that came into your head were, ‘I thought you were mine’ but you didn’t speak your mind and listened further to what your father is saying. But as you listen more, you feel like your dress was becoming tighter and tighter in every second that you can’t breathe anymore. “She will be your queen in your kingdom, and Y/n will be an independent queen here” your father explained proudly.

“But she’s too young” you pointed at your sister but you see how your sister’s eyes are sparkling. Too late. You thought. You watch her be charmed by Hendery’s visuals, that damn smile captured your sister’s heart in an instant.

“Hendery can wait until his bride is in the right age to be married, right son?”

“Of course your highness, it’s my duty” he answered confidently.

After the unexpected talk, you excused yourself, went to your room, and breathed outside on your balcony. You can’t forget your sister’s face as she looks at the man you used to kiss and you used to love. She has no idea what controversy she will face in the future, she is so young and blinded by infatuation…Or maybe you’re being like this because you’re jealous.

“Believe me I’m just as shock as you are”

A familiar voice made your heart race and your body stiffen in no time. You turned around secretly hoped that you’re wrong, but you will never forget his voice and also how his mere presence makes your heart excited. “How did you get in here?”

You hear him scoff and stood behind you, “We used to make out a lot in your room-and mine too of course. I still remember the way to your room by heart” he looked up the stars to stop himself from looking at you. You looked so beautiful tonight that he can’t stop blushing and admiring you.

You were silent. Mainly because you don’t know what to say and you’re not sure what to feel either.

“It’s going to be fine” with all his courage he tried hugging you like how he used to when you were only teenagers. But you pushed him away and stepped away from him. Hendery felt a slight pang in his heart, he never thought that you could do that to him.

“Were not together now don’t you get it? You were gone for years Hendery, a lot has changed”

“You’re hurting me, this is not our fault we love each other what's wrong with that” he reasons out, trying to lower his voice because someone might hear him.

“Loved. Past tense. My sister likes you and you are arranged to be married to her Hendery” you close your eyes as you remember what happened again earlier.  

“If I have known that life will take you away from me, I shouldn’t have wasted my time and showered you with love and affection when we were young”

With a heavy heart, your first love left you in the cold night with a confused mind.

ACT 3

To make it up with your grandfather, you spend Christmas morning with him while drinking tea by the palace garden and telling him numerous stories about Lucas…and also your talk about Hendery last night.

“Don’t do something stupid that your future self with regret” he says, stirring his coffee and chewing his bread with jam. He was talking about cheating, he didn’t tell you exactly but you get it. “Did you tell your boyfriend already about what you felt upon hearing your sister’s engagement?” You shook your head and see your grandfather get disappointed but he understands that everything that’s happening now is not easy for you.

“He’s away, for now, left first thing in the morning to go to Hong Kong for his family” you felt hopeless again.

“Oh everything will be fine. I’m sure he will understand, that man is wise. I’m rooting for him” he says like Lucas is his son.

“What- really not Hendery?” you let out a laugh because your grandfather is cute.

“Nope. Now, don’t ask me why. Figure it out yourself” he winks and continues to eat his breakfast.

As days go by without Lucas, you and Hendery continue to meet each other accidentally whenever he visits your sister. You’re a busy woman, but your mind seems to have time to think whether they kissed already, hold hands, or admitted their feelings to each other if there's any.

You saw flowers on your way to your office and you thought that maybe it's for your sister, from Hendery and you can’t help but to get envious and jealous. He used to give you flowers back when you were in high school and now… he’s doing it to your sister too.

While you were reviewing proposals, you got a phone call from your personal phone and it's Lucas which you’re very excited to answer. “Hey” you singsong, putting the phone between your ear and neck while you continue to scan through papers.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch, everything okay back there?”

No. You wanted to tell him that you’ve been having these weird feelings towards Hendery. “No, baby. Everything’s fine, I’m working now… As usual- how's everyone there?”

“They miss you. They wanted you to visit next year” he says, breathing deeply before he continues. “Listen, I want to stay here for a little longer. I miss them too you know-“

“And it’s fine! Baby, I understand. You’ve done so much for me already, go and be with your family” you felt guilty for caging Lucas in your country. Even though he’s the one who wanted to stay here, still. You can feel that he’s homesick sometimes.

After working in your office, you went straight to your room and purposely skipped dinner because you knew that Hendery is still here. When you opened your door, the same flowers that you thought Hendery gave to your sister is sitting on your coffee table with a small envelope that has your name on it.

Dear Y/n,

Back when we were in high school, I gave you a single rose for Valentine's day and I told you, “Let’s grow up first”

Now that we're all grown up, and still obviously madly in love with each other, I will not hold myself back from loving you. Not anymore.

I’m sorry for leaving, please give me a chance and meet me at the back of the palace at midnight. I’ll be waiting.

H.

Bold of him to think that you’re still madly in love with him. How can he say that?

You look at the letter as you grow weak and let yourself flop on your couch, face first and still undecided if you’re going. Frustrated and guilty, that’s what you’re feeling ring now. Frustrated because you don’t know what to follow, your heart or your mind. Guilty because your heart says you should go.

At the end of the day, you find yourself walking in the dark on your way to the back of the castle to meet Hendery. Hugging yourself as you cling more in your thin cardigan, trying to keep yourself warm as you feel your heartbeat faster by every second you come closer to the meeting spot. You see Hendery at the back of a thick tree, face illuminated because of his phone screen. “Oh you’re here. Sorry I was about to ring your phone” he admitted.

“Why am I here? What do you want?” You asked in the softest way possible. He saw that you’re shivering and invited you to go around the tree. There you see a blanket and small pillows and the lake was perfectly lit by the moon. What a beautiful view. And while you were admiring the view, you feel him place his jacket around you and motions you to sit on the ground with him.

“Please for once let’s pretend I didn’t leave you. I didn’t want my father to die, I didn’t expect our kingdom to suffer. And you’re the only good thing that’s left to me. So please”

You looked at him for a second that soon turned into minutes. You bit your lower lip and you remember that you weren’t mad at him for leaving, so why are you mad at him now?

Slowly, you accepted the warmth that he offered and sat close to him, sharing the blanket and keeping you close. “You’re here to hear me apologize sincerely” he gulps before he starts talking and explaining why he left, looking into your eyes so you know he’s telling you the truth. He told you that his father’s last will is for him to join the army and to be a soldier because in his father’s eyes he’s not yet ready to be a young king so he didn’t have a choice but to leave.

You were heartbroken while hearing his part. “I was never mad at you for leaving. I was worried about you”

He smiled sweetly at you. The kind of smile that makes your body warm and heart flutter, he pulled you close and you let him. “I know. Mother told me you were looking for me, but she can’t tell you anything. I told her I’m the one who should tell you someday. I’m sorry” he embraced you tightly, his cheeks resting on your shoulders. And right then and there everything is clear to you. You still have feelings for him.

“What are we gonna do now? My sister, Lucas” you asked him as you rake away strands of hair from his face.

“I’m not in love with your sister” he admitted without hesitation.

“But I love Lucas” there’s that guilty feeling again. You feel your heart breaking for Lucas, he doesn’t deserve being cheated on like this.

“I thought you were mine” he whispers. And even if it's a whisper the hurt was obvious from the sound of his voice. He didn’t see it coming. He didn’t think that this will be more complicated than he imagined.

“Funny. I thought the same thing when my father told us you're enggaged to my sister” you admitted and scoffed.

“Give me a chance to win you back. And if you're not coming back to me, just let me be with you for a little longer. I beg you”

There was a moment of silence and Hendery understands that you needed that silence to think, “Okay” you said. And saying ‘okay’ never felt so wrong. You cupped his face and tried to turn this moment around, “what's it like to be away from home?”

“Sad. I think of you every day and of course my family but they get to see me but you... not even a picture just our memories in my head”

Now that Hendery is a prince slash soldier, you remember the Nutcracker story your grandfather used to tell you for bedtime. That’s when you realized that you and Hendery are truly made for each other.

But you have Lucas...

As your night with Hendery continues and makes up for lost time, the emotional reunion turned to giggles and laughs when your time together has ended. He invited you over to his own house for a date since he can’t take you out like he used to, and reminded you that you gave him a chance to win you back, and thanked you.

On the next day, your mind was blanked. You can’t believe that you’re cheating on Lucas and have been refusing to answer his calls.

Days went on like this until you’re not awkward with Hendery anymore and you’re comfortable again around him. He showered you with love, you accept it wholeheartedly. Every day was sweet with Hendery even though you’re both aware of the future consequences but no one seems to care for now.

You go to his place and spend time with each other, whether talking the whole night and telling each other stories, him making you giggle and laugh with your legs on top of his thighs while you both sit on his couch enjoying a glass of wine or whenever you’re busy reading something or you brought a little work at his place and he can easily take your stress away by making you laugh.

Today, you came early and decided to cook for him and have dinner together. You don’t know but Hendery is leaning on the door frame of his kitchen with a flower in his hand, watching you chop some peppers in his kitchen. He felt like he finally won you back. Just seeing you hum while you prepare dinner makes his heart so happy. He then walked slowly and hugged you from behind, resting chin at the top of your shoulders, and showed you the flowers he has for you.

You smiled so big, dropping the knife on the chopping board and turning around to give him a kiss.

That’s your first kiss again.

He was shocked but you did it again. You realized he was trying so hard that he’s slowly being successful in winning you back and you’re actually scared of the future but he makes you happy.

“What? It’s not like we haven’t kissed before” you touched his lips and felt his embrace tightens every second. “Dinner in 30 minutes” you smiled and went back to finish chopping the peppers and finding a nice vase for the flowers he gave.

After dinner, a few glasses of wine, cheese, and grapes, you and Hendery are buzzed and talking about work as prince and princesses while enjoying the view from his couch. The lights are turned down low and you didn’t even notice at first but the mood has been making you horny even though your topic was stressful and your minds are clouded with alcohol. You don’t know what came into your head but you sat on his lap with lidded eyes, touching his body feeling his hard rocked abs through his white dress shirt.

He giggles and laughed at you. He’s so fucking handsome when he does that. “Seriously you have to stop you will embarrass yourself in the next morning,” he told you to stop but he fixed the way he sits and made sure you were comfortable on top of him. He teased you more, smiling so handsomely and making your heart flutter.

“I'm not that drunk just buzzed. Want me to prove it?” You challenged with a flirty tone that turns him on.

“Mhmm. Okay,” he tilts his head and waited for this proof you were saying.

“I still remember how we sealed our promises with a kiss. Like that day when we promised to be each other’s first and last” your fingers went up to his hair, ruffling his soft black hair and massaging his scalp.

You don’t know what happened but the mood changes and he’s avoiding your eyes. ”I’m sorry,” he says.

“No no don’t be, you’re here now make it up to me” you kissed his neck while he gets drunk even more because of your kisses. Your hands are placed on his neck like you’re telling him you still belong to each other, rolling your hips slowly to make him horny as much as you are.

“Did you have sex with anyone already?” his question made you stop what you’re doing to him and pulling away from the kiss to look at him, you thought he didn’t like what’s happening. But to your surprise his lips went to your neck, kissing you softly but full of lust. You feel his warm tongue just below your jaw and it felt great.

“Lucas, how about you?” You moaned out, shamefully.

Usually, his heart will hurt whenever you mention Lucas, but he’s the one kissing you now. So instead of getting hurt, he smirked. “A couple of girls. Life can be stressful I need an adult stress release. Any kinks?”

“Not that I know of? You?”

He stopped and looked at you to tell you the story. “Well remember when we were making out and I accidentally saw your breasts?” you nod at him, “I think I developed some kind of breast kink and I always imagine that I’m having sex with you instead of a stranger” he admitted and looked at you clothed breast right now. “That's how much I miss you” he placed a gentle kiss on your lips and went back to leaning comfortably on the couch. He got shy but he can’t stop looking at you.

To be honest your heart swells knowing that he desperately wants you like that. As quickly as you can, you untuck your blouse and removed it in front of the prince. “You can experience the real thing tonight “ you intertwine your hand with his and slowly placed it on your breast.

Breathing heavily. Both of you. You’re like teenagers who are just about to have sex for the first time.

He sat up to meet your lips and kiss you the way you deserved to be kissed, slowly you feel his hand travel to your back to unclasp your bra. You removed and fed his lust, revealing your breast to him for the first time. Hendery was so nervous that his hands are shaking when he removed strands of hair away from your face and held you on your shoulders, slowly he lowered your body on his and started kissing your collar bones and chest before he proceeds to your breast.

It was quiet and all he can hear is your moans and the sound of his wet kisses. You wanted to tell him that his lips feel great against your skin, and simply tell him to fuck you already. When his mouth finally reached your hard nipples and bit them softly, you parted your lips and your arms swings around him and push his head to your breast even more. You noticed he knows how to use his tongue, you figured he has been doing this to someone else for years and years while the whole truth is he always wanted to do it to you. The way he flicked his tongue brings you back to reality and when he sucks your nipples good your grip on his hair tightens and when that happens he bites your nipples again to make you shiver. This man is good.  

He placed his hands just below your boob area to hold you still while he does whatever he wants to your breast. Sucking, pinching, bitting, and kneading. Everything felt good and your moans are good proof. With his strength, he got up from the couch and carried you to his room while you kiss with lust. He lay you down on his king-sized bed and kissed your body down while unbuttoning your pants and pulling them down until you’re only wearing your panties. Hendery then unbuttoned his dress shirt in between your spread legs, kneeling in front of you, stripping until he’s only wearing his boxers briefs. He situates his body on top of you grinding on your clothed private parts, hands all over each other’s body. He then went back to kissing your nipples and sucking them but little did you know Hendery is just distracting you while his hands are slowly coming down inside your panties.

With a great shock, you closed your eyes and parted your lips as you feel Hendery’s cold fingers slide up and down on your wet slit while his mouth is still sucking your nipples. It was a whirlwind of feelings, everything felt good, and seeing Hendery enjoy turns you on too. By the time you had your first orgasm, shaking and body so sensitive with swollen nipples, Hendery was kissing you softly and asking you in the most innocent way if you’re okay. The sound of his giggles makes you calm, the way he whispers soft praises beside your ear while his hands roam freely around your body. Truth is he’s genuinely happy right at this moment because he doesn’t need to imagine anymore.

He went back to kissing your body down until he reaches your wet core and licks it up and down for a while before he lines his cock. In between your widely spread legs, you watch Hendery lick you good and feel him moan from time to time. “Hendery” you called him, kneeling in between your legs in an instant, flashing his beautiful body to you. His skin is flawless, strong arms, perfect abs, and of course, fucking beautiful smile. Everything about him makes you weak right now that you just opened your legs, reach for hard cock, and line it to your entrance yourself. “Woah” he giggled and stopped you, “Okay calm down, I’ll fuck you good I promise” he pumped his cock in front of you and lines it immediately just how you want it and slowly enters you. He wasn’t big like Lucas but he kept his promise, he fucked you good.

So good that you asked for more as you grip his Egyptian cotton sheets and let your body be dragged with every hard thrust he give you.

So good that you asked him to go slower because you don’t want it to end yet.

So good that you asked him to cum inside you and asked for another round.

On your third orgasm, your hole is dripping with mixes of your cum and Hendery’s while the handsome prince is kissing your neck as you come down from your high. “I love you” he whispers but he was too late, you were sleeping soundly already, arms wrapped around his neck. He smiled and kissed you one last time before he pulls out and cleans you up.

He didn’t sleep that night, he just watched you sleep beside him. Let you cling to him in the middle of the night, watch you roll in his bed and expose your body, but of course, he’s quick to cover you again. And when the time comes, he wakes you with kisses on your shoulders, embracing you tightly and kissing you more.

“Wake up” you hear him whisper and you try to open your eyes the moment he told you so. You see his window, it was still dark so you closed your eyes again. “Want to watch the sunrise with me? You’re going to love it” he went down from his bed and opened his curtains so you can have a full view of the sky while you enjoy your comfort in his bed. You sat up and waited for him to join you again and stay warm together. Slowly, you see how the sky became pitch black to deep blue to light blue until you can see the pretty view outside his house. It was calming. He was holding your hand the whole time.

After watching the sunrise with him he fell asleep while holding your hand and you think he’s cute for having a tight grip even though he’s sleeping. While he was sleeping, it’s now your turn to admire his handsome features and watch him sleep before you start your day and make breakfast.

You hate to admit it but it looks like he has completely won you over.

“You look good in my dress shirt” he greets you good morning and kissed you on your temple while you set the table. You feel his hands in your hips, slowly coming down to your butt, and realized that you’re only wearing his dress shirt and thin panties. He still can’t believe that this is all happening, “are you real?” He whispers.

“Yes. Now come on, I have a meeting with the parliament. Need to go home and get ready” you eat some fruits as you scan your schedule for the day and there you see it and completely missed it.

Lucas went home last night. And you left your personal phone in your car. Fuck you said to yourself but didn’t show it to Hendery.

Leaving this morning became harder than you expected and you spent a total of 20 minutes kissing and flirting with Hendery before you finally open the door.

You went on with your day and made an excuse to Lucas as to why you didn’t pick him up at the airport last night. You were at your office with stacks and stacks of paper works and you weren’t even acting stressed when he came in because you were indeed stressed with everything.

“Oh baby, I’m really sorry” you greet him with a kiss and left everything on your desk. Lucas saw how stressed you are so he understood immediately and didn’t even bother asking. “You’re coming home to me tonight right? I missed you” he added and pouted like the big baby that he is.

“Uh-huh. Of course yes, I’m all yours” you smiled and he hugged you so tight before he leaves you to work again.

“Of course. You’re always mine” he said and kissed you goodbye.

The nights are cold for Hendery when Lucas got back because he can’t get a hold of you. No text, no call, no email. No nothing. And once again, he was heartbroken and he felt like he’s losing you again.

When he visited your sister a week since the last time he saw you, Hendery saw you with Lucas and didn’t even think of taking another glance. He had all these emotions ball up in his chest and he needed to release them.

“Hey, I didn’t know you were visiting today” your sister was surprised and invited him into her room. When she turned your back at him, he saw your figure in your sister. He’s back to imagining girls to be you, he’s back to that sick habit of his. But he can't help it. Effortlessly, he flirted with your sister, and surprisingly your sister was horny. Very horny for Hendery. One thing led to another and the next thing he knows he’s fucking her hard from behind kissing her shoulders and imagining that it’s you.

“What’s that noise” you murmur to Lucas while you were having a nap with him. Lucas giggled and whispered back, “I think Prince Hendery paid her a visit and... you know...” he was giggling and keeping you close to him as he went back to his nap, completely clueless that you’re hurting.

Everything that you and Hendery built from the past few days falls down when you came to his house and had your first fight.

ACT 4

“You didn’t call! Or texted that he’s already back you just left me hanging!”

“And that’s a good reason to fuck my sister?”

“It just happened!”

“Bullshit!” You shouted back. Louder than before, completely overpowering his shouts. With all his bravery, he got you a glass of water, came closer to you, and caressed your shoulders to keep you calm.

“I fucked up and I’m sorry, please,” he says sincerely.

Then you realized something.

“You don’t have to say sorry to me. It’s okay if you and my sister fucked because someday you will be married to each other. Were the ones cheating”

He listened to every word you said and begged you to take it back because he’s losing you again. When you finally said, “let’s end this Hendery. Do you want to have more fights like this in the future? What will you feel if I tell you that me and Lucas fucked last night-“

It was like thunder, disturbing the silence of his quiet house when he grabbed the glass of water and threw it in one corner.

“Exactly my point. We don’t belong to each other anymore. I’m sorry”

“Y/n. Please-“ he begged once again but you just repeated everything you said and left him.

The end.

It was the end of your story with Hendery.

But just as you thought that you’re done handling one heartbreak for the day, you’re wrong. Lucas called to tell you the news that your grandfather had a heart attack and was rushed to the hospital.

After everything that happened on that day, you never made peace with Hendery and never talked to him again. Lucas saw you at your lowest and took care of you every day after the funeral and never left your side.

Months passed by quickly and Hendery is staying in your palace as per your sister’s request and continue to ignore each other for safety. Sometimes you greet each other for formality but never as friends and as past lovers. Lucas is not stupid to not see what’s happening.

Two months before your coronation day, you were sitting on your throne with your leg up and pouting as you’re thinking if you’re really ready to be a queen. You see Lucas enter the hall but you did not move an inch. He sat on the cold floor in front of you, reaching for your hand and kiss it.

“I miss him, I wish he could see me as a queen” tears started to fall but Lucas is quick to dry them.

“He saw you as a queen already even when you were only a little girl” you understand what he said and you’re thankful for him for not leaving you at your lowest and choosing to be with you even though he found out about you and Hendery. “So... I wanted to do this, while you’re still you. And not...the queen” he says awkwardly and pulls out a small red velvet box.

But you sit properly and stopped him from opening it and saying the question that will change your life, “how can you stay to a woman who cheats?”

“Your grandfather told me love is patient. I had a meaningful talk with him, you’re right he’s wise. He told me you love me and he said if one day you do something stupid and wrong, which turns out you did... He told me ‘check your heart if you still love her, and if you still do marry her and don’t ever let her go again’"

Tears started to fall from your eyes again. “So will you marry me Y/n. Let me be the one to dry your tears forever?” He let out an awkward laugh, nervous about the next thing that will come out of your mouth.

“Yes, of course, yes” you cup his face, and this time you’re the one to dry his tears away.

Little did you know that Hendery heard everything. And he is beyond heartbroken.

[albdodaze]

blooming. y.itadori

‘she’s satoru’s sister’ (chapter two)

warnings: none

context: IN WHICH kami gojo, younger sister of certain powerful jujutsu sorcerer, meets an idiot who makes cold barrier around her heart melt.

There weren't many things that Kami hated. She probably poured all her hatred onto her parents, whom she felt incredibly sorry for. But there was another thing that Kami hated practically as much as her parents.

"She’s Satoru's sister. From Gojo Family."

Oh, how she hated being seen only as the sister of a famous jujutsu sorcerer and a member of a powerful family.

Kami wasn't powerful, in fact, she had no cursed energy, she couldn't do any cursed technique. The only thing she had in common with her family was that she could see curses, nothing more. She was often referred to as the window of the Gojo family. No one ever wanted to meet her, no one wanted to know anything about her, and when someone actually started talking to her, it was only to find out about Satoru.

Because of this, she was also the scapegoat in the family. Her parents were ashamed of her. In fact, they abhorred her. They couldn't stand the thought that their daughter was nothing compared to her family. Compared to her brother. Therefore, she was excluded from practically everything that went on in her family. Meetings, celebrations, birthdays, nothing. She was always left alone at home, under the care of the babysitter her parents had hired.

When she was younger, she thought it was just the way it was supposed to be, that it was like that in every family. After all, they never hit her, so what was wrong with that? Sometimes they yelled at her, screamed about not being good enough, but they never hit her. So nothing bad happened, right? Right?

The only thing she had in common with her family was her white hair and her rather tall height. And everything else was different. Even her eyes were black. Black. When her family had them blue, heavenly.

As she grew up, she began to understand how different she was from her family. She saw how disappointed they were in her for not being like them. So she began to practice and learn as much as she could. By the age of twelve, she already knew all about cursed weapons, she knew how to use them, how to defend herself. But her parents continued to look down on her. They continued to look at her with the same eyes. With pity and disgust.

The only person who didn't seem to look down on her was her brother. Satoru. And still, Kami hated him with all her heart.

She hated being inferior to him. She hated being compared to him. She hated being in his shadow. She hated all of him.

And yet she continued to stay with him. She stayed with him because of that stupid bond, the fear that no one else would accept her, that no one else would love her. Because no matter how angry, pissed off Kami could be at him, no matter how much she could call him names and tell him how much she hated him, he always stayed by her side and never doubted her.

After all, he was her big brother, how could he doubt in his loving little sister, for whom he would give his life, for whom he would do anything.

Satoru loved—duh—loves Kami with all his heart and considers her the smartest, strongest, and most beautiful woman—not girl, woman—he could ever meet. Satoru is the proudest brother, and he couldn't be prouder of how well his little sister, who holds his whole heart, is doing.

Even though she was over a decade younger than him, Kami was able to talk some sense into him more than once, show him how wrong he was about many things. Kami had taught him everything. It was for her that he tried his best. It was for her that he stayed in his family home as long as possible. It was for her that he befriended Megumi, seeing how well the two of them would get along and not being able to pass up the opportunity to find—probably—a lifelong friend for his sister.

And he found one.

Satoru was able to stay with Kami through the nights while she learned all about jujutsu sorcerers, he would bring her tea whenever she ran out of it, he would make her food when he heard her stomach clamoring for a snack. He would be the one to move her helpless body from her desk chair or the floor to her soft and comfortable bed so her back and neck wouldn't hurt the next morning.

He was the one who brought her breakfast every morning, for which he got up two hours earlier before her alarm clock. And when he was out, he would always send her a simple "have a nice day, don't forget to drink water" in the morning with some stupid meme or gif he found on the internet. It was the only thing Kami always woke up at 6:30am for, a silly and simple text message from her brother.

Let's also not forget the "good night, I love you little sister, sleep well" in the evening. Kami would never admit it, but she has screenshots of every single such message, printed out and tucked away in one of her binders, in case her phone breaks or gets lost.

In the end, Kami snapped. After all, how could she hate her brother, who would do anything to make her the happiest person in the world, who would do anything so that only his sister could have the best life, the one she deserved.

A soft knock on the door of her room snapped her out of her thoughts. She knew very well who it was. After all, he had said himself that as soon as he showed Yuuji around, he would come.

"You alive?" Her brother's familiar voice asked and Kami lifted her head from her pillow, smiling softly.

"How do you feel?"

"Like pulled straight from the grave," she muttered, and Satoru laughed, sitting down on the edge of her bed where she lay. "Itadori's been in his room since yesterday?" She asked, and her brother nodded. "Megumi?"

"He and Yuuji are already on their way to Harajuku where we're supposed to meet the fourth student," he replied, and Kami raised an eyebrow.

"Why didn't you go with them?"

"I was waiting for you," he smiled softly and started to speak before Kami had a chance. "And don't tell me you're not going. The fourth student is a girl, maybe you'll get along. Besides, you need to get out of this room eventually. And I don't mean leaving the room to move to Megumi's room or mine," he said as he noticed his sister opening her mouth to start defending herself. "Come on, I'll buy you a bubble tea on the way, okay?"

Kami glared at him for a good few seconds and finally sighed, which caused a big grin to spread across Satoru's face, which Kami smiled at, too.

With the help of her brother, the white-haired girl got out of bed and put on her feet, covered in black knee-high socks, mary-jane boots—the same colour as her socks—from her school uniform.

She quickly looked at herself in the mirror again, checking if her pleated mid-thigh skirt hadn't rolled up and if her short button down jacket, covering her perfectly white turtleneck, hadn't twisted anywhere. Adjusting her hood pinned to her jacket, she walked out the door that Satoru had opened for her, having previously put her phone in her pocket.

Just as Satoru had promised, they quickly bought her favorite strawberry bubble tea on the way and immediately headed towards the street they were supposed to meet at. As soon as they saw two familiar faces in the distance, Satoru raised his hand.

"Sorry for the wait!" He shouted and headed with Kami towards the two teenagers. "Your uniform made it in time, I see," he added when he saw a perfectly fitting uniform for Yuuji.

"Yeah, it's a perfect fit. Though it's slightly different from Fushiguro's. It has a hood, for one," Yuuji said, taking the red hood his uniform had in his hand.

"That's because the uniforms can be customised upon request," Satoru replied.

"Huh? But I never put in any requests."

"I was the one who put in the custom order. With a little help of our master," Satoru smiled, pointing at his sister, who was shorter than him and too focused on her bubble tea to get anything out of the conversation.

"Whatever, I guess," Yuuji replied.

"Be careful. Gojo-sensei has a tendency to do things like that," Megumi interjected, looking at his classmate out of the corner of her eye. "Most importantly, why are we meeting up in Harajuku?"

"Because it's what she asked for," said Satoru.

"Ahh! Popcorn! I want some!"

After a few minutes, Satoru poked his sister with his elbow and, as she raised her eyes at him, he pointed to something by the entrance to the street, or rather, someone.

There stood a redheaded girl, not too tall, tiring of some middle-aged man, but Kami couldn't hear what was going on through the crowd of people making noise around her. The short-haired girl had a very similar uniform to Kami, though this one had brown moccasins, black tights and a white shirt instead of black mary-jane shoes, knee socks and turtleneck.

"This is kinda embarrassing," Yuuji spoke up with his 2018 glasses on his nose and popcorn in one hand, in the other ice cream. Kami shook her head and closed her eyes, going back to drinking her bubble tea.

"So are you," Megumi heard and she snorted softly making the drink she was drinking fly up her nose.

As Kami tried to get rid of the sticky drink from her nose, the redhead approached them and began leading them to 400 Yen Corner where she could leave her luggage.

As the other freshman girl closed the locker with her things, she turned towards the rest of them and put her hand on her hip.

"Ok, once again," Satoru began and pointed his hand at the girl.

"Kugisaki Nobara. Be happy, boys. I'm the one woman in your group," she said, as if she hadn't noticed Kami standing next to her brother at all.

"And what am I? Guide dog?" Kami said, pulling away from her already almost finished drink. Nobara looked at the girl and her eyes lit up.

"Oh, hey! I didn't notice you. We will be great friends!" she said and returned her gaze to the two boys in her year.

"I'm Itadori Yuuji. I'm from Sendai!"

"Fushiguro Megumi."

"Kami Gojo. Guide dog."

After a few seconds in which Nobara looked like she was thinking hard about something, she finally sighed.

"I always get stuck with unfortunate circumstances," she said and sighed once more.

"She took one look and sighed," muttered Itadori.

"Are we going somewhere from here?" Megumi asked, turning his gaze to Satoru, who only laughed.

"We do have all four of you together. Not to mention, two of you are from the countryside," said Satoru, lifting his head proudly and throwing his arm around his sister's shoulders. "So of course we're going on a tour of Tokyo!"

Nobara and Itadori began shouting "Tokyo!", attaching themselves to Satoru, causing Kami to have to walk over to Megumi, throwing away an empty cup on the way.

"We're definitely not going on any tour," Kami muttered, and Fushiguro-kun nodded softly, knowing Gojo-sensei all too well.

"We love Tokyo!"

"TDL! I want to go to TDL!"

"Idiot! TDL's in Chiba! Let's go to Chinatown, Sensei!"

"Chinatown's in Yokohama!"

"Yokohama's part of Tokyo! Don't you know that? Look at a map!"

Kami, Satoru and Megumi were quietly watching the argument that was going on in front of them when the elder Gojo spoke up.

"I will now announce our destination!"

Nobara and Itadori knelt before Satoru at which Kami shook her head with her eyes closed and Megumi deadpanned at them.

"Roppongi!"

"Roppongi?!" Said Itadori and Nobara at the same time, looking at each other, incredibly pleased with what they heard.

[imnotcallingyouawriter]

Affluenza - lee donghyuck

Pairing: Rich!Haechan x Reader 

Genre: Rich!au, Angst, Fluff, Friends to lovers!au, College!au

Length: 4.8K

Warnings: Slight drug use, Alcohol use, Swearing

Summary:

a/n: First fic!! please tell me what you think. I’m basing this off of the song ‘Affluenza’ by Conan Gray, absolutely great song you should listen to it.

♪⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓♪

Ain’t it funny, honey

When you get what you need 

Baby, life is a breeze

Instead of having the tranquil morning that you had expected to have, you are currently having your earbuds pulled out by your old friend Donghyuck. Today you decided to walk to school instead of taking the bus, planning ahead to grab an iced coffee and get to class as early as you could. Unfortunately, Donghyuck found you after you bought your coffee and decided it was a good idea to jump on you. Now your coffee is on the sidewalk, one of your earbuds is in Donghyuck’s hand and he is smiling wildly at you. 

“What the hell Donghyuck?!” You yell at him while you snatch your earbud away from him. You look down at your now spilled iced vanilla latte on the concrete, sadness overcoming your body as you slump your shoulders so Donghyuck can realize what he’s done. 

“Ah shit I'm sorry! I didn’t see it in your hands. I’ll buy you a new one right now I promise.” 

“Don’t Donghyuck, I’ll be fine. What do you want anyway?” You begin walking again while the apologetic boy continues to follow you through the school's parking lot. Donghyuck knew what your answer was going to be even before you responded, that’s what you would always say when he tries to pay for something. 

In your four years of being his best friend, you had never agreed for him to pay for anything. And Donghyuck knows why, feeling as if you would be relying on somebody else when you don’t need to. But he wished that sometimes you would break and he could at least pay for your coffee. He feels as if you had been his rock for the past four years and you get nothing in return, but that was not the case in your eyes. Although there are some cons of being Donghyuck’s friend, it’s nothing that will make you leave him. There will always be people trying to use you to get to Donghyuck because of his reputation around the school, but it never mattered to you. Something that he was incredibly thankful for.

Donghyuck is friends with the wealthier kids of the school, all coming from their parents very successful jobs are businesses. Most of them you don’t associate yourself with, especially since they see themselves as untouchable. But there were a couple you got along well with, those two being Zhong Chenle and Na Jaemin, even though they have very heavy pockets they never let it go to their heads. Which is exactly why you are still friends with Donghyuck. He knows that the money everyone wants from him is mainly his parents' money. 

“Well, I'm having a party tonight at my house, I was wondering if you wanted to come?” He gazes at you with hopeful eyes, again already knowing your answer to his question but hoping you would finally change your mind. You look at him with an obvious expression, Donghyuck confirming his suspicions immediately.

“Donghyuck you know I’m not gonna come, as much as I love you I don’t love your friends.” you loop your arm through his and chuckle softly as the two of you walk through the school doors. It was a well-known fact that you weren’t too fond of his friends. Other than Chenle and Jaemin, Donghyuck’s friend group made sure to exclude and pick you out of the group. And as much as he hates the way his so-called friends treat you, he can’t get rid of them. All the people he surrounds himself around are the children of his parents' friends, forcing him to be around them to please his parents. 

“But Chenle and Jaemin are gonna be there! Please just this once, I’ll stop asking to pay for stuff if you come,” He tries to reason with you but your answer doesn’t change.

“As satisfying as that sounds, I’d rather spare my self-esteem for an extra day,” Donghyuck pouts at your answer, knowing that you meant what you said. The pair walk to a vending machine and you grab your money from your bag to buy a water bottle. 

“I wish I could ditch them, I really do, but you know how my parents are. I’ll save you some food if you decide to show up.” You nod, not really paying attention to the boy beside you, he says this every time you deny his pleas to come to a party. 

“I know Hyuck, do I need to remind you I don’t care? As long as we’re still friends, they can pick me apart as much as they want. Also, you don’t need to walk me to the bus stop today, I’m getting food with Jisung after school.” Donghyuck’s chest tightened at the mention of the younger boy's name. Jisung is one of your only other friends at your school. You two stuck together when he asked you for help to his class, building a younger brother older sister relationship overtime. Although Donghyuck knew that fact of yours and Jisung’s relationship, he couldn’t help but feel jealous of him.

Something that you didn’t know was that Donghyuck had a massive crush on you for the past two years. After finally finding someone that didn’t want to be his friend because of his parents' money, he fell for your carefree personality and your dependability. Donghyuck always came to you when he had a problem, mainly for his parents’ relationship. In the public eye they were the picture perfect family, but behind closed doors the love between his parents does not exist anymore. His parents became so in love with money that they fell out of love with each other, finding comfort in other people instead. Because of this, Donghyuck never had the warm love of a parent around him throughout his life. Even though they both kept in touch with him after he moved out for college, it never fulfilled his desire for love. And that’s where you came into his life, giving him the warmth and love of a genuine friend when he needed it the most.

You two met at the end of freshman orientation, while everyone started circling around Donghyuck because of his family’s reputation. You made conversation with a couple others around you. You bid goodbye to the people you were talking to and began to walk out of the classroom. That was until Donghyuck ran into your back because he tripped on his shoe. You lunged forward and quickly stopped yourself before turning around to see who bumped into you. A boy with light brown hair looking at you with panic in his eyes, you chuckle at his expression and give him a small smile to reassure him. 

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to bump into you, I swear.” He apologizes frantically to the gorgeous girl in front of him. Donghyuck was trying to get away from the people that tried to crowd him with questions about his money, making up a dumb excuse to leave the room as soon as possible.

“It’s alright, you can make it up to me by trying not to bump into anyone else today.” You joke with the boy in front of you and turn around to leave the classroom. Donghyuck’s face is covered in a light blush, flustered with the girl's comment as he subconsciously follows her out.

“Uh, what’s your name?” And that’s how your friendship began. Donghyuck wasn’t sure if you wanted to talk to him after he ran into you, but the conversation flowed casually as the both of you walked down the hall.

“Donghyuck, are you still there? I’m at my class. You can go now.” you laugh at his hazy state while he shakes his head of the fond memory. He looks at you and opens his arms wide, waiting for his daily hug. You walk toward him and wrap your arms around his torso, Donghyuck’s arms engulf your frame while he puts his nose in your hair. He has become accustomed to the scent of your hair putting himself in a trance, coconuts and oranges became his favorite scent after he met you.

“Tell Jisung I said I’m better than him.” He feels your head nod in his chest before he lets you go so you can enter class. You wave goodbye and disappear into the room while Donghyuck sighs helplessly at himself. He walks away from your classroom, pulling his phone out of his pocket to look at his lock screen. It’s a picture of the two of you from your birthday a couple years back, Donghyuck holding your face by your chin while the both of you smile goofily. His heart stutters at just the sight of you two together, both in disappointment and in happiness, you being the only thing in the world he feels like he can’t have.

You threw a party but you kinda

Hate all your friends

So you’re crying in a drive-way

Killing time, getting high

Can’t wait ‘til it ends

You sit across from your younger friend, both having empty servings of cup ramen from the convenience store and dalgona coffees. Jisung is telling you about his day, currently nagging about his new workload as a new sophomore in college, wishing he was a freshman again. You nod along to his dialogue while you swirl your coffee with your straw, not focusing on what he’s really saying.

“I can tell you’re not listening, a cookie for your thoughts?” Jisung asks while he slides you a couple extra bucks for the mentioned cookie. You slide his money back towards him, declining his offer but being grateful as well.

“I don’t know, Donghyuck always asks me to show up to his parties and I always say no but I think I'm starting to feel bad, you know?” You take a sip of your coffee before continuing, glad that you could get another one after this morning’s accident. “I feel like I’m not being a good enough friend to him. But he knows how badly I get along with the people he hangs out with, there’s just this weird feeling in my chest whenever he brings them and his parents up.” You finish your rant to Jisung while he takes in the rest of it. 

“In my opinion, I think it’s because you know that they’re bad for him and he knows too.” You agree with him with an affirmative hum, getting ready to leave the little coffee shop you were at. You two throw away your trash and exit the shop, the chilly breeze of fall finally getting to you.

“I just really don’t want him to get hurt Ji, I care for him way too much to lose him to a bunch of pretentious pricks.” You gently kick a rock in front of you while you two approach the bus stop. Jisung furrows his eyebrows in confusion, wondering if he should say what’s on his mind.

“I don’t know if it’s just me, but it kinda sounds like you have feelings for Donghyuck. And I get that you are very protective over your friends and that you care a lot about us. Although, if you do like him that way you should give it a shot, I’m pretty sure he likes you too.”  Jisung waves goodbye as he boards his bus to go home while you sit on his words a little longer. You will not shut down the idea of having feelings for your best friend, Donghyuck is a very attractive person. With his constant willingness to help you and his naturally funny personality, have you weak in the knees every once in a while. Getting up from your spot on the freezing cold metal of the bus stop, you start to walk in the direction of Donghyuck’s house. Remembering to pay Jisung back for being a good friend and for you to become a better one to him.

Only a streetlight away from your best friend's house, you notice a figure sitting on the driveway of the very loud house behind them. Once you’re closer to his house, you see that the figure in the driveway is actually Donghyuck himself, a beer on the right side of him and a poorly wrapped joint in his left hand.

“Hey, what’s the host doing sitting alone at his own party?” You ask in a soft voice, seeing that his eyes were cloudy and puffy, seemingly from him crying. He looks up to see you, smiling softly at him while you sit next to him, taking his beer and having a sip from it. 

“Chenle and Jaemin ended up not showing up. School got in the way so they couldn’t come. I hate everyone else in the house, so I decided to be by myself.” He looks to the side to look at his crush, fingertips a little red and smoke coming out of your mouth from the cold. You turn to lock eyes with him and smile warmly at him, your hands coming up to grab the joint from his hand to throw away later.

“When did you start smoking, Hyuck? This isn’t like you.” You frown slightly at the choice he was deciding to make when he shook his head.

“I don’t, someone gave it to me before I left. I’m glad you showed up, I could need an actual friend right about now.” He chuckles at his sadness, hands coming up to cover his face. “My mom found someone she loved more than money finally, it’s not my dad though. They’re filing for a divorce now, and I seem to be the only one that’s actually upset by this. Sometimes I feel like they only stayed married because of me, and they’re finally getting their wish now that I’m out of their way.” Donghyuck finishes his rant with a big swig of his beer, setting it in between the two of you as he feels his eyes beginning to water. You notice that his hands shook slightly from the upsetting news and the chilling air of the night. 

“Hey, they didn’t stay together because of you Hyuck, okay? They stayed together because they knew they would make more money that way. You aren’t at fault, you just so happened to be caught up in their mess, you get that?” You grab his hands and lay your head on his shoulder for comfort. He nods his head slowly, a tear quickly falling down his red cheeks. You look back up at him to wipe his tears away, holding his face in your hands. “You aren’t at fault here Hyuck, I really want you to understand that. You are so much more than them, you are an incredible person. Although you are a little bitch sometimes, you’ll always be my best friend.” Donghyuck laughs at your backhanded compliment and leans his forehead against yours. Your face flushes at his action but you don’t reject it, you guys have been close for so long that his random affection doesn’t really affect you.

At this moment in time, Donghyuck knew that he didn’t just like you, he loved you. He wanted to tell you he loved you to the moon and back, that if you asked him to run across the world to prove his love, he would take off. But he knew that the moment didn’t feel right, confessing his love right after he told you about his family’s failing relationship. Before he could lift his head up the front door opens, revealing Sooyoung -Although she adamantly wants people to call her Joy- and Sehun. Sooyoung and Sehun are the two most expensive people in the school, or at least that’s what everyone says, and are also the two that like to annoy you the most. The pair saw you guys sitting together in the driveway, heads and hands together, and started their chaos.

“Oh, look who it is, Haechan’s little fuck buddy decided to pay us a visit.” Sooyoung sneers while she approaches you two. Sehun walks towards Donghyuck, throwing his half used joint dangerously close to your friend's jeans. Donghyuck pulls the both of you up and away from Sooyoung and Sehun, the pair laughing at his protectiveness.

“What do you guys want, just go back inside, I’ll be back soon.”  Donghyuck mutters towards his guests. As much as he wants to tell them off for the comment Sooyoung made towards you, he kept his mouth shut, knowing his response would go back to his parents. 

“You don’t need to hangout with her anymore Haechan, there are better girls in your house. You know, the girls that your parents actually approve of, I wonder how they would feel if someone told them you were dating a girl like her.” Sooyoung looks you up and down in disgust and you scoff. You walk up to her in frustration, meeting each other's eyes in a rage.

“And what the hell is a girl like me, Sooyoung?” She flares her nostrils from you, saying her actual name, and she straightens up her posture to seem like the bigger person. 

“A little whore who won’t accept that she’s poor, so instead she insists that she’s fine to people that are better than her. I mean, why would you even keep Haechan around? Just to tell yourself that you don’t need him? Admit it, darling, you’re struggling.” Your eyes water and your hands shake from the mortification of her bold -and incorrect- statement. Donghyuck comes up to pull you away, but you push his arms away from you.

“Oh yeah?,  I would rather be ‘struggling’ like you think I am than living my life for other fucking people. Everything you have and do is for your damn parent’s, at least mine actually fucking care for me.” As soon as you finish your sentence, a swift slap goes across your face. Donghyuck immediately comes up to you, checking your face for any marks. You apologize to him for the things you’ve said, assuming that saying that essentially his parents don’t care for him hurt him in some way. “I have to go Hyuck, I’m sorry.” You pull his hands off of your face and begin to walk to the bus stop, leaving Donghyuck alone with the obviously pissed off girl and her stoned confused friend. 

“You’re just gonna let her talk to us like that? She insulted our families Haechan-”

“Stop calling me that, Sooyoung. My name is Donghyuck, Lee Donghyuck, and my family does not control me anymore, I do. The party’s fucking over, leave my fucking house you self-centered pricks.”  Donghyuck wipes his pants of the imaginary dust and gives the pair a farewell middle finger before taking off to the bus stop. 

Crystal liquor cups and designer drugs, oh, oh

They say, "Money can't buy you no love"

But a diamond cheers you right up

Hearing the fast footsteps of your best friend coming up to you at the poorly lit bus stop startled you, especially at such a late hour. You were waiting for Jisung to pick you up with his parents' car, him still living with his parents came with a perk, as he would say. And Jisung is kind enough to use his ‘you only get to use my car once a month’ privilege on you instead of getting late night beef flavored ramen at the 24-hour convenience store. You look up at the panting boy, him folding forward to catch his breath before catching your gaze.

“Why did you leave? You know that they were just being pricks.” Donghyuck comes to sit next to you, slightly flinching at the cold metal before settling close next to you. You look at him with sadness in your eyes, he notices this and grabs your hands as a sign to show that he’s listening.

“It doesn’t matter if I was right or not Donghyuck, I still said something that wasn’t true. I was just caught up in the moment and said stupid shit I didn’t mean. Me saying what I said meant that it applied to you too.” you look down at your shoes and softly take your hands out of Donghyuck’s numb ones. He sighs out of frustration, attempts to psych himself up and tilts your head towards his, both hands on each side of your face. You feel yourself begin to heat up in the face, hoping he didn’t notice by your face already being slightly red.

“I don’t care how people see my family anymore, okay? You were right anyway, my parents never really cared like they should’ve. But that’s alright now, because you’re with me and you’ve made me a better person than they will ever be. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Donghyuck gives you a small smile and you smile back at him. Looking at him like this, you notice something. His eyes have this beautiful sparkle to them. The sparkle you always see when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about, or a new prank he’s planning on Jisung. It’s one of your favorite things about him, when you get to see his true self come out when it’s just the two of you. That raw, child like attitude Donghyuck has always had, and you get to see it every day.

It makes you rethink your friendship, was it really just a friendship? Or have these past three years been a buildup to some huge spark of romance? Regardless of what it was, you felt that this park of romance was about to happen, and so did Donghyuck. His eyes flickered between your lips and your eyes, getting distracted by the extra light shining by your mouth.

“Donghyuck, I think I like you.” Those words confirmed the hope he has had for the entire time he’s known you. His smile grows even wider than you’ve seen before, him leaning closer to you and placing his forehead on yours just like at his house.

“I like you too, dummy. C-can I kiss you?” Donghyuck stutters and looks you in the eyes, that stunning sparkle coming back. You place your hands around his neck and whisper a small yes. The kiss wasn’t magical like in the trashy rom coms you and Donghyuck watched every Sunday night at your place, but it felt real. His cold and slightly dry lips from the air nipping at them throughout the night, and yours weren’t an exception either. They molded perfectly, like they were made for each other. The kiss would have probably escalated further, if it weren’t for Jisung and his trusty sidekick-the horn. You two jump apart at the sound of his car horn and turn around to see a very large shit-eating grin from the younger boy.

“As much as I love seeing you two being all lovey-dovey with each other, I didn’t get gas before I came, so unless you want to us to get stuck in the middle of the night I suggest you say your goodbyes right now.” You chuckle as he quickly sneaks a glance at the gas , if his parents find out that he was driving practically on ‘E’, they would revoke his car privileges. You let go of each other and begin to walk to Jisung’s car. You turn to Donghyuck quickly, running back to give him a small kiss on his cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning, maybe we can watch a movie tomorrow instead of Sunday.” and with that you open up the passenger’s side and get in, waving a goodbye to him before Jisung took off. Donghyuck stands there, smiling like a madman with a hand touching his cheek.

Give me none of your affluenza

The next day Donghyuck felt generous, so he decided to be the bigger person and let Jisung hang out with you and him. You had told him that morning when you met up that you felt bad that Jisung catered to you and you feel as if you were taking advantage of him. And knowing you, he knew you weren’t going to stop talking about it. Being the good soon-to-be boyfriend that he is, Donghyuck took you and Jisung out to eat for lunch. Jisung is eating to his heart’s content, babbling pure nonsense to your amusement, while Donghyuck looks at you like you were the sun itself. After indulging in Jisungs’ food happiness, you turn to the boy next to you to see him still gazing at you.

“What’s up, Hyuck?” you give a slight grin while a light blush spreads across your face. He doesn’t break his eye contact with you to give you a quick peck on the lips. 

“My mood is up because of you”  You snort at the terrible pick-up line and turn away from him, taking a sip of your iced vanilla latte. Donghyuck scoffs at your reaction, looking towards Jisung to see him laughing too. For the first time in a while, Donghyuck feels as if he is around people that like him for him. He sees you interact with Jisung as if he’s your brother. Although you feel like you don’t do enough for him, Donghyuck notices how much you truly care for him. You always have Jisung in your mind, thinking about his well being and how you can help him get through college. You’ve never thought of someone differently because of irrelevant things in someone’s life that they can’t control. You never saw Jaemin or Chenle better than you because of their class, and you never Jisung as inferior because of his age. And as much as Donghyuck hates to admit it, he does appreciate Jisung’s presence when he’s with you, Jisung doesn’t like to hold back when he’s around. 

Donghyuck also appreciates how genuine you and your friends are, you don’t have many but that also makes sure that the ones you have are true friends. Donghyuck never feels alone when he’s with you and Jisung. When he would be with the group of pessimistic aspiring socialites, he constantly felt as if he was in a cold empty room. Even in his own home, when his parents would be around, he didn’t feel like he could be himself around them. While you’re in the middle of your rant to Jisung about your professor assigning an essay and group project -which you are happy to announce that you snagged Donghyuck before anyone even asked- he grabs your hand and laces his fingers with yours. You turn to him again, squeezing his hand with a confused look on your face.

“Are you craving attention, Hyuck? All you need to do is ask.” You tease him, but he just buries his head into your covered collarbone. He takes in the scent of your perfume, the warm honey taking over his senses. 

“I just want you to know that I appreciate you, thank you for sticking with me even when the people I was around treated you poorly.” Jisung stops his chopsticks before his spicy tteokbokki hit his lips, looking up at the two across from him. You lay your head atop of Donghyucks, closing your eyes in contentment. 

“And I appreciate you for not losing yourself in the process Hyuck, never change, okay?” He nods slightly and kisses your sweater clad collarbone. Jisung aw’s incredibly loud, turning heads in the quiet restaurant they were in and attempts to hug the two across the table. You make him sit down -because he almost knocked over your coffee- but appreciate the kind act from the large child. Donghyuck playfully scowls at Jisung at his somewhat failed hug. 

“Get away from my girlfriend, you man child.” he jokes and wraps his arm loosely around your waist and closes his eyes. He had already realized he called you his girlfriend, he just wanted to see how you would react. You let out a hearty laugh and send a quick finger heart to Jisung.

“Yeah man child get away from Donghyuck’s girlfriend.” Jisung lets out an exasperated gasp, clutching his heart with a disgusted look on his face. You feel Donghyuck smile in your sweater, but you don’t spot his cheeks becoming a flaming red. 

“I’ve done nothing but support you idiots, and this is what I get? I’m never picking you up when you need me again.” He crosses his arms as to solidify his claim, yet you brush him off anyway. 

“I won’t need to Ji, my boyfriend has his own car, I don’t remember you owning a car Jisung Park.” You retaliate and Donghyuck laughs at your friend’s painful scoff. Now, while Jisung continues to tell the two of you off, Donghyuck realized that he didn’t actually ask you out. But he pushes that thought to the back of his head to relish in the fact that he finally has you now. And he now feels as if he can finally live the life he truly wants to, starting with you becoming his girlfriend, and finding a fresh way to annoy Jisung Park.

[butgilinsky]

tension // rc

warning; language, underaged drinking, mentions of cheating, mentions of anti depressants but not rly depression, mentions of smut but nothing descriptive, hella angst

summary; you find out the real reason kiara doesn’t hang out with you and the kooks anymore. 

word count; 4.5k+

rafe x reader, platonic!kie x reader, and a sprinkle of rafe x kie

you had been friends with kiara for years. back in middle school, when kiara sat at a table by herself, you shocked your friends by placing your tray directly across from hers and asking her why she chose to sit by herself. 

you knew people that liked kiara, so you knew she wasn’t forced to outcast herself, but you quickly learned that she didn’t like the people at your school. she’d rather save turtles that caught in a plastic bag rather than talk about which swimsuit fit her body the best. 

she wasn’t like your other friends, and you liked that about her. you liked that she didn’t stray from her genuine personality to fit in, like most people on figure eight did. she was authentic and real, and she wasn’t going to jeopardize that for a surface level friendship. 

kiara used to blame her kook year on you. if you hadn’t befriended her in middle school than she wouldn’t have felt so lost when you moved onto high school and she was stuck to finish seventh and eighth grade. the age difference - only two years - never made a difference before, but after spending an entire year with you, her last two years in middle school were hard to swallow. 

the pogues didn’t go to the same school, and with you in high school, she had no choice but to turn to sarah. sarah had been a mutual friend between the two of you, and provided a sense of comfort and familiarity that kiara couldn’t find anywhere else. 

kiara was excited when she began high school. she could start hanging out with you again, coordinating her elective classes to spend more time around you. it was everything she had been looking forward to for the entirety of eighth grade. 

she looked up to you. a girl two years older than her that didn’t care when her friends ragged on her for spending so much time with a freshman. you took her under your wing and made sure nobody gave her shit in high school, and she’d never forget that. even when she spent the entire next year swearing off any and all kooks. 

you never understand the switch she had flipped, thinking she had gotten comfortable with her makeshift life on figure eight. you thought you proved to her that kooks weren’t all that bad. you showed her that for every time topper made a crude remark, kelce was there to interject with a light hearted response. you tried to make her comfortable there, treating her like the younger sister you never had. 

then she flipped on you. when her and sarah had a falling out, you were caught in the middle of it. you’d been dating rafe at the time, which made you biased in a way you wished you didn’t have to be. you couldn’t throw sarah in your rear view mirror like she didn’t mean anything. she was in the heart of your friend group, and despite what you wanted, you were around her too much to cut her out entirely. 

losing kiara hurt. you’d opened up to her about things that nobody else knew about you. you’d slept at her house when things with your parents got rocky. she was there when your brother moved for college, and offered a sense of comfort you couldn’t find in your other friends. 

she didn’t ask you to choose, she simply left without another word. she told you that she’d see you in school but that had to be the extent of it. if she was swearing off all kooks, that had to include you, no matter how much it hurt her to walk away from you. 

your last summer on the island was supposed to be the best one yet. sure, you’d be back for small breaks during the semester, and an entire month between fall and spring, but you were going all the way to south carolina in august. you were determined to have a good time. 

leaving rafe would be hard, seeing as he had just gotten back from his first, and last, year at college, but you were prepared to face the battles, no matter how tough. 

something about this summer felt off from the beginning. you didn’t know what it was, but you tried to shrug it off anytime it came up. you did your part in trying to keep your boyfriend and his goons out of trouble, though that proved easier said than done. 

it didn’t help when sarah dropped off the radar, beginning to sneak around and disappear for long periods of time. she had blown it off every time you asked, despite you promising her that she could trust you with every fiber of her being. you had been her honorary older sister for years, and you dating her older brother only heightened that. 

when she blew off your plans to go to the movie night, you made a mental note to dig into what exactly deemed more important than sneaking drinks during the movie neither of you cared about. 

“hey, kie.” your head turned to follow your boyfriend, eyebrows pulled together when he stepped up to the concessions stand to stand beside the girl you hadn’t spoken to in - you don’t even remember how long. 

you picked up on kiara’s annoyed expression quickly, sensing a small amount of discomfort in the way that she quickly ignored rafe. he didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care, but it captured your interest fairly quickly. 

topper tried to grab your attention, mentioning something about the bottle of burnett’s he scored from his plug earlier that day. you waved him off quickly, eyes firmly locked on the two that stood just a few yards away from you. 

“how are you?” kiara spared you a short glance before practically rolling her eyes, trying to mentally map out an escape plan, no doubt. 

“i’m fine.” rafe nodded, swinging his weight from the balls of his feet back onto his heels. 

“good, good. um, tell your boy that we know what he did.” kiara’s expression stood steady, despite the confusion clear in her eyes that you were sure rafe didn’t pick up on. 

“sorry, what boy are you talking about?” her eyes found yours again, but she could tell you were just as lost as she was, so she looked back at rafe quickly. 

“uh, he’ll know.” kiara rolled her eyes one final time, though the eye contact between the two last just long enough for your fists to clench at your sides before she turned and walked away. 

“bye.” you watched rafe watch kiara walk away from him, his hands shoved in his pockets and back turned towards you. 

there was something in the way that he watched her leave. the way his gaze lingered on her longer than normal. the way he chewed on the inside of his cheek when he spun around to face you. how his eyes were locked on his feet for a short second before he was offering you a bright smile as he returned to the same smiling rafe before he’d seen kiara. 

“what the fuck was that?” you didn’t notice topper pinching the bridge of his nose behind you, shaking his head at rafe’s lack of subtlety. you didn’t see the way that kelce was shaking his hand back and forth, telling rafe to completely deny whatever the hell just happened between him and kiara. 

sure, to anybody else watching it was just rafe and kiara talking. two people that supposedly didn’t like each other, despite their shared title of a kook. two people talking about something very vague and somehow secretive. 

but to you, it was your boyfriend talking to a girl he often didn’t associate with. it was rafe talking to your ex best friend who had left you high and dry after a fall out with your other friend, which you had no hand in. it was the girl who had deemed you guilty by association after sarah had turned her back on the girl. 

it was obvious there was tension between the two of them, but you had no idea why. 

“what was what?” rafe wrapped an arm around your neck, trying to pull you into his chest but you planted your hand flat on his chest to stop the collision. 

“that whole interaction, the tension, what the fuck was that about?” rafe rolled his eyes and moved to press a quick kiss to your forehead, something he knew calmed you down without fail.

“the only tension between kie and i is the same tension between her and the rest of figure eight. she hates me, ‘cause i’m a kook and i mess with her dirty pogue friends.” you wanted to push it further, wanted to say something else, but you couldn’t stop yourself from melting into the boy’s embrace when he pressed another, longer kiss to your forehead. 

“stop stressing, baby. let’s go sit down.” you nodded, accepting the kiss rafe moved to place on your lips. 

the next time you noticed something being off was midsummers. your mind had already been racing when you’d stood beside topper, eyes locked on sarah and john b less than a mile away. you were confused as to why she wasn’t being discrete about it, kissing him during one of the biggest events of the summer. 

your hand found topper’s arm, squeezing it gently before leaning into his side to provide a sense of comfort that he surely needed. you were confused, hurt for topper, and you knew it would inevitably become your job to get to the bottom of it all. 

you were upset that rafe wasn’t ravishing you in your dress, like you had originally planned. he had made a few comments in your ear as the night progressed, especially after the slit in your dress rode up while you crouched behind kelce to hide from your parents while you downed a glass of wine. 

his eyes had been glued to you almost all night long, and while you were drinking it all in and enjoying every minute of it, he’d disappeared at some point and you were now left to comfort a confused and hurt topper. 

when the commotion between jj and the head of security erupted in the middle of the crowd, your eyes found rafe. you knew he had something to do with it. you would’ve blown it off as a casual kook v. pogue rivalry interaction, but the way his eyes were trained on kiara when she began sticking up for jj made your blood boil. 

“you okay?” topper nudged you with his elbow, but you shook your head gently, eyes burning into your boyfriend’s back as he watched kiara run off, despite her parents’ protests. 

“do you know something i don’t, top?” his eyebrows pulled together in confusion, not catching on to what you were asking him. “what’s going on between rafe and kiara?” 

you knew you’d hit something when topper’s face fell. his lips parted as he tried to come up with something. a diversion, a distraction, an excuse, anything. you could tell he was digging through his brain for something to say to you. 

“topper, what the hell is going on?” he started stuttering, falling over his words as he shook his head slowly. 

“n-nothing. why would you- what makes you think that anything’s going on with them? kiara and rafe? pfft, that’s ridiculous, y/n.” your jaw clenched and you put a hand flat on his chest, pushing him back and away from the people stood around the two of you. 

“topper. spill. now.” your voice dropped to an octave you never used with topper. he’d seen you use it with rafe on multiple occasions, and the one time that kelce lied to you about the wine stain on your carpet. he knew it was a tone that you only used for specific situations, and he knew it meant he had no way out of this. 

“i-”

“what’s up with you two?” your head turned towards kelce, the bright smile he held once left his face at the sight of your tensed muscles and hand still pressed against topper’s chest. 

“what’s going on with rafe and kiara?” kelce looked panic, eyes looking over at topper who was shaking his head quickly to say he hadn’t told you anything he was supposed to. “kelce.” 

“okay, okay-”

“kelce, no!”

“top, we can’t hide it from her forever.”

“we can if you shut up!”

“she’s clearly catching on-”

“only because you’re giving her ammo!”

“shouldn’t we tell her the truth if she thinks it’s still happening-”

“still happening? how many times has it happened?” topper let out a heavy sigh, mentally cursing kelce for saying too much. kelce always had a soft spot for you, and that proved to be a weakness in more situations than not. “someone tell me what the fuck is going on, right now, or so help me god-”

“rafe and kiara slept together, okay? they slept together when you two were going through one of your spats.” your hand fell from topper’s chest, an uneasy feeling flowing through you as you tried to process the given information. 

“it happened once when you drilled into him too far and he kind of flew off the rails a bit. he swore it was a one time thing but then they fell into a bit of a routine. it only happened a few times, but-”

“when?” your eyes flicked between the two boys, who were sharing eye contact to decide who was the one who ha to break it to you. “i don’t care who says it, someone just fucking say it!”

“right before rafe graduated.” kelce rushed out, almost out of breath from how fast the words fell off of his tongue. 

you were still friends with kiara then. you’d been dating rafe for over a year at that point, and you were finding out about all of this over a year after it all happened. 

“how long?” topper sighed heavily, hating the position he was currently in. he was friends with both of you, but rafe was his boy. he’d been sworn to secrecy for over a year now and it would’ve been fine if you weren’t so observant, and kelce wasn’t so guilt ridden. 

“a few months, i don’t know. like three, maybe four.” 

you wished the ground would swallow you whole then. you knew it wouldn’t have come to light if you didn’t dig so far, but the damage had been done. you knew now, and there was no way around that. 

everybody had been lying to you. your boyfriend, who you loved more than anything. your ex best friend, who you still cared for immensely. the two boys who had stood up for you for years. the two boys who you cared for like they had been siblings born into the wrong family. 

your eyes stung, maybe from the tears that didn’t often come to you, maybe from the pressure of holding them back. you weren’t entirely sure which caused the burn in them, but it was uncomfortably present. your head started nodding, and your hands found the fabric of your dress, lifting it enough for you to bend your knees and slip off your shoes. 

“what are you doing?” kelce started moving before you could walk away, worried he had just ruined seemingly everything with a simple conversation. a conversation he should’ve steered clear of. 

“i’m going home, kelce.” you turned around, almost running right into the last person you wanted to see. 

“you’re going home?” he spoke gently, eyes locked on your shoes in your hand before looking back up and cupping your face in his hands. “hey, what’s wrong?” 

you grabbed his wrist gently, pulling his hand away from your face and setting it back at his side. he was confused, watching you summon every ounce of self control you possessed in order to stay calm in this moment. 

“i’m going home.” you said one more time, walking around rafe and towards your car, but you felt a hand on your elbow seconds later, only a few feet away from your previous spot. 

“baby what’s going on? at least let me drive you home-”

“why don’t you drive kiara home, rafe?” rafe rolled his eyes, letting out a low groan at the name that slipped from your lips. 

“we’re back on this kie bullshit? there’s nothing going on between kiara and i-”

“there was though, wasn’t there?” rafe paused, his movements stuttering as he stared at you with an unreadable expression. “c’mon, rafe. tell me nothing happened. tell me that you didn’t cheat on me with my best friend.” 

“who told you? was it kelce? son of a bitch. i knew his soft spot for you was going to bite me in the ass-”

“the only thing that bit you in the ass was your inability to keep your dick in your pants, rafe.” you ripped your arm out of his grasp then, eyes wide and filled to the brim with tears that you refused to let surpass your waterline. 

“baby, just listen to me-”

“no, you listen, rafe. i have never loved a person in my life the way that i love you. i have never done anything to hurt you and i would never think of doing something like what you did.

“i have never spent my time thinking about a person the way that i think about you. i never asked you for anything, never asked you to promise me a single thing. i never forced anything onto you, and you couldn’t do me the decency of just staying loyal to me. i would never disrespect you like that.” 

he knew you were right. he’d been at the boneyard when tourons approached you at a kegger. he’d seen you turn every single one down before they wasted their breath on asking. he’d seen you duck and dodge every person’s efforts in any situation, just before you came back to him with an amused smile and another story to tell. 

you kept him out of trouble that way. you were honest and transparent. you could’ve easily turned them down and pocketed the experience, but you told rafe every time. you didn’t know he saw almost every time, but you did it because you were loyal. you didn’t see anybody else the way you saw rafe. you’d do anything to assure him that he was the only one you had eyes for. 

and the icing on the cake was that kiara was involved. meaning that your entire junior year that was spent juggling time between your best friend and your boyfriend, they were spending their free time with each other, behind your back. you would’ve done anything for either of them. you still would. 

“y/n, i love you-”

“i wish i believed that, rafe. i really wish i did.” you shook your head gently, looking back at the other two that were watching with guilt building within them. “i’ve been loyal to the three of you to a fault. i’ve never kept anything from either of you, and-”

you shook your head, looking up at the sky to fight the oncoming rush of tears that continued to build. you refused to wipe them before the fell, but you also refused to let them fall. topper and kelce had never seen you cry, and rafe had only see it a few times. 

“i expected better, which may be my fault. i just- for fucks sake. topper i just watched your girlfriend cheat on you and comforted you for the last hour! how in the hell is that not enough motivation to say something to me about this?” you were screaming now, but there wasn’t anybody around to hear any of you. 

“y/n, i’m sorry-”

“just, forget it. i just want to go home-”

“baby-”

“we’re done, rafe.” his shoulders dropped, along with his jaw as he stared at you in disbelief. “it’s done. whatever this was to you,” you moved your hand between the two of you, gesturing to you as a couple. “whatever the last two years was is over, rafe. we’re over.”

your voice broke, pitching up in the middle of your words. rafe felt his airways constrict as a lump formed in his throat. he felt tears burn his eyes, much like yours had been for a few minutes at this point. he saw you slip through his fingers as you started taking steps back from him, not daring to show any sign of weakness as you squared your shoulders. 

“don’t fucking follow me, any of you.” you threatened lowly, spinning on your feet and walking off before any of them had time to process everything that had just happened. 

you tried to find your car, heavily disappointed and frustrated when you remembered you’d come with kelce. you were supposed to come on your own, given that rafe was being dragged along with his family. 

the frustration was enough to let the first tear slip out of the corner of your eye, falling down your cheek at an excruciating pace. once the first slipped, it was as if the floodgates had been knocked down. 

they came faster than you could wipe them away, which led you to leaving your cheeks a stained and wet mess on your walk home. 

you tried to think of all the times you’d blindly trusted the pair, never questioning their actions or motives a single time in the past. you never questioned people you trusted. it had been one of your faulty traits, being loyal to a fault. you blindly trusted people, but it had never come back to bite you this intensely. 

you rolled your eyes when you saw the pogue’s van on the same road you had been walking down for longer than you could remember. you were sure it’d pass until it didn’t, slowing to an excruciating pace on the road beside you. 

“y/n!” you sighed heavily, fully intending on ignoring the group of kids piled into the van beside you until kie stuck her head out of the passenger side window. 

“y/n, why are you out here all aone?” you turned then, facing the van that then came to a stop, kiara’s eyes locked on your tear stained cheeks. “holy shit, y/n, what happened?” 

kiara had only seen you cry once. it was the summer before you were going into high school, and you’d fallen off of your surf board. you were frustrated, having fallen more than succeeding that afternoon. the pent up frustration tipped you over the edge you’d been teetering on for months. 

you told kiara about the problems you’d been faced with, anxious about starting high school and seemingly losing all the friends you’d had your entire life. you didn’t know what to expect, and you were scared, but you never told anybody that. 

nobody expect kiara. 

“you were my best friend, you know?” you spoke gently, watching as kiara’s face twisted in confusion. “you were my best fucking friend and i trusted you with things i’d never tell anybody else. i told you about my parents almost getting a divorce, and how i almost had to move in with my brother all the way in maine. 

“i told you about almost being put on anti depressants, and confessed every secret i ever had to you. i told you everything. i trusted you with everything. never in a million years did i ever think you would’ve gone behind my back and fuck my boyfriend.” 

kiara’s face dropped, her eyes widened while a chorus of gasps erupted from inside of the van. she moved to step out of the van, pushing the door open after struggling to unlock it and stepping in front of you on the dark and empty road. 

“y/n, you have to listen to me-”

“no, i don’t. that’s why you stopped hanging around, isn’t it? that’s why you ran to the cut, because you went behind my back and slept with my boyfriend for months-”

“y/n, it wasn’t like that, i swear.” 

“then what was it, kiara?” you screamed, your shoulders falling further than they already had while you stared at her with defeat evident in your features. 

“i fell in love with him.” you scoffed, rolling your eyes while a sarcastic laugh dripped from your lips. 

“that’s amazing, kiara. i’m so happy for you. i’m so happy you found love in the one person on the entire island that held my heart in the palm of his hand.” she sighed heavily, anger bubbling inside of her. 

“it’s not my fault i fell in love with him, y/n!”

“did you love him the first time you fucked him? is that why you slept with him, or was it only after you’d snuck around behind my back for months that you started to fall for him?” you raised your eyebrows, your patience for this conversation wearing thin. 

when she didn’t respond, you nodded. you smiled softly, despite the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks as you stepped away from the van and kiara. 

“y/n, wait-”

“get back in the van and never fucking speak to me, ever again, kiara. i don’t want anything to do with you for the rest of my life.” 

kiara felt her heart shatter in her chest. watching you walk away with every ounce of the truth hurt more than the day she’d walked away, shielding you from this heartbreak. 

she knew it was wrong the first time she slept with rafe. she’d been vulnerable, and seeing rafe vulnerable somehow helped. she didn’t love rafe then, but it didn’t take long for her to fall into it with him. their time together had been brief, but it was something kiara would never forget. 

falling in love with her best friend’s boyfriend was never something she intended on doing. she told rafe it was wrong and that they could never be together again after the first night, but she had trouble following her own rules. she’d been heartbroken when rafe broke things off for good. he didn’t want to hurt you anymore than he already had, and kiara had to respect that. 

that had been the leading factor in kiara’s hatred for the kooks. she knew kelce and topper knew. she knew rafe would never tell you, and you’d get to live the perfect life by his side. she hated rafe for stealing her heart and crushing it in front of her eyes. she hated you for living the life she wanted more than she’d care to admit. 

she hated herself for hurting you, even if you didn’t know. she’d covered it up with the story of sarah’s party that night. though that wasn’t a lie, it was dull compared to her betrayal towards you. sarah was never her best friend, you were. you just, unfortunately, loved the same boy. 

you both were in love with rafe cameron, and he chose you. 

but none of that mattered to you as you walked home, tears in your eyes and on your cheeks. you had lost everything in one night, and you didn’t know how to process it. 

one thing you knew for sure is that you couldn’t wait to move off of this island. 

[imaginesforjohnnydepp]

Family Reunion (Johnny Depp x fem reader)

Summer 2009

You loved going to your mom’s house. Any chance you had, you took the first flight out to visit her, but there was something about taking your little family to visit your mom’s picturesque country home, seeing them run around with your nieces and nephews that hit different for you; you were able to be your most authentic self as you walked around your mom’s property, but this time it was doubly special since it was a family reunion with your brother and sister, their spouses and kids, and since Three was planning on applying to college in the area, your niece decided to show him around since she attended the same school as a freshman. You’d always look forward to those and you never missed one (if you could help it), even more as your star began to rise; your family kept you grounded and while they were proud of you, they never hesitated to remind you where you came from. You were helping your mom, your brother Todd and sister Joan in the kitchen when your kids came rushing in, almost knocking down your brother who was carrying a pan of food to the oven. “Woah, slow down, what are you running for?” you asked.

Noelle was on Camille’s back, her arms and legs clasped tight around her older sister’s neck and waist; Three rushed in with Nathan on his back the same way. “Daddy and Uncle Matt are getting the water slide out. Can we get out our bathing suits? Please?” your younger daughter questioned. “Okay, just put on another coat of sunscreen!” you yelled out to them as they ran down the hall to their rooms. “I can’t believe Three is graduating high school next year, and Camille is just starting. Seems like yesterday I was getting you guys ready for school,” your mom reminisced, sprinkling some into a pot on the stove. Your mom was absolutely inconsolable when you left for college as you boarded your plane, meanwhile your brother and sister kept fighting over who got your room while you were away.

College was when you discovered your love for acting, even though you originally signed up for the class for your crush who definitely did not return your feelings. When you told your family you wanted to pursue acting as a career, they were supportive but wanted you to finish school first, so you managed to graduate a year early by the time you got your first role, and here you are. “I know what you mean. Feels like yesterday Johnny was singing them to sleep. I wish I could put them in the dryer and shrink them back to regular size.” Your baby, the almost high school graduate.

“Has he considered taking up acting yet since his play?” Todd asked. Honestly, your two oldest have expressed interest in acting, and while you Johnny decided that if either of your kids wanted a career in the industry, then you’d support them. It was something that they had to be serious about and you wanted them to be absolutely sure, so you told them to wait until they were at least eighteen. Now Three is seventeen, and he seems more adamant about it, even taking drama as an elective for his junior and senior years of high school. He played Puck in his school’s production of Midsummer Night’s Dream, ironic since you played Titania in the movie ten years ago.

“It’s only gotten bigger since the play. He seems so serious about too, Camille as well.” You know Camille has casting alerts sent to her email, and she’s always begging you and Johnny to take her to LA for auditions. “Are you gonna let them do it?” inquired Joan. You began cutting up some vegetables and putting them in a pot and turned on the heat. “Johnny and I have been talking about it and that urge is getting stronger with them every day.”

You really just wanted your kids to stay kids for as long as possible because Hollywood forces kids to grow up too quickly and you did not want a Lindsay Lohan situation on your hands. Last week when you were in the shower, Camille barged in on you to show you a casting call for a Disney Channel show; you told her you’d think about it, but now you were actually considering it. “Come on, Y/N, let the kids do it. I’ve never seen them this passionate,” begged your mother. “Guys, the thing is, Three is named after Johnny, and people already hold him with such high regard, and I don’t want Three to have that added pressure of trying to live up to those expectations the industry have for Johnny. Same for Camille.” While Camille and Three wouldn’t be the first set of celebrity spawn to join the family business, you still had your qualms.

The media and the industry is brutal, they love you one minute and hate you the next, and your kids had a disadvantage. They didn’t grow up with the celebrity kid lifestyle. They were hardly photographed out in public, weren’t used to being picked apart online or having rumors spread about them (that you know of, middle school and high school is such a confusing time). They had never even been on a red carpet. After a while, it was time to eat once your brother-in-law and sister-in-law showed up with their kids, your nieces and nephews, and it really was a nice thing to see your family together minus your dad (but that’s a story for another time). As the sun set over your mom’s waterfront home, you leaned your head on Johnny’s shoulder, just thinking about how lucky you are to have such a close knit family.

[corvus--rex]

Semi-abandoned soulmate au. I actually started this one before The Sound of Color, although this is vastly different from that one. This particular au also doesn't have the requirement that soulmates are always romantic (ie Pidge and their soulmate). It jumps around a little, and those sections are marked with dividers. Soulmate strangers-to-lovers. . .

~*~*~*~

Soulmarks. Everyone had one. An indelible mark that bound two people together. Age 13 was when it would start. The mark “waking up” as some called it, and reaching out for its companion mark. Most soulmates were within a few years of each other, so the lingering tingle of a mark searching for its mate usually didn’t last long.

Lance was lucky that way. His mark sprang to life on his thirteenth birthday and quieted three months later. There was no way to know who or where his soulmate was at that point, but he knew they were three months younger than him. He had been getting ready for school that day when the constant tingle in his mark faded.

He’d always liked the quarter note-shaped mark on the inside of his left wrist. What confused him were the numbers that circled it. No two marks were the same, and Lance knew that his soulmate would have something different. But those numbers confused him. 1030211933. Trying to figure it out was a favorite pastime throughout middle and high school, but he never could get there. He hadn’t met his soulmate yet, but he hoped that it would make sense when he did.

Once two marks found each other, the secondary connection opened. The marks on the soul allowed for marks on the body. Words, doodles, full-blown artwork. Drawing or writing on skin would appear on a connected soulmate. Once Lance’s mark had connected, the first thing he did was ask his soulmate about the numbers. They didn’t know either. But he did find out that his soulmate’s mark sat on their right hip, it was a feather, and they didn’t have those numbers but they did have a series of roman numerals along the feather’s shaft that read:

X X X X X X I X I X X X X I I I

They continued to talk for years, learning about each other. They had decided not to share identifying information like names or location, but Lance knew that his soulmate had a twin and that their parents had adopted their cousin when their cousin’s parents died in an accident. They didn’t know anything about the accident because they’d been too young at the time and no one had explained it since. Lance told them that he had three siblings, that he was a twin, too, and that his older sister connected with her soulmate the same day he had.

He lay in his bed in the dorm he shared with his best friend Hunk, rereading the last message his soulmate had sent him about how college sucked and how they already had an in-class performance a month into the semester. He’d responded with a note about how trying to balance classes with rehearsals as the lead in his school’s fall musical was kicking his ass. Lance already knew that his soulmate was studying music at a college close to where they grew up. And they knew that he was majoring in theatre at a college a three-hour drive from home.

Hunk trudged into their dorm room and threw himself onto his bed. “Remind me again why I decided this was a good idea?” he groaned.

“Which part?” Lance asked in return.

“The part where I decided to be a pastry chef and subject myself to the hell that is the one professor I can’t get away from?”

“Because you love baking and always have and one asshole can’t make you hate doing what you love.”

“I swear she just likes to terrorize us. There’s that guy I told you about – Sal, the one I had a class with freshman year and he transferred to general culinary and now he’s back – she hates him. And I don’t know why. But then, she hates me, too. Pretty sure it’s that bun. It’s so tight she doesn’t need a face lift. But I’m also convinced that Chef Dayak is just evil.”

“Hey, at least you have Shay there with you. Not everyone gets to have their soulmate in class with them all day,” Lance pointed out.

“How’s it with yours?” Hunk asked.

“We’re working our way up to talking about meeting. I know I wanted to wait until after graduation, but I’m getting impatient, y’know? It’s been eight years and I don’t want to wait anymore. But I get that they do. So…yeah. Anyway,” he said, shaking himself out of that particular spiral, “You going to the Halloween party this year?”

“Dude! It’s a month away!”

Lance sat up, turning to his best friend, one eyebrow arched. “Seriously? You say this like there’s such a thing as too early. And no, it’s only three weeks. We need to start now.”

Hunk groaned again, this time in only partial exasperation, and sat up. “Fine. The fuck are you planning this year?”

Lance just laughed. Hunk threw a pillow at him, collapsing in his own fit of giggling when a startled Lance took the pillow directly to the face. Lance’s alarm sounded, loud and annoying. He groaned, throwing Hunk’s pillow back, and fumbled for his phone to turn the blaring sound off.

“Fuck me. I have to get to rehearsal.”

In an apartment just off campus, Keith stopped playing and pulled the pencil out of his hair, making yet another correction to his scribbled sheet music. He started over, again, ignoring the key in the door and his roommate coming back in. He ignored their slight form dropping their overpacked backpack on the floor and throwing themselves onto the other end of the couch with their laptop and notebook. Keith was too focused on his music to pay much attention to Pidge.

Except that Pidge wanted his attention right then. “Hey. Asshole,” they said, throwing a ball of notebook paper at him.

“Yes, hellspawn?” he asked casually, setting his guitar on its stand by the couch, “What the fuck do you want?”

“I’m on the committee for the party. You’re coming,” they said while typing away on their laptop.

“No. I’m not. I don’t go to parties, and you know it. Why the fuck are you so determined for me to go?”

Pidge looked up, fixing him with their stare. “Because I said so. And because Matt’s going to be there. His girlfriend’s going too. You actually like Neve. So you’re going.”

“Including you, that’s three people I’d be willing to talk to. Why should I bother?” he stopped, a dreaded thought sparking as to why they were so hellbent on his going to the party. “It’s because it’s a week after my birthday, isn’t it?”

“What? You mean that thing you ignore every year except for the proliferation of doodles from your soulmate? Why would that have anything to do with it?”

“I'm still not going,” Keith insisted.

“We’ll see about that,” Pidge answered cryptically. They went back to their laptop, typing furiously. They stayed that way, ignoring Keith’s death glare until he gave up and went back to his music.

Eventually, Keith decided that the music portion of his brain was fried and gave up for the night. Pidge was buried in their laptop, writing a paper for their robotics class at top speed. Ignoring them for the moment, Keith opened his own laptop, going back to the English assignment he still hadn’t finished. It was due by the next class, which was two days away, but he’d been putting it off for longer than that. He typed lazily at it for a while before a horrible thought hit him and he realized that his previous assessment had been wrong. He glared up at Pidge over his screen.

“She’s going, isn’t she?” he asked.

“Who?” Pidge asked back, pretending they didn’t know what he meant.

“You know who.”

“If you’re referring to your sister, then yes, she is.”

Keith sighed. “Just because she knows who her soulmate is now, that doesn’t mean that you’re right. Mine could be literally anyone.”

Pidge closed their laptop. “And you’re in denial. I can not believe that your twin sister happens to have a soulmate who has a younger brother who is also a twin and his soulmate has a twin. The odds of that happening are so small as to be inconceivable! Not to mention the part where Acxa’s soulmate and her brother both connected with theirs on the same day.”

“Ok, I’ll give you that it’s weird. But you don’t know anything about Acxa’s soulmate’s siblings, and neither does she. And not everyone’s met theirs yet. You haven’t! All you know is their handle on Steam!”

“So? I also know that Beezer’s on the other side of the country. I know that we won’t get to meet in person until after graduation. All I'm saying is that this is a little too weird to be a coincidence.”

“And I’m not going to let you harass my sister’s soulmate about her siblings on the day they’re meeting face to face for the first time. Leave it alone, Pidge.”

“Fine,” they said, going back to their paper.

Keith knew full well that Pidge would not leave it alone, but there was only so much he could do to stop them.

A few days later, Lance dragged his twin sister, Hunk, and Shay to the nearest Halloween pop-up costume store. None of them had found anything they liked, and Lance was getting bored. Shay had wandered off to the decoration part of the store, and Hunk was making sure the twins didn’t get into trouble. But Hunk had gotten briefly distracted and lost them.

“Jules no.” Ah, there was Lance.

“Jules yes.” And his sister.

“Are you two still arguing?” Hunk asked as he approached the twins.

“Hunk,” Lance said, putting his hands on Hunk’s shoulders, “She wants us to be the Wonder Twins again. I absolutely refuse. We did that once when we were like nine.” He felt something hit his back and whipped around to find his sister holding a Wonder Twins costume. “Ana Julieta Alameda-McClain, get that fucking thing away from me.”

“Oh, fine. You’re no fun,” Jules pouted. She put it back, then turned around, spotting something else. “Ooh! Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch?”

“What the fuck – no! I’m never going Halloween shopping with you again. You’re on your own,” Lance said, wandering off and taking Hunk with him.

Hunk was laughing. “Why do you keep letting her do this, dude?”

“I don’t know. Anyway, I say we go over to The Costume Company. I think I’m done with mass-produced crap.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll go find Shay and meet up with you two at the car,” Hunk agreed, heading in the direction he’d last seen Shay.

Lance reluctantly went back to his sister. “We’re going to The Costume Company,” he said without getting her attention.

“Hm? Ok,” Jules answered, not paying attention to her twin.

“Bye, then.” He started to leave without her, getting halfway down the aisle of the Halloween pop-up before she realized what he’d said.

“Lance! Get back here, you ass!” she yelled after him.

He ignored her as payback for her insistence on twin costumes and kept going. She chased him all the way to his car, where Hunk and Shay were already waiting. Lance finally lost his composure, cracking up when he reached his waiting friends.

“Leandro. Alejandro. Alameda. McClain. I am going to kill you,” Jules growled while out of breath from chasing him.

“No you won’t,” he said, “Mamá would kill you in return.”

Shay saw her opportunity and took it. “Shotgun!” she announced, hopping into the passenger seat.

“Shay, I love you,” Hunk said, getting in behind Lance, effectively separating the twins.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Acxa, just promise me you won’t give in to Pidge. They’re being totally insufferable with this,” Keith said. He lay on his bed, earbuds connected to the call he was on with his twin.

“You know me better than that. Gremlin won’t get shit out of me. And she’s not getting anywhere near V at the party."

~*~*~*~

Links to the rest of the series:

1 | 2 | 3* | 4 | 5* | 6* | 7 | 8 | 9* | 10 | 11 | 12* | 13 | 14 | 15* | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19*

[destiniesfic]

i hate everybody (but maybe i don’t) 1/3

This is my @jurdannet​ & @jurdannetrevels​​ Secret Snusband gift for @sevenfreckles-for-sevenloves​​! You tapped into a story I’d been wanting to write for ages, so you get three parts and three POVs (Vivi, Cardan, and Jude). Happy Holidays, I hope you like it. ♥ Thanks to @xdarkofthemoon​ for betaing!

This fic is rated E. Content warnings this chapter for excessive alcohol consumption, references to alcoholism, and (prescribed) antidepressant use.

Read on AO3 or read below:

Bars in Barcelona are not especially different from bars in the US. It’s a discovery Vivi has made over the course of her study abroad tenure: everything is different on the outside, but on the inside, not so much. She does like the outsides, though. She likes the tidy streets, the way the buildings don’t rise to blot out the sun as they have a habit of doing in American downtowns. She likes the cozy sameness of the facades, broken by the whimsical surprise of the odd Gaudí contribution. Like a lot of the European cities she’s visited there seems to be some unifying design principle, some common understanding. At home it’s anyone’s guess what the next office building or apartment complex might look like, a mishmash of styles as the cities clamor to reinvent themselves, modernist or postmodernist or deconstructionist or whatever.

Heather could name them all, if Heather were here.

But Heather isn’t here. Tonight, Vivi is out on the town with her two younger half-sisters, Jude and Taryn. Her twin baby sisters, although they hate it when she calls them that. The twins’ spring breaks overlapped by happy accident, so their adoptive dad, Vivi’s biological father, had sent them off on an all-expenses-paid Barcelona trip for a mini family reunion.

Taryn had been thrilled to go out. “I’m so excited that we can drink here,” she’d exclaimed, as she touched up her makeup in the AirBnB’s living room mirror. It’s a two-bed, two-bath apartment with an updated kitchen and certainly beats the dorms. Vivi was forced to give a silent, resentful thanks, Dad, but not out loud.

“You drink at home,” Jude reminded her from the bathroom, where she was trying to wrangle her hair into some style Taryn had sent her from Pinterest. “We have fake IDs.”

“It’s not the same,” Taryn had huffed, applying another coat of mascara. Vivi got that. It had not been the same when they came to Europe before, either, because they had been with Madoc, Oriana, and little Oak. Somehow parents at the table makes the glass of wine with dinner much less daring.

Jude had eventually settled on a high ponytail, and off they went.

Now they’re out at a bar not far from the AirBnB, with each of the twins perched on stools and Vivi leaning against the bar between them. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t seen them for so long except over FaceTime, but Vivi is shocked to notice that her little sisters aren’t kids anymore. They haven’t been little for a while, not since they overtook Vivi in height when they were twelve, but it’s one thing to not be little and another to be an adult. Taryn, who’s been yearning for adulthood since her tweens, finally looks more at home in the role. And Vivi doesn’t know how Taryn got Jude into that dark purple halter dress, which dips low in the front and lower in the back, but the way she wears that and her lipstick is a stark reminder that Vivi’s sisters are in fact nineteen, and no longer chubby, soft-faced children. It’s weird, and Vivi doesn’t like it.

Vivi gets hit on sometimes—with her undercut and piercings, mostly by “alternative” men and curious women—but the novelty of good-looking twins means Jude and Taryn shouldn’t need to pay for their own drinks. And they wouldn’t, except anytime a guy gets too close to Jude or Taryn, Jude adopts a laser-eyed glare and says, “No,” which is thankfully the same in both languages. Otherwise she might start speaking with fists.

“I don’t know why you won’t let us get free drinks,” Taryn pouts.

“The drinks are on Madoc,” Jude points out, nodding to the credit card Vivi puts back in her pocket. “They’re basically free.”

Taryn mutters, “It’s the principle of the thing.”

“You guys are such sisters,” Vivi says, taking a swig of beer.

“What does that mean?” they demand in unison.

Vivi grins and closes her eyes, shaking her head. For a second she just stands there, between the twins, and lets everything wash over her: the sibling bickering, the pungent smell of beer and whatever syrup is in Jude’s cocktail, and the music. Music is a strange experience in bars here. First there’s a Spanish song Vivi’s never heard, and then there’s Halsey, crooning over a Chainsmokers beat, and then back to Spanish with perennial favorite “Despacito.” It’s total whiplash. Vivi loves it.

It’s only because she’s listening so hard that she hears Taryn give a tiny gasp.

Vivi opens her eyes. Jude has gone very, very still. Her shoulders, which had been hunched up around her ears as she leaned over the bar, roll down her back, and the muscles there tense. Vivi is not sure Jude is remembering to breathe. She and Taryn are both staring at some fixed point across the bar, so Vivi looks too.

“Oh, hell,” she says.

On the other side of the bar—of the small space they are all crammed into—are four familiar figures. Three boys, one girl. Vivi has to blink to place them, because it seems absurd that four kids they went to high school with would show up in Spain while they, the Duarte sisters, are also in Spain, and also because they weren’t in Vivi’s grade. She knows them, though. Everyone knows Cardan Greenbriar and his trio of hot, mean friends, but Vivi knows them particularly well because of how her sisters have tangled with them over the years.

Taryn whispers, “What are they doing here?”

“I can go ask,” Vivi sighs. That group of kids has no quarrel with her. She and Cardan were friendly back in the day, meaning “ten years ago when Vivi would go hang out with Cardan’s older sister.”

“No,” Jude says, voice firm. Without taking her eyes off the interlopers, she picks up her cocktail and downs the rest of it.

Vivi doesn’t know exactly what happened, but Jude shed her fight-or-flight response sometime in high school. Now, she only has a fight response. Maybe Vivi took her flight response, because it was Vivi who was the terror until she turned eighteen, when she got the hell out of dodge. Taryn has always been in the middle, trying to keep the peace.

“We can go somewhere else,” Taryn suggests.

“No,” Jude repeats, setting her glass down on the bar a little too hard. “I’m not going to let those jerks keep me from having a good time.”

“Which I respect, and more power to you, but also, like, there are plenty of bars in Barcelona,” Vivi points out.

Jude glares. “I’m fine.” And then she holds up one finger in the bartender’s direction.

“You know those are really alcoholic, right?” Taryn says. Worry begins to seep into her voice like melting snow through cracks in a sidewalk.

“I know my limits.”

Vivi and Taryn exchange a wary glance. Jude might know her limits, but she has no problem blowing past them. Jude may not think Vivi remembers the tae kwon do tournament she sat through when Jude was eleven and Vivi was thirteen, but oh, Vivi does. Vivi remembers how her sister volunteered to spar until she had tired herself out to the point where she could no longer stand. Vivi also remembers Jude driving to school on a single hour of sleep after staying up to finish an extra credit essay in a class where she already had an A. Jude somehow didn’t crash her car, but she had been unbearable the entire day. Jude is a danger to herself and very occasionally a menace to society.

But Jude is also an adult and it’s not Vivi’s business.

“Suit yourself,” Vivi says, with a shrug. “It’s dear old Dad’s money.”

A few minutes later, Jude is nursing her second cocktail, and Vivi and Taryn are trying to carry on a conversation as though everything is fine. Any normal person would be well loosened up by now, but Jude retains that unnatural stillness like a dog who’s noticed a squirrel on the other side of a yard. Or, more accurately, maybe like a deer who’s spotted a human hunter approaching over the ridge.

Jude is no defenseless herbivore, but Vivi knows half a lifetime of being bullied has made her feel like a target.

“Hey,” Vivi says, jostling Jude with her elbow.

“What?”

“Tell me about your freshman year misadventures. Taryn won’t open up.”

Jude snorts. “What misadventures?”

“You have to have a few,” Vivi says. “I didn’t raise my sisters to be boring.”

“You didn’t raise us at all,” Jude mutters at her cocktail.

Vivi has never seen her sister anywhere near drunk before and is not sure she likes her like this. “What about boys?” she asks, gently elbowing Jude again. Then she raises her eyebrows. “Girls?”

“No. Nobody.” Jude finishes her second drink and, glaring across the bar, apparently makes the decision to switch to shots. “Vivi, is vodka still ‘vodka’ in Spanish?”

“I’m not answering that.” Vivi sighs. “What about you, Taryn? Anybody?”

“Huh? Um, no.” Taryn had been looking at their erstwhile schoolmates too. One of the boys, the redhead, is looking back. Locke. Vivi exhales. Bad news. There’s history there, the kind of history that shouldn’t repeat.

“Reeeeally?” she asks. “Nobody? Not one boy?”

Taryn blinks back to herself. “Vivi, I go to school for fashion design. They’re all gay.”

“Well, that can be fun.” Vivi gestures at herself. God, she wishes her sisters had brought Heather along. The hot lady bartender with the gorgeous tattoo sleeve keeps trying to catch her eye, and Vivi and Heather had established a “what happens in Barcelona stays in Barcelona” policy before she left, but Vivi doesn’t want a hot lady bartender. She wants her girlfriend.

“Yeah, they’re cool.” Taryn glances back across the bar. Now the blue-haired girl—Nicasia, Vivi recalls—is looking back, along with Locke. Not good.

Since Jude is negotiating for a shot of vodka with hot lady bartender in competent enough Spanish, Vivi lowers her voice and asks Taryn, “Are you feeling especially homesick?”

“We’ve kept in touch.” Taryn doesn’t meet her eyes.

Vivi would hold more of a grudge if someone had tried to sleep with her and her sister, but that’s very much not her circus or her monkeys. She asks, “Did you know he’d be here?”

Taryn shakes her head. “He said they were doing a European tour for spring break, but, like, it’s a big continent.”

“Good news,” says Jude, holding up a shot glass. “It’s vodka in both languages. Cheers.”

“You are going to be sick,” Taryn says.

Jude gives her a sarcastic shrug and then downs the shot. She coughs a little, which somewhat ruins the impression she’s trying to make, but swallows it all down.

“Jude,” Vivi says, beginning to worry, “we really can just leave.”

But Jude is looking at her old high school nemeses again. Cardan had been a particular thorn in her side, or he in hers; Vivi never made sense of that conflict, of who had started what. What she does know is that they’ve definitely been spotted now. The blond boy—Vivi doesn’t quite remember his name—seems to make a move to walk over to them, but Cardan reaches out and grabs his arm, shaking his head. Valentine? Valentino? looks sour, but doesn’t approach. Jude stares them both down.

“I have to use the bathroom,” Taryn announces. “El baño.” Taryn had taken French in high school.

“But—” Vivi begins.

Taryn has already vanished into the crowd. Vivi puts her elbows on the bar and cradles her head in her hands. “This is all going great.”

“Not how you pictured our night out on the town?” asks Jude, who has obtained another shot of vodka from God knows where.

“Yeah, not really.”

“Well, I can fix it.” Jude drinks her second shot and does not cough this time. “I’m going to go talk to them.”

Vivi picks up her head. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“So what?”

“Dad’s going to hold me responsible if anything happens to you.”

Jude fixes a level stare on her. “Dad never holds you responsible for anything,” she says. She slips a little when she gets up off her stool. Vivi wonders if she’s really thinking about fighting someone in those heels.

“You’re mean drunk,” Vivi tells her, trying to grab her arm. “Don’t go.”

“I’m mean sober, but nobody notices,” says Jude, which doesn’t make any sense. She shakes Vivi off. “Besides, I have a few things I want to say.”

And for the second time that night, Vivi watches as one of her sisters pushes her way into the crowd of people, unsure if she should follow or not. Maybe it’ll be good for Jude, in the end, to get some of this out of her system.

The guys across the room are watching Jude approach. Cardan especially. The blond guy is sneering, but Cardan watches Jude with the same strange stillness with which she’d watched him. Like he’s holding his breath until she gets there. Unlike Jude, he doesn’t seem that drunk at all, which Vivi notices because, well, it’s a rare day that Cardan Greenbriar isn’t drunk.

But he is too busy watching her and not his blond friend, who decides that he’s going to intercept Jude before she can even reach Cardan. He pushes over to her first and bars her way, and although Vivi is too far away to hear what’s said between them, she notices the squaring of Jude’s shoulders and the widening of the blond guy’s sneer. Because she is watching closely, she sees that Valerian is the one who shoves Jude first.

Valerian. That’s his name.

It clicks right before Jude punches him in the face.

The bar erupts. Cardan springs to his feet and tries to pull his friend away from Jude. A couple of nearby patrons try to save Jude from herself—Vivi could have told them it was a fool’s errand—by holding her back, not knowing Jude has sharp elbows. Valerian struggles hard and manages to break away from Cardan, only to find himself being grabbed by more pairs of hands. There is shouting in Spanish. Even the hot lady bartender is drawn away, trying to signal her coworkers.

The most Vivi-like thing to do would be to leave Jude to it and keep her nose clean. But Vivi remembers asking Madoc on the day of that fateful tae kwon do tournament, while they revived Jude with sips of Gatorade, why Madoc hadn’t stopped Jude when it became clear she was flagging. “Your sister needs to learn for herself when to stop fighting,” he’d said. “If I make those calls for her, she never will.”

Vivi has a lot of qualms with Madoc’s parenting style, and Taryn is nowhere to be found.

“Oh, hell,” Vivi says again, and she dives into the knot of drunk brawlers to pull her sister from the fray.

---

“I can’t believe you got us kicked out,” Vivi says.

Jude, drunk, hapless Jude, is sitting on the curb with her head between her knees, presumably trying not to barf. There’s still enough anger left in her to flip Vivi off.

“Unbelievable.” Vivi folds her arms and looks left, then right. It seems like a good quarter of the bar spilled out onto the sidewalk with them, a crowd of people chattering about what just happened. Forget kicked out, Jude’s lucky she wasn’t arrested. “Do you see Taryn anywhere?”

“What do you think?”

Vivi pinches the bridge of her nose. Taryn will be fine. She has the AirBnB address and a phone she can use on WiFi. Besides, as far as Vivi knows, she ran off with Locke. Vivi hasn’t seen the two of them come out of the bar yet, and she would not be surprised. She knows a bad decision when she sees one.

“You keep sitting down,” Vivi tells Jude. “I’m going to figure out a ride home.”

“Your face should keep sitting down,” Jude mumbles spitefully.

“Hey, guys? Vivi?”

Vivi cringes as soon as she hears the voice, because she knows the voice, and because in this situation the owner of that voice will only make things worse. Vivi doesn’t have any personal grudge against Cardan Greenbriar—they’ve even sometimes been friends—except for how her sister feels about him. Taryn’s always said he was kind of a dick, but Taryn doesn’t hate him like Jude does. Nobody hates anybody the way Jude hates Cardan. Vivi wonders if Jude has something to prove.

Sure enough, Jude’s head swivels at the sound of his voice like the kid’s head turning around in The Exorcist. “You,” she snarls, and then stumbles to her feet.

“Jude,” Vivi says, trying to catch her sister’s dress to pull her back, but Jude is already out of reach. With another sigh, Vivi stands too.

“What are you doing here?” Jude demands of Cardan, openly hostile. It would be funny, because Jude is a full head shorter than him, if Jude was anybody else’s sister. “We were all having a great time until you showed up.”

“It’s anybody’s city,” Cardan says, but he doesn’t seem to be mocking her. He holds up his hands to show her they are empty.

“Go the fuck home!” Jude yells, and shoves him, sending him back a couple of steps.

Vivi shouts, “Woah!”

“It’s okay,” Cardan tells Vivi over Jude’s head. “She’s not hurting me. Let her get it out.”

With a little cry, Jude pushes him again, and this time he only stumbles back a half-step, but he keeps his hands up and his stance somewhat grounded. The next time Jude shoves him he doesn’t budge at all, and Jude lets out a grunt of frustration, fisting her hands in his jacket.

And then she bursts into tears.

“Oh,” says Vivi, but Cardan doesn’t seem that surprised. She wonders if he’s used to people behaving badly while drunk or just being drunk himself.

“You’re so a-awful,” Jude says between sobs. “Everything’s awful all the time.”

“I know, Jude,” Cardan replies. He gently pries the jacket out of her fists so he can remove it and drape it over her bare shoulders. Jude grabs onto his shirt instead.

“Why do you hate me so much?” she asks, with a small hiccup.

“I don’t,” Cardan replies. His hand rubs circles between his shoulder blades. “But I hope you’re too drunk to remember that.” He looks up at Vivi, and Vivi feels a brief flash of embarrassment, like she’s intruded on something intimate, before she remembers that they’re in public and, also, she has no shame. “Were you going to get a taxi? I can keep an eye on her while you do. I don’t think she should walk back.”

“Oh.” Vivi blinks. “Yeah. I’ve got it. Where’s your ‘friend?’”

“Sent him packing. He’s back at the hotel, or he should be.”

“Well… good.”

But Cardan isn’t listening. He’s already looking down at Jude again.

It turns out Vivi has, carelessly, let her phone die. She isn’t anal about things like that. Taryn’s the one who keeps a charger in her purse at all times, but Taryn has vanished, and Jude’s phone only works on WiFi outside of the States.

So they hail one of Barcelona's bumblebee-like taxis the old-fashioned way, and Vivi is the one who climbs into the passenger’s seat and tells the driver where to go in Spanish that’s fluent, if definitely not Spain-Spanish. It is deeply ironic that Vivi, the only sister without a drop of Duarte blood in her veins, is the one who speaks Spanish the best. But Jude and Taryn were only seven when their parents died. Vivi had been nine. Two years makes a big difference with these things, especially because memories are shaping and re-shaping themselves in the minds of children that young. As far as the twins’ brains are concerned, they only had their parents for a short time.

Vivi remembers more. She remembers sitting on the counter in the old kitchen, legs swinging, as her dad cooked on Fridays—the special day, the end of the week day—and pointing at things in the kitchen so Justin could tell her their names in Spanish and she could echo them back. Cebolla, onion. Queso, cheese, of course. Cuchara, spoon. The words had a favor of their own, different from the English words she learned in kindergarten. She remembers the smell of toasting coriander seeds, the bright songs her dad would hum, the vibrant melodies bursting from the CD player Vivi leaned her elbow on. When she got far enough along in school, she threw herself into Spanish, hoping the words would pave a road that would lead her back to the man who shaped her.

Sometimes Jude gets in a sulk about their awful twist of fate, or Taryn gets weepy, and Vivi just wants to yell Justin Duarte was my dad, too! She feels like her throat is raw from screaming it her entire adolescence. It was easier in the end to just move away for college.

She ended up in Spain because Madoc and Oriana weren’t keen on her going to Mexico. Oh, sure, they’d been before on vacation no problemo, but as soon as Vivi wanted to go alone it was game over. No matter how much Vivi told them it was very racist of them and a total double standard. Apparently Oriana didn’t want her getting kidnapped. Vivi, who has in fact seen the movie Taken, knows she can get kidnapped in Europe just as easily, thanks very much. That had not been a persuasive argument with Madoc.

So here she is, in Barcelona, where familiar words can have entirely different flavors, and that’s even before getting to Catalan, which she can now speak a little but not well. Most of the time, she’ll be honest, she does love it here. At this moment she’s not feeling charitable toward anything.

Cardan helps load Jude into the backseat of the taxi. The driver, looking in the rearview mirror, asks, “¿Su novio?”

“¿Qué?” Vivi asks reflexively. She cranes her head around to see Cardan sliding in next to Jude, his arm around her shoulder. She switches to English. “What the hell, dude?”

“She won’t let go,” Cardan says simply. It’s true; Jude is clinging to him like a very weepy barnacle, her shoulders still shaking.

“Alright, well.” Vivi turns back around. It’s good to have the extra pair of hands. She wishes again that Heather was here. “You’re the official Jude wrangler now.”

“Copy that. I just—” He sighs, and in the rearview, Vivi sees him rub his face with his free hand. “It’s my fault.”

“Sure is.” The taxi begins to pull away from the curb, and Vivi checks her anger. She amends, “Actually, no, it’s not your fault that my sister’s a lightweight and an angry drunk. But from what I hear, the years of prior psychological damage are totally your fault. So, credit where credit is due.”

Cardan nods. Jude sniffles forlornly. Vivi is intrigued by how gentle he’s being with her, how tolerant. His shirt looks like a regular cotton tee, but knowing him it probably costs about the same as a single night in their very nice AirBnB. He doesn’t seem to mind that Jude’s getting snot and tears all over it.

“Hate you,” Jude mutters, pressing her face into his shoulder. “Hate this.”

“I know.” He pushes a lock of hair that’s escaped from her ponytail. “What are you on?”

“Huh?” There’s a pause. Vivi is watching the road now, but she can imagine Jude’s confused blinking. “I don’t… drugs.”

“Meds.”

“Oh, um, fuck.” Another pause. “Zoloft. I switched this year.”

“You’re not supposed to drink on that stuff,” Cardan says, but it almost sounds like he’s teasing. “It messes you up. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one.”

Jude sniffs. “It’s not like I’m operating heavy machinery,” she says, slurring slightly.

Cardan chuckles. “I did the Zoloft thing, too. I’m not on it anymore, though.”

“‘Cause you couldn’t drink?”

“Like anything would stop me.” He pauses, and Vivi looks into the rearview mirror to find him biting his lower lip in an exaggerated way, so drunk Jude is sure to get the joke. “No, there were... personal reasons.”

Jude is utterly nonplussed. “What?”

“Ah, you know…” He leans over and whispers something to her. Her eyes widen, and then she lets out a small, nervous chuckle. “Oh.”

“Yeah, I was like ‘If I can’t have sex, won’t that just make me more depressed?’”

To Vivi’s great surprise, Jude giggles. A totally surreal sound. She hasn’t giggled like that in years, if ever.

“There we go,” says Cardan, weirdly indulgent. “No more crying. Or, well—oh, okay,” he adds, as Jude turns her head and begins quietly sobbing into the sleeve of his shirt. “I guess some more crying.”

“You seem very sober,” Vivi remarks.

“Yeah, I’m trying it on. Just club soda for me tonight.” He leans over to rest his head on top of Jude’s. “It, cómo se dice, sucks.”

“Like your accent.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Vivi is beginning to get vaguely suspicious. She says, “But you are handling this well. Just used to dealing with a lot of drunks?”

“Huh? Oh.” Cardan’s dark eyes flick up to meet Vivi’s in the mirror. “This isn’t the first time. Jude got wasted at prom, after the stuff with Locke and Taryn came to light. Completely trashed.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“You were finishing up sophomore year, right? In like, Massachusetts? And it’s not like she would have told you. If she’s lucky, she doesn’t remember it. I loaded her into the Uber that took her home.”

Vivi’s stomach twists, but she channels the newfound sister guilt into suspicion and narrows her eyes. “Decent of you.”

“Yeah, I was trying that out, too. Got puked on for the trouble.” Cardan leans his head back against the headrest now. Jude’s sobs have quieted down. “But I still remember the Four Phases of Drunk Jude Duarte.”

“I’m glad somebody does,” Vivi admits. “What are they?”

“Angry, weepy, horny, sick.”

She snorts. “Basically Snow White’s shittiest dwarves.”

“Basically,” Cardan agrees. “But you’re not in danger of her getting sick yet, because we haven’t hit—ah. Um. Well.” He clears his throat. “Never mind.”

Vivi looks up into the mirror again to see Cardan plucking Jude’s hand off of him and returning it to her. “Did we just hit horny?”

“We just hit horny,” he says, his voice strained. Jude has her face buried in his neck again, but this time for entirely different reasons. The hand he had returned to Jude is already sliding back down his shirt. “Okay, hands above the waist. No, above—”

“Oh my God.” Vivi covers her mouth to stifle her laughter.

“Great. Very helpful, Vivienne,” Cardan says, grabbing Jude’s wrist and holding it still. It speaks to their relationship as nearly family friends that he can use her full name without invoking her wrath. “Your sister is outright molesting me and you can’t even tell her to knock it off?”

He doesn’t sound totally panicked, though. “I think you might want my sister to molest you,” Vivi guesses, turning around in her seat to look at him. Somehow, Jude has managed to thoroughly drape herself across him, but Cardan is showing admirable and frankly uncharacteristic self-restraint by keeping her from doing anything that can’t be undone. “Just a little.”

“When she’s sober. Jude, don’t bite my ear. Jude—”

Vivi snickers. The rest of the short ride passes like that, with Cardan deflecting Jude’s advances and Vivi deflecting the taxi driver’s questions about what exactly is happening back there and whether Jude is going to be sick all over his floor mats. They are lucky enough to not hit “sick” until Jude is out of the car and walking up the five stairs to the door of the apartment building. With Cardan’s warning in mind, Vivi is able to jump back in time.

Cardan, who is nearer to Jude, is not so lucky. She leans against the railing and doubles over it, but his shoes and the bottoms of his jeans are still caught in the splash zone. “Okay, great,” he says, gathering her back up. He does not sound entirely tolerant now, but he also doesn’t sound as angry as Vivi might expect. “That’s over. Feel any better?”

“No,” Jude mutters.

“You might in the morning.” He moves them both so Vivi can pass and open the door. “Man, is this really only the second time this has ever happened to you? I have to say, I’m jealous. Not of you in this moment, of course. Just in general.”

“We can’t all be charming teenage alcoholics,” Vivi says, propping the door open so Cardan can help her through.

“You hear that, Jude?” Cardan asks. “Your sister thinks I’m charming.”

“Uh-huh,” says Jude.

“Don’t let it go to your head,” Vivi warns. “She’s almost out. Let’s get her upstairs.”

Jude doesn’t make it into the bedroom she and Taryn are sharing. They put her to bed on the couch, on her side, with Cardan’s jacket draped over her. There’s no laundry machine in the AirBnB, but Vivi finds some detergent in the cabinet and they fill the bathroom sink with lukewarm water so Cardan can wash his jeans. Vivi is not sure the right time for the conversation she should have is now, when Cardan is standing in his boxer briefs and Jude is passed out in the next room, but on the bright side, there probably isn’t a worse time.

“You know, I didn’t think we had this level of friendship,” Cardan remarks, dunking his jeans in the sudsy water. “Dealing with your sister must really be a bonding experience. You always liked Rhyia best.”

“Well, Rhyia’s cool.” Vivi folds her arms and leans in the doorway. She kicked off her boots when they got in the door, so Cardan now looks even taller, although certainly not very intimidating in his underwear. “Calvin Klein. Nice. You always struck me as more of a boxers guy, I have to say.”

“Sometimes. These jeans are pretty tight, though.” He looks over at her. “Do you need something?”

She shakes her head. “Oh, nothing. I just can’t believe you’re trying to fuck my sister.”

“I’m not trying to fuck your sister,” Cardan says, massaging his jeans in the sink in such a way that Vivi is forced to wonder whether he’s ever done his own laundry. “She’s wasted. And she hates me.”

Vivi frowns deeply.

Cardan asks, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Vivienne Leigh—”

“Don’t you pull out my full name for this. You’re playing some game here and I will figure out what it—oh.”

“What now?”

Vivi squints at him. “Are you in love with my sister?”

Cardan lets out an exhausted sigh. “Taryn isn’t really my type.”

They both know they aren’t talking about Taryn. “What the fuck. How long?”

“Like a year. Or maybe my whole life. I’m not sure.”

“Does she know?”

“I really hope not.” Cardan grimaces at his reflection in the mirror, and then looks past himself to see where Jude sleeps on the couch. “She’d never let me live it down.”

“Okay, well…” Vivi pauses. This is more older sibling responsibility than she signed up for. “What are your… intentions?”

“I don’t have any.” Vivi purses her lips, and he adds, “I really don’t. I wasn’t expecting to see her tonight. I kind of thought I’d never see her again after we graduated.” He pauses and looks down at the sink. “I think, someday, I’d like to be a person she likes. That she’s capable of liking.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“Huh.” He has it really, really bad. Vivi can’t imagine what Jude said or did to make him feel that way about her. Maybe it was her total lack of regard for him? “Is this why you bullied her for years?”

“I hope not!” Cardan exclaims, in a way that suggests this thought has occurred to him before, and moreover, that it actually bothers him. “I don’t know! I don’t want to be that fucking cliché, Vivi.”

“We’re all cliché in our own special ways,” Vivi says, glancing back at Jude. A vague plot is beginning to take shape in her brain. Jude is the plotter, Taryn the planner—there is a difference—and Vivi the pantser, normally. But there is something here that she thinks she can exploit. “Seeing as you have no pants, you should probably stay over. I don’t think any of our clothes will fit you.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. You can have one of the twin beds.” After a beat, she adds, “I’m not telling you which one is Jude’s.”

“Darn,” Cardan deadpans. “Now I don’t know which one to jerk off in.”

Vivi pulls a face. “That’s the idea.” And then, because Cardan is hopeless, she reaches forward and yanks the plug from the drain. “Rinse off your jeans in clean water. Otherwise they’ll dry all stiff and soapy.”

“Thank you for the advice, oh wise one.”

She rolls her eyes and leaves him to it. After checking on Jude, whose coloring and breathing are both normal, she heads back to her room and looks at her phone. Nothing from Taryn, even though it’s later than Vivi thought, but Vivi isn’t worried. Taryn’s kind of like a cat in that, somehow, she always manages to land on her feet. Vivi fires off a quick text to her, then stares at the glowing screen, thinking about the way Cardan had rested his head on top of Jude’s in the back of the taxi.

She texts Heather: sisters are a lot of work

And:

i wish you were here

It’s much earlier in New England. When the three dots pop up to indicate that Heather is typing a reply, Vivi smiles.

[mostlycompetentwriter]

Domesticated

M/F Pairing: Y/N x Bang Chan (Stray Kids) 

Genre: Married Life AU

Warnings: Smut, language, some mentions of cheating (but not with the main pairing)

Word Count: 19,922 (I might break this up later on)

Summary: Marriage was something Y/N had been dreaming about since she was a little girl. But now, ten years later, she’s married to her college sweetheart, but their relationship isn’t entirely perfect. There’s the issue of her new boss, aka her ex-boyfriend Seo Changbin, and Chan’s younger brother Felix who insists on calling her Medusa. Yet, through it all, Y/N is positive she wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Notes: Y'all are really out here sleeping on husband Bang Chan and I won’t allow it anymore. Because Chan is 100% husband goals.

“Where do you see yourself in five years?”

I slowly exhaled after disregarding my somewhat passable resume, courtesy of one of those sketchy website builders, to look at the interviewer who waited for my response, pen poised over his expensive notebook. I swallowed hard as I struggled to compose myself under pressure. Because there was a professional answer somewhere in the back of my useless brain, but a dozen other responses, far more honest than his expectations, were waiting on the tip of my tongue.

Such as: 

Waiting at home for my husband because all I do is stare at the clock, counting down the minutes until he walks through the door. I kinda miss when we were in college and could see each other sporadically between long lectures, grabbing lunch at the Wendy’s on South Campus. Now, the most exciting thing that happens is the occasional blow job before we pass out on the worn mattress in our master bedroom.

Or

Sometimes Chan will host dinner parties at the house for his expensive doctor friends. He won’t spare me a single glance while I rush to fill glasses with rich-tasting wine, keeping an eye on Han Jisung because he can’t take more than three refills before he’s trying to dismantle the house. I’ll also have to ignore the really old surgeon who Chan admires because he likes to touch my ass when I pass through the living room. Maybe I was suited to be a sugar baby in another life.

Or

On the rare occasion when Chan actually uses his cock, he’ll pant in my ear the entire time because he’s worn out from long hours at the hospital. Chan will cum before me most of the time and I’m lucky if he’s cognizant enough to eat me out so that I can finally fall asleep from my post-orgasmic haze. Heck, I’ll even take his fingers on my clit if it means an assured eight hours of sleep.

Shit, I miss being young.

I cleared my throat, deciding on the professional answer because I highly doubt Seo Enterprises wanted to hire a desperate housewife.

I was sprawled out on the couch in our living room when Chan came home that evening. I barely acknowledged his rushed greeting, watching through narrowed eyes as he ran into the kitchen. “Babe,” came his anticipated whine. “There’s no leftovers?”

“I didn’t feel like cooking,” I said, turning over to bury my face in the throw pillows decorating the cushions. It really wasn’t that comfortable since Chan insisted we get the stiff, fancy leather futon as opposed to the appealing sectional that could actually recline. 

“You didn’t cook?”

Chan’s voice was closer this time but I still ignored him, sensing an impending headache. “I had an interview.”

“That was hours ago,” Chan pouted.

I sighed loudly. “The interview went great, honey, thanks for asking.”

“I’ve been at the hospital since 5 this morning,” Chan went on, weight dipping beneath the couch at the opposite end. “I didn’t even have time for lunch because Jisung almost fucked up a patient’s IV.”

“Remind me again why he still has a job.”

“Because he somehow graduated from nursing school and has a license claiming he’s qualified,” Chan said. “Plus, he’s my friend.”

“You have shit taste in friends,” I said, protesting when his hand landed a firm smack against my ass. 

“Minho tried to wreck the Corvette when he ran out of cigarettes.”

“Minho is loyal.”

“He still wants to fuck you,” Chan grumped. “Ten years after college and he’s trailing after your ass.”

“Darling, you don’t have to be jealous when I’m wearing your ugly ring on my finger 24/7.”

“It was my mother’s!”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Bang Chan,” I snapped while grabbing one of my support pillows from beneath my weight, launching it at my husband’s head. Sadly, Chan dodged at the last minute, much to my chagrin, smirking as he dug his fingers into my sides, forcing loud, high-pitched giggles as we both unceremoniously fell into the spotlessly clean floor. “Channie,” I groaned as he rolled on top of me, pinning my hands above my head before deciding to offer me a sloppy kiss with far too much tongue. “You’re fucking gross,” I said, biting at his lower lip in revenge.

“Yeah? Well, you’re fucking sexy,” Chan purred, nuzzling his head between my breasts. 

“Stop it, you oaf!” I grumbled. “My period starts tomorrow. My tits have been sore all day.”

“Maybe I should have a look,” Chan teased, a free hand working loose one of the buttons on my shirt.

“And what good will that do?”

“Well, I am a doctor.”

“You just want to see my tits so you have something to jerk off to in the shower tonight.”

“Shower with me then,” Chan suggested. “I’ll fuck you against the wall.”

“Will you have the stamina?” I questioned. “You poor thing, how can you get it up when you haven’t eaten all day?”

Chan frowned at my mocking tone. “Are you turning down my cock?”

“You’re only half-hard,” I said, lifting my thigh against the tight bulge of his scrubs.

Chan let out a sigh, but his smile was endearing. “What if I order takeout? Then we can fuck in the shower.”

“Channie,” I cooed. “You always know how to talk dirty to me.”

I stand by my belief that email was now an archaic form of communication, but the number of big businesses that forced their employees to make an account @ their company name was ridiculous. But if I wanted to find a job in this big ass city, then I needed to play by the rules. Surprisingly, my most recent application was progressing with far more success than I could have anticipated, and I had read over the new email from Seo Enterprises at least half a dozen times:

Dear Mrs. Bang,

Thank you for taking the time to interview with our staff yesterday afternoon. After carefully reviewing your file with our CEO, he has asked us to schedule one last consultation. Please let us know your earliest convenience.

“That must be a good thing,” Minho remarked, digging his spoon into my ice cream since his bowl was empty and I wasn’t in the mood to argue with him. 

“I guess,” I said, formulating a quick reply because I really wanted this fancy, high-paying Secretary job. I mean, sitting at home all day was definitely not high on my list of accomplishments.

“What’s the hurry anyway?” Minho asked as he licked his spoon clean. “Bang has enough money that you could just smooch off him for the rest of your life.”

“That’s not fair,” I said. “I want us to be equals.”

“Wasn’t that the point of marrying a doctor, Y/N?” Minho asked. “Otherwise, you could still be screwing around with me.”

“Except we aren’t 18 anymore,” I pointed out, frowning in his direction. “And says the guy who works part-time at his sister’s pet shop.”

“Hey!” Minho protested, shoving his spoon in my face. “I’m helping the strays. Population control and shit.”

“So what? You’re snipping some dog penises, good for you.”

Minho sat back with a disgruntled sigh. “What do you want to do after this?”

“I’ll bring Chan some lunch since he didn’t get a chance to eat yesterday,” I said. “Interested in accompanying an old friend?”

“Not really,” Minho said. “But I don’t have anything better to do.”

I maintained a long list of places that I truly despised and the hospital was number one. I always tried desperately not to let it show when I visited Chan because it wasn’t really his fault. I had a bad history when it came to hospitals and the memories lingered like the permanent smell of alcohol that Chan brought home with him on his scrubs.

“Did you see that guy in the waiting room?” Minho asked after I checked us in at the front desk. “He was seconds away from bleeding out on the floor.”

“Don’t talk about blood,” I shivered, hurrying to the elevator while frantically hitting the corresponding floor number.

“This reminding you of Freshman year?” Minho asked since he was a total airhead and missed out on the memo where I specifically told him to keep his mouth shut about that stupid Frat Party.

“There are five reasons why I hate hospitals,” I said, holding up my hand in front of his stupid face. “Don’t make me spell it out for you.”

“Is Freshman year one of them?”

“Shut the hell up, Minho.”

A quiet chuckle resounded through the empty elevator while I impatiently waited for our stop. “You’re feisty today,” Minho remarked once the doors reopened.

I ignored the nasty linoleum floors, heels clicking with every step I took in the direction of Chan’s office. “I’m eating with Chan and then we’re never coming here again.”

“Agreed,” Minho said, keeping pace with me while cringing at the gurneys being pushed through the hallways at an alarming rate. 

We had almost made it to the end of the floor when I heard a lazy voice call out my name from one of the surrounding rooms. I closed my eyes because I could recognize that voice anywhere since it basically haunted my worst nightmares. He might not know it yet, but Han Jisung was the last person I wanted to run into because maybe, just maybe, he was one of the five reasons why I hated this place.

“Guys!” Jisung gushed, smiling brilliantly. “I’d hug you but I just finished cleaning piss off the floor.”

“Jesus, Han,” I said, wrinkling my nose against the overpowering smell of ammonia. “Is Chan in his office?”

“He was supposed to meet with our new superintendent,” Jisung said, grinning like a complete idiot when he shoved his gloved hands towards Minho who now looked a few beats away from losing his ice cream.

“You’re really pushing your luck today,” Minho growled at him.

“The meeting room is the last room on the right,” Jisung said, finally proving to be useful for once in his life.

I grabbed Minho’s arm because he was close to decking Jisung in the face and I didn’t need the security guards to tell Chan that I let my best friend attack one of his nurses. “Come on,” I said, urging him away from the potential crime scene.

“He’s this close to finding himself with a bloody nose,” Minho complained. “You know what’s funny? I’m pretty sure Han Jisung wouldn’t even know how to help himself.”

“You’re probably right,” I agreed, straightening the collar of my blouse as I peeked in through the tight blinds obscuring the glass wall of the room Jisung had indicated. “There’s Chan...” I started, trailing off when I noticed that he was engrossed in deep conversation with an unfamiliar woman.

“Oh, she’s really hot,” Minho remarked, wincing when I shoved my elbow into his chest.

“Commentary is not necessary,” I said, folding my arms across my chest as I tapped my foot against the floor. Who the hell did this bitch think she was?

“Jealousy isn’t a good look on you,” Minho teased and I swallowed my pride, trying to ignore the way she reached out to touch Chan’s arm.

Thankfully, Chan finally noticed me outside, offering me a cheesy wave which I refused to reciprocate as he said something to the woman. I waited outside the door, attempting my best stern expression even if Chan completely ignored my efforts, encasing me in his powerful arms. “Y/N,” he cooed.

“Chan,” I choked out, struggling against his strength.

Minho snorted at the display. “I’m going to find the cafeteria. Text me when you wanna leave, Y/N.”

I waved him off once Chan eventually released me. I sucked in a few grateful breaths while holding up the takeout bag I had brought. “Is there somewhere we can go?”

Chan nodded, reaching for my hand. “Sorry I took so long, I was meeting with the new superintendent.”

I pursed my lips at that revelation. “She doesn’t look old enough to be a superintendent.”

“She’s around my age,” Chan said and I frowned because that just made everything worse.

The hospital’s staff room was small, the smell of coffee heavy in the air as Chan closed the door behind us. “Nobody should come in.”

“Good,” I said, choosing the only table that looked halfway clean before sitting down with a sigh. “I brought you lunch.”

“Thanks, sweetie,” Chan said, gratefully accepting the bag from me while he sat down on the remaining chair. I glared at him from across the table, watching as he dug into the cheap Japanese like it was his last meal on earth. “Is something wrong?” he asked over a mouthful of noodles. Something college Chan would have never done when we first started dating, but I suppose that’s what you get with marriage.

“I saw you were pretty close with your new superintendent,” I said.

“Oh yeah,” Chan replied cheerfully, stuffing even more food into his impossibly wide mouth. “She’s super smart. Like, Harvard graduate smart.”

“Of course she is,” I murmured. “Do you like her?”

“As a boss I guess,” Chan said, still horribly naive to the real problem. I cathartically drummed my fingernails against the surface of the table. 

“Are you coming home early tonight?” I asked him. “I’ll fix your favorite.”

Chan’s eyes lit up because, despite the food sitting right in front of him, he always got excited at the prospect of another meal. “Really?”

I nodded. “I’ll put the good whiskey on ice.”

Chan sat back with a dramatic groan. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Where is all this coming from?”

“I’m just being a good wife,” I said, taking on a dismissive tone.

Chan grinned. “Do you want something, sweetheart? You know I’ll buy you anything.”

��No reason,” I chirped. “I just want you to remember how good am I to you.”

“Of course I know that,” Chan said, reaching across the table to squeeze one of my hands. “I didn’t just marry you for your beautiful face.”

“That’s not what you said when we first met,” I reminded him cheekily, enjoying the way his ears grew red. “Should I do a reenactment?”

“That’s not necessary,” Chan said, quickly dismissing the topic. “Did you hear back from your interview?”

“Oh I did,” I said. “They want me to come in and meet the CEO.”

“What for?” Chan scoffed, returning back to his meal.

“Well, I am taking on the secretary position,” I said. “Maybe he wants to make sure I have good phone etiquette.”

“Yeah?” Chan grumbled. “Or, he wants to make sure you look pretty for him so he has something nice to look at all day.”

“And what’s wrong with that?” I asked him because I loved it when Chan got possessive.

“I don’t want some rich bastard drooling over my wife,” Chan said, chopsticks clenched tightly between his fingers.

“Yeah? Well, it works both ways, you know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh come on, Chan,” I sighed. “Your superintendent was totally flirting with you.”

Chan put down his chopsticks, eyeing me cluelessly. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Yes, she was,” I immediately countered, reaching down for my purse. “I watched her the entire time.”

“Were you spying on me?” Chan asked with a smirk.

“Minho’s probably waiting for me,” I replied instead, smoothing down my skirt as I stood up from the table.

“Don’t you think that’s too short?” Chan asked, pointing at my lower section as if personally offended.

“Work hard, honey,” I grinned, leaning over the table to peck him once on the lips, offering a cheeky wave on my way out the door.

My palms were sweaty and, despite my repeated attempts to wipe off the nasty residue on my skirt, the condition persisted. Hyperhidrosis, Chan might tell me, nerdy glasses falling down his nose. I grinned at a distant memory, one of the first dates I ever had with Chan. A younger, less confident version of my husband, frantically peeling his suit jacket from his body, complaining about the heat in the restaurant, only to cower moments later when he realized his armpits were totally drenched.

“Mrs. Bang?”

I looked up at the young man bowing in front of me. “Mr. Seo will see you now.”

I nodded, holding my tongue before I let the intern know that he sounded just like a passage from Fifty Shades of Gray. Oh, shit, what if I was about to meet Christian Gray in the flesh? Some sort of young, hot billionaire with the world at his feet, buying up other companies like they meant absolutely nothing.

It was a believable scenario, and I don’t know how I managed to get my feet to work, but I followed the intern with exaggerated steps. “The boss has been looking forward to this,” the intern told me, pausing outside the office door.

“He has?” I wondered, glancing around the grandiose lobby. Did I really make that much of an impression?

“You can go in now,” the intern smiled, politely holding the door for me as I wordlessly walked inside.

Of course, I was expecting something extravagant, considering the layout of the lobby, but I was still deeply impressed by the spacious, but oddly cozy interior. Could you really call this room an office? Considering how massive it was in size. I mean, was it really necessary to basically live in an apartment when you arrived to work every day? Complete with stylish hardwood floors that looked like something out of an edition of House and Home magazine. I’d bet my entire life’s savings that the CEO hired some kind of fancy architect to design the place because those engravings on the mahogany walls were quite difficult to achieve. “It’s nice isn’t it?” a disarmingly familiar voice asked, and I found the dark figure leaning against the desk in the center of the room, sleeves rolled up to show off his impressive arms. “I was surprised to see your application, Y/N.”

Fuck, Christian Grey would have been way better.

“Changbin?”

He met me halfway across the room, now completely visible beneath the low hanging lights, tan skin washed with a comfortable glow. “Shocked?”

“You could say that,” I said, suddenly feeling like I was 18 again in college, lusting after the object of my affections.

“Have a seat,” Changbin offered kindly, extending his arm towards the matching armchairs neatly tucked around the electric fireplace.

“Okay,” I nodded, unable to take my eyes off Seo Changbin as I stumbled over my heels like a complete lovestruck teenager meeting her musician idol for the very first time.

But, holy fuck, Changbin looked good. Why the hell did he not age or turn prematurely gray? I held back a whimper, eyes looking everywhere around the room except at Seo Changbin. How did I not put two and two together when I first got the notification for the Secretary position at Seo Enterprises? I mean, what are the chances that this Seo is my Seo...Or, at least, he used to be my Seo. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said, flipping through my file with lazy movements. Where did he get those pants from? They fit him sinfully good, hugging his thighs and if I look close enough, the outline of his...“How are you?”

I startled at the question, drawing my eyes up to meet Changbin’s familiar gaze. “Oh, I’m uh..” I trailed off anxiously, trying to put meaningful words together because he was making the English language harder than it needed to be. “I’ve been alright.”

Changbin smiled and I crossed my legs because that kind of smile could literally drench a girl if he wasn’t careful. “I was really happy to see your name on my list.”

“Were you?” I asked, fingers digging into the cushion of my chair.

“I’m always happy to see a familiar face,” Changbin said. “It’s been a while.”

“College,” I choked out, completely out of mind with anxiety, like the time Minho stole my phone and made me think someone had stolen it, even encouraging me to call the number only for him to hang up every time.

“You’re still beautiful.”

“Changbin...”

“I know,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s all in the past.”

“That’s right,” I said, wondering if now would be an appropriate time to snatch my resume out of Changbin’s veiny hands and flee the premises.

“And you’ve married Bang,” Changbin said, pointing to my wedding band. “Which isn’t surprising.”

“Five years,” I said, trying my best to think about Chan and only Chan despite the literal embodiment of my every erotic high school fantasy sitting right in front of me.

“This would be strictly professional,” Changbin said, holding up my resume. “You were our best applicant, but I thought you should know everything about this place before taking the position. Including me.”

“Is that so?” was all I could think to say in return to his unexpectedly thoughtful comment.

Changbin lowered my resume slowly. “The job is yours, Y/N.”

“I’d still have to talk to Chan first,” I said because there’s no way I could just start working for Changbin without Chan knowing everything about the situation. Unfortunately, I could just about anticipate Chan’s response.

“That’s fine,” Changbin agreed. “You can call us tomorrow.”

I allowed a shaky nod, wondering if Changbin knew how much of an effect he still had on me all these years later.

Chan might be one of the smartest men I know, but he was, at his core, just a man who was quite whipped for his wife. Like all men, he was a sucker for lingerie, which is why I slipped on my best matching set, squeezing myself in the little black dress that I knew he really loved. 

The hem barely touched the middle of my thighs.

I was also cooking his favorite meal, the smell filling the kitchen pleasantly as I stood at the stove. My plan was quite simple: dress pretty for Chan and surprise him with his favorite food to soften him up. Maybe then he wouldn’t have a complete meltdown when I broke the news to him about my newest employer. 

But I still shivered when I heard the door open. “Y/N!”

“I’m in the kitchen,” I called back to him, attempting several meditative breaths to try and keep myself together.

“Holy shit,” he cursed, freezing in the doorway as he undoubtedly took in the sight of his wife wrapped in a tight black number.

“I’m making dinner,” I said, flashing him an arrogant smile, amused by the way he openly gaped at me while still wearing his oversized doctor’s coat. A result of an excited, freshly employed Chan filling out his form request with sloppy handwriting.

“You look hot,” Chan told me bluntly, eyes glued to my body as he eliminated the space between us with a few quick-paced steps.

“I got the job,” I said, letting out a nervous giggle as I continued to push around the searing bulgogi with a shaky hand. “Consider this a celebration.”

“That’s great, sweetie,” Chan said, standing behind me to wrap his arms around my middle, pressing soft kisses to the back of my neck, roaming hands feeling my body. “I guess the CEO liked you.”

A hellish double entendre. “Yeah, he was really nice.”

“I’m glad it worked out,” Chan said, voice next to my ear. “I didn’t want you to feel pressured to get a job or anything. I’m proud of you no matter what.”

Was it his intention to make me feel guilty? “Channie,” I sighed, turning around in his arms. “I have to tell you something.”

Chan cocked a brow. “What is it?”

“The company I’m working for...” 

“Yeah?”

“The CEO is someone we know.”

“Is that it?” Chan chuckled, accent thick as those adorable dimples filled out his smile. “Who is it, babe?”

“He used to go to school with us,” I tried, hoping that maybe Chan could just learn how to read my mind and save me the effort of mustering some kind of courage.

“Minho?” Chan teased.

“We’re not exactly friendly with him,” I said.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but I’m not exactly friendly with Minho.”

“You jerk,” I huffed, half-heartedly pushing against his chest. “You really, really don’t like this person.”

“There aren’t many people I really, really don’t like,” Chan said. “Come on, Y/N, just tell me who it is. Are you afraid I’ll be upset with you?”

I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

Chan’s smile vanished in a minute. “Y/N.”

“Seo Enterprises,” I said. “The company name.”

Realization dawned across Chan’s face. “Are you saying...”

“Changbin,” I murmured, looking down at my feet. “He’s my new boss.”

Chan let out a rough exhale because he knew exactly who Seo Changbin was and I’m pretty sure he associated the name with deep hatred. “Are you fucking serious?”

I winced at Chan’s tone because he had quickly shifted from sweet, caring husband to angry, sinister Mr. Bang in the blink of an eye. “Yes?”

“The Seo Changbin,” Chan reiterated. “The guy you fucked for like six months Freshman year?”

“That would be the one,” I said, forcing myself to meet his gaze before immediately regretting the decision.

“Why the hell would you take a job as his Secretary?” Chan demanded, crossing his arms over his chest. Normally, I would admire the sight of Chan’s arms stretching the thin fabric of his t-shirt, but now I was just intimidated.

“Because I really wanted the job,” I said. “And I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Oh, it’s a huge fucking deal,” Chan said, glaring down at me. “You think I’m okay with the idea of you working for someone you once told me you were, and I quote, definitely gonna marry?”

“But I’m married to you,” I tried, attempting a sugary-sweet tone that usually broke Chan’s resolve.

Except for tonight.

“Yeah,” Chan nodded, “You are, and I told you I would take care of you. I have enough money to support both of us, you don’t need to work at all.”

“Chan, you know I’m not comfortable sitting at home,” I said.

“I get that, Y/N, but Seo Changbin? I could get you a Secretary job at the hospital.”

“Channie, this is a position at Seo Enterprises. One of their biggest assets is New York Publishers! It’s like the perfect opportunity to get my foot in the door.”

“Y/N,” Chan groaned. “I can’t stand the thought of you working for Changbin under any circumstances.”

“I get it, Chan,” I said. “But it’s different than college. I’m married now, and Changbin is nothing more than my boss.”

“Does he really get that?” Chan asked. “I’m putting my foot down, Y/N. I don’t want you working for him, okay? You can call them tomorrow and say you’ve got something better.”

“But Channie!”

“No, Y/N,” Chan growled. “You can look for something else.”

I frowned once I realized Chan wasn’t going to back down. It didn’t matter that I wanted the job or that I had dressed up and cooked for him. For the first time since we met, Chan was refusing to give me what I wanted. “Chan, you really don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

“I’m your husband,” Chan said, justifying his unfair demands with such patriarchal reasoning. 

“Fine,” I muttered darkly, ignoring the way his hand reached out for mine.

“Don’t be this way,” Chan said, following me as I marched to our bedroom, slamming the door closed behind me. “Y/N!” Chan shouted against the door, knocking loudly on the wood. “This is my room too!”

“Not tonight,” I informed him tersely, opening the door only to harshly shove a spare blanket and pillow at his chest. “Goodnight, darling.”

“This is Y/N,” I said into the phone. “I’m calling about-”

“One moment, Mrs. Bang, we can transfer you to Mr. Seo right away.”

“But you don’t understand...”

“Hello?”

“Changbin!” I squealed loudly into the phone, wincing at my shrill tone. 

“Y/N,” Changbin said pleasantly, voice as deep and gravelly as I remembered. “Is this the phone call I’ve been waiting for?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, making myself comfortable at the kitchen counter since I was a notorious pacer when it came to difficult conversations. “It depends on what you’re expecting.”

“I’m expecting to hear a confirmation,” Changbin said. “This is a perfect position for someone with your qualifications.”

“I know,” I groaned. “But I’m calling because I can’t take the job.”

“Really?” Changbin asked. “Can I ask why?”

“Chan isn’t comfortable with the idea,” I said.

“Is that so?” Changbin inquired, innocently enough. “I hope it isn’t because of college.”

“T-that’s not entirely why,” I stuttered because Changbin was apparently intuitive now that he owned some big, fancy company.

“I hope not,” Changbin said. “It wouldn’t be fair of Chan to keep you from a potential opportunity because of something like that.”

“It’s just a lot right now,” I said. “I haven’t had a job in a year. My last position was really good, but the company went bankrupt and I was laid off, so I’m just trying to be careful.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about anything like that here, Y/N,” Changbin said. “This is a great opportunity for someone looking for a fresh start.”

Did he read my Facebook bio?

“I’m sure it is, Changbin, but I can’t do something that would make Chan uncomfortable.”

“But he’s not the one taking the position,” Changbin pointed out. “I can assure you, Y/N, you won’t find another position like this.”

“God, you’re good at negotiating.”

“Take the job, Y/N. I promise you won’t regret it.”

I could blame it on my desperation later, but I actually really liked the position. It promised a lot, especially considering the publishing company attached to Seo Enterprises. That would be my ultimate goal, to spend my days reading promising manuscripts while sipping expensive Starbucks coffee.

“I guess I can’t say no.”

“Then I’ll see you on Monday.”

Message to Channie

I took the job. I’m sorry but the opportunity was hard to pass up.

It only took a few seconds for Chan’s contact name to flash across my screen with an incoming call. I muted the sound like a coward, ignoring him completely while I started the ignition to the Corvette. A one-year anniversary present from Chan who was somehow more excited than I was when he first handed me the car key.

I drove to Minho’s apartment because I didn’t want to go home and I really had nowhere else to go. Plus, at least Minho was a reliable friend who really didn’t care if I crashed on his couch while he shoved cheap wine down my throat. In fact, Minho might be glad to see me since he was constantly complaining about his new hours at the shop.

“You look like shit,” Minho commented when he answered the door, standing aside to invite me inside. I shrugged off my coat, tossing it against the wall before slumping down onto the cheap sofa in Minho’s living room. The only piece of furniture he could afford in his ridiculously small New York apartment. “What happened?”

“I took the job with Changbin.”

Minho’s eyes widened in surprise. “You did? I can only assume Chan is lying somewhere on his deathbed.”

“No,” I snorted. “I took the job even though Chan asked me not to.”

“Savage,” Minho exhaled and I rolled my eyes at him.

“It’s a great opportunity!”

“When do you start?” Minho asked, feet propped up in my lap as he made himself more than comfortable next to me.

“Monday morning,” I said, mindlessly taking the remote to scroll through his limited TV channels. 

“And Chan is mad?” Minho repeated, glancing at me for confirmation. “Can you really blame him though?”

“Why?” I frowned.

“I mean, Chan’s been in love with you since high school. He used to trail after you all the time, but you only talked about Seo Changbin.”

“You’re not being a good friend right now,” I said, remembering with perfect clarity the image of a sixteen-year-old Chan, hair untamed and clothes mismatched. Chan was a constant presence in my life, even if I preened after another boy who certainly had no intention of remaining faithful.

“Go home to him, Y/N,” Minho said with far more seriousness than I was used to hearing from my still immature best friend. The same Minho who couldn’t find work for an entire year after graduation because he was too busy sleeping with any woman that walked on two legs, living with various girlfriends while slowly draining his savings account.

“Since when are you the voice of reason?” I grumbled.

“Well, we all have to grow up one day.”

I hated the rare occasions when he was right.

The house was eerily silent when I unlocked the door, spotlessly clean just as I had left it which made me feel bad because it meant Chan didn’t even try to eat anything. “You always make me worry,” I muttered, toeing off my shoes as I decided to check the bedroom. 

When Chan had first bought the house, he wanted it to look as close as possible to the random design I had pointed out at the local fair when we were Sophomore students. The plaque had deemed it the “house of the future” and I was enamored with the idea of the future back when my whole life was waiting right in front of me. A big dreamer who was already making wedding plans the moment Chan got down on one knee and proposed with his mother’s wedding ring.

“Channie,” I whispered into the darkness, cautiously tiptoeing my way to the side of the bed where Chan was facing away from me, sheets tucked in around his waist to leave his chest exposed. “I’m sorry.”

Chan let out a sigh. “What are you sorry for, Y/N?”

“I hurt you,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “I took the job with Changbin and I didn’t think about how it would affect you.”

“I fucking hate him,” Chan said, tone bitter and laced with venom. “I hate what he did to you Freshman year and I hate that he was the first person you loved.”

“Chan,” I sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I was really young and stupid back then. I should have never slept with Changbin. But he was just a fantasy, even when we were together, and I certainly never really loved him.” I leaned in closer, brushing his hair away from his forehead. “I’ve always loved you first. You mean the world to me and I’m sorry that I went behind your back to work for Changbin. But he’s definitely nothing more than a mistake from a past full of them. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Chan shifted from next to me, rolling onto his back. His eyes were looking at me like I was literally his entire world. “I’ll always worry, sweetie. You drive me insane these days.”

I grinned at the use of his pet name for me, reaching out to run a soothing hand along the defined lines of his stomach. “Don’t worry about me, darling, when you’re the one with a supermodel for a boss.”

“Fuck, we’re both screwed,” Chan said. “Does she drive you mad with jealousy?”

“Of course she does,” I said. “She has bigger tits than me.”

“Well, I like your tits,” Chan insisted. “Don’t even think about bringing up plastic surgery again.”

“It would be to your benefit,” I pointed out. 

“And the detriment to my savings account. Plus, I don’t want some old bastard fondling your tits while he pumps silicone in your chest.”

“Of all the things to worry about,” I sighed. “Does this mean we’re okay again?”

“You could probably step on me and I would still thank you for it, sweetie.”

“What if I sit on it instead?” I asked, moving my hand down to squeeze his flaccid cock.

“Makeup sex?” Chan gasped. “You don’t have to sell yourself out like this, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, I want to,” I said while proceeding to straddle his waist, smirking when Chan’s hands instantly moved to my hips. It was almost like a magnet, the reaction automatic after years of marriage. “You’re already hard,” I teased, reaching back to palm him over the sheets. 

Chan always slept in boxers which I certainly appreciated because it made the rare nights of our passionate lovemaking even more accessible. Chan lifted my shirt, groaning low when he saw that I was wearing nothing but a pair of satin panties. “This is why I’m already hard.”

“You don’t see me walking around the house in underwear,” I quipped playfully.

“It’s comfortable,” Chan whimpered, moaning when my hand found the smooth velvety head of his cock. 

“Something you never did when we were dating,” I said. “I spent weekends with you in the apartment.”

“Wanted to make a good impression,” Chan grumbled, eyes closed as he rolled his hips in time with my careful strokes. 

“So you don’t have to impress me anymore,” I said, glancing back at his cock, hot and heavy in my hand. “But I guess you still do.”

Chan moaned even louder at my words, fingers tightening in my wrinkled shirt. “Don’t make me cum yet.”

“Why not, darling?” I asked him cheekily, twisting my wrist just right, watching as a stuttered gasp fell from between his gorgeous pout.

“Wanna cum inside,” he said, biceps straining as he pulled me closer, kissing me with a desperation that only demonstrated just how gone he really was.

“Yeah?” I smirked, tongue tracing the ridges of his full lips. “I guess you deserve it after putting up with my bullshit all day.”

Chan nodded fervently and the sight was oddly endearing. It reminded me of when Chan and I first met in high school, a nerdy sixteen-year-old boy who had just transferred schools all the way from Australia. He had a thick accent, foreign and rich, just like the untamed mass of curls covering his deep brown eyes. Chan wore thick-rimmed glasses and he had a light dusting of freckles like the main character from Freckle Juice, one of my favorite childhood novels. He was nerdy and shy, sitting alone in the cafeteria at lunch and walking between classes with his shoulders hunched like he was afraid one of those horrible jocks would try to steal his bag again.

“Y/N!” he whined loudly, forcing me out of the memory.

“Alright, Channie, you want inside?”

I sat up on my knees to work down my panties, ignoring the way Chan’s fingers tried to interfere, pulling at the fabric like he could possibly make them disappear any faster. I grabbed the hem of his boxer shorts, teasingly pulling them down his thighs before brushing a kiss across the weeping tip of his cock, precum bitter on my tongue. For a moment, I admired his thick erection, remembering how nervous Chan was the very first time we had sex back before we were even old enough to drink alcohol.

I held his cock as I positioned myself over his lap. “I’ll do all the work tonight,” I said, listening to Chan’s sweet moans the entire time I slowly lowered myself onto his cock, enjoying the way he always filled me so deeply.

“Oh yeah, sweetie,” Chan grunted, hips moving messily as he tried to find a rhythm. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

 “Really?” I asked, swallowing down a moan when Chan hit just right, movements growing more and more confident as I returned every thrust. “I thought I was in charge tonight.”

Chan’s hands gripped my waist firmly, eyes wide open as he focused on where we were connected. “I’m always in charge.”

“Definitely,” I said, bracing my hands against his firm chest for balance because I was weak for this version of Chan. A complete contradiction to the one I first started dating, sweetly doting as he did everything in his power to make me happy. An image of a beautifully innocent Chan looking up from his position between my thighs. “It’s good?”

“So good,” I whispered aloud, peppering kisses across the pale expanse of Chan’s creamy skin, laving my tongue against a sensitive nipple which forced a temporary break from his regular tempo.

“Don’t play dirty, sweetie,” Chan said, giving me no warning before he was pushing me onto my back, hovering over me with his irresistible bedroom eyes. His hands spread my thighs wide, giving himself more room to fuck inside, movements growing faster with every step closer to what was beginning to feel like an intense orgasm. I’m talking about the kind that I could feel between my legs for days after I tried to walk straight again. “Do I need to touch you?”

“Fuck, I think you’re doing just fine,” I said. “Where the hell did this come from?”

“You woke up my competitive side,” Chan said, hitting deep like we were suddenly 20-years-old again sneaking quickies between lectures. Back then, Chan could literally fuck me against a wall, my legs wrapped around his gorgeous hips while he knocked the breath out of my lungs. Thank god, Chan decided that college would be his glory years, working out aggressively in the gym until he had muscles filling out the places where he had previously been soft. But I would always miss his pudgy stomach, even if his ass was now something out of a porn magazine. 

“Well fuck,” I moaned. “I’ll have to do this more often.”

“I’d do it all the time if I wasn’t working until 3 in the morning at the hospital,” Chan said.

“Good point, should I come in at lunch then? You can lock us in one of the empty rooms.”

“Oh shit, sweetie, you shouldn’t talk that way,” Chan growled and it was one of the sexiest sounds I had ever heard.

“I’m close,” I warned him, digging my fingers in his scalp as his teeth teased against my collarbone.

“Me too,” he said, breaths uneven as he punctuated his words with a series of harsh ruts that sent my eyes rolling into the back of my skull. His fingers found my clit, thumb pressing down hard enough to trigger one of the best orgasms I had experienced in a long time.

I tightened around his stuttering cock, moaning when I could feel his cum deep inside, warm and wet. “Shit, you’re so good at that.”

Chan pulled out slowly, eyes growing wide at the sight of his cum leaking down my ass. “Left a fucking mess though.”

“We can shower later,” I said, grabbing his arm to encourage him to lie down next to me, burying my face against his chest, scarlet-red from the exertion.

“Was the dick that good?” Chan teased, running his fingers soothingly along my spine.

“Your dick is that good,” I replied. “The genetics are strong.”

“I’ll be sure to tell my parents,” Chan said, giggling as I shot him a warning glare. “I love you, sweetie.”

“Mmm, I love you more.”

1 Week Later

Lee Felix is the spawn of the devil and nobody could convince me otherwise. Because ever since we first met, when Chan invited me over to his house for a project, Felix had decided that I was his number one enemy, deeming me “Medusa” because he was enamored with Greek Mythology. But the unfortunate nickname had stuck throughout the years, even when Felix visited our college between breaks, forcing me to sleep on the couch while he shared the bed with his step-brother. 

Recently, Felix had just finished his Master’s program for some kind of fancy Philosophy degree that would probably do him absolutely no good in the real world. But Chan was proud of his baby brother, inviting him to stay with us after graduation until Felix could stand on his own two feet. The decision was met by my instantaneous protest leading to an argument that I inevitably lost because Chan was still using Changbin as a winning point. However, even before my employment with Seo Enterprises, Felix was the cause of at least 95% of our arguments and I was not exaggerating in the slightest.

The sound of the doorbell ringing was suddenly a lot louder than I remember. “Death is here,” I said solemnly, ignoring the way Chan scoffed at my claim. I followed behind him somberly as he opened the door, letting out an excited cheer when he saw Felix waiting on the other side. Felix dropped his bag and practically screamed, which would likely wake up the entire neighborhood, jumping into his brother’s arm as the two embraced right in the middle of my foyer. 

“Could you be any louder?” I snarled at the younger Bang. 

“Maybe I could, Medusa,” Felix shot back, eyes narrowed as he picked up his bag. 

“Come on, Felix,” Chan said, nodding at the kitchen. “I bet you’re hungry.”

Felix nodded, putting on his best smile for his ignorant brother, shoving his bag harshly at my chest as he walked by. “You can take care of that for me, right Medusa?”

“You little bitch,” I muttered, meeting his glare with one of my own.

The only thing worse than going out with Felix was including Han Jisung in the equation. For whatever reason, Jisung and Felix always riled each other up, chugging down alcohol like it was fucking water or something. However, Felix wanted to see Jisung again and Chan never said no to his little brother. This is why I was currently seated next to Chan at a cheesy bar in downtown Harlem, listening to Felix and Jisung try to talk over one another as Chan looked on with fond eyes. The only good part of the night was the fact that even Chan had allowed himself to get a little tipsy which meant he was doing his absolute best to feel me up in public. I always found it amusing, knocking his hand away when his eager fingers started to trail up my skirt.

“Felix,” Jisung whined. “How can you say that?”

“Oi, there’s no way you can put Nickleback and Green Day in the same fucking category.”

I rolled my eyes at the stupid argument, smacking Chan’s hand when he started to finger the waistband of my skirt. “Chan!” Jisung pouted. “Tell him that he’s wrong.”

“Tell the philosophy major that he’s wrong?” Chan asked, accent on full display as he reached out to playfully ruffle Felix’s hair. “You can’t even answer the phone at the receptionist’s desk.”

Felix loved the attention and I hated it when he came over only to occupy Chan’s every waking hour with his never-ending thirst for affection. But I wasn’t going to let him get away with it tonight. I cleared my throat, stretching my arms back behind my head because I knew how good it would make my breasts look in the rather low-cut shirt I had chosen for tonight’s affair. I glanced over at Chan, smiling victoriously when I saw the way his eyes had glued themselves to my chest. Even Han Jisung was looking, which would normally annoy me to no end, but I was putting on my best behavior tonight. “Chan!” Felix shouted, trying to regain his brother’s attention. “Did you hear that I scored the highest honors on my research project?”

And just like that, Chan’s attention was redirected to Satan, eyes glowing with pride. “That’s amazing, Felix!”

“I can tell you all about it,” Felix said arrogantly, tossing me a cocky smile which left me absolutely incensed. “The board was so impressed, they offered to publish my results in the University’s magazine.”

“Are you serious, Felix?” Jisung asked which was an even bigger blow because the only two things occupying Jisung’s thoughts were women and alcohol. 

So I decided to push my luck, tugging down my skirt before shifting over in the booth to plant myself directly on Chan’s lap, wrapping my arms around his neck before nuzzling into his warm chest. “Channie,” I cooed while glaring at Felix from the corner of my eye. 

“Do you want something, sweetie?” Chan asked, smile blinding as one hand wrapped around my waist, leaving the other to tease the bare skin of my thighs. 

I reached for Chan’s beer, shoving the glass at him because nothing made Chan hornier than thighs and alcohol. “Should I come to see you at work tomorrow? Like we talked about before?”

Chan’s eyes lit with recognition and I smirked victoriously when I felt him grow hard in his tight jeans. “I’d really like that.”

And to seal my victory, I leaned forward to kiss my intoxicated husband, ignoring the sloppy way he reciprocated, breath musty with the taste of beer. Felix growled lowly from across the booth and Jisung let out a wolf whistle at our blatant display. But I was on cloud nine, satisfied to have won Chan’s attention because it meant Felix was going to be quite unhappy for the rest of the night.

“Medusa, aren’t you going to make me breakfast?”

I groaned as I glanced over at the alarm clock which informed me that it was only 9:00 AM. “Fuck, Felix, go back to sleep.”

“But I’m hungry,” he whined, reaching across the bed to tug on my arm.

“It’s Saturday,” I hissed, barely clinging to the wonderful promise of more sleep which would do wonders for my hungover state.

“Chan wouldn’t be happy with you,” Felix reminded me. “Should I call him at work?”

“Get out of here you little maggot,” I snapped. “I’ll fix you some damn breakfast.”

“Now!” Felix ordered like he had every right to make demands of me, but I didn’t want Felix to say anything to Chan because that would only lead to another needless argument. 

“You’re a fucking menace,” I said, throwing off my bedsheets while briefly mourning the loss of my precious sleep. But I don’t want anyone to ever say that I was a bad wife, especially when I put up with Lee Felix just to make Chan happy. 

Felix was already seated at the counter when I finally drug myself out of my bedroom, groggily reaching for a clean pan from the cabinet. “You get eggs and bacon,” I told him. “I’m not a gourmet chef.”

“Whatever,” Felix said, ignoring me completely in exchange for his cell phone. Which Chan was now paying for to help “lessen Felix’s financial burden.” 

“Chan,” I remember telling him. “You’ll spoil him if you keep doing things like that. He’ll never want to leave!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Chan had shot back as if the idea of living with his younger brother for the rest of our married life was perfectly acceptable.

“A million things,” I muttered now, cracking one of the eggs against the side of the pan. 

“I hear you’re working for Seo Changbin,” Felix abruptly spoke up, and I could practically feel his eyes on me. “He cheated on you, right?”

“It’s really none of your business,” I informed him brusquely, grabbing a spatula while wondering if I could teach Felix a lesson if I hit him a few times.

“My brother isn’t happy,” Felix continued as if my warning meant nothing to him. Probably because it didn’t. “I think it’s a bad idea, but your satisfaction always comes first, right?”

“Why the fuck did Chan tell you this?” I gritted out while aggressively slamming the fridge closed, pack of bacon gripped tightly in my hand.

“He tells me everything,” Felix said smartly. “Because he trusts me.”

“Good for you,” I huffed over my shoulder. “I’m glad you have such a close relationship with your brother.”

“Jealous?” Felix taunted, expression smug when I roughly placed down a glass in front of him.

“Is orange juice, okay?” I asked him in a faux sweet voice.

“It’s fine,” Felix shrugged. “But whatever is most inconvenient for you.”

“What a sweet little boy you are,” I said, pouring him a generous amount. “How long do you plan on staying here?”

“Chan says I can stay for as long as I want,” Felix said, narrowing his eyes. “You don’t have a problem with that, do you?”

“Of course not,” I muttered. “Two Bangs are better than one.”

“That’s right,” Felix said brightly, taking a sip from his glass. “Ugh, does this have pulp in it?”

“Drink your fucking orange juice, Felix!”

The invention of video games was a godsend because they could occupy Felix’s attention for hours, leaving me in relative peace as I tried not to let him destroy every last bit of my resolve. I was currently having a bath alone in the sanctity of my bathroom, shoulder-deep in soothing bath salts which I kept well-stocked in the cabinet underneath the sink. The aroma was pleasant, sending me to a place somewhere far away to where Felix’s were strictly prohibited.

For the entirety of the day, Felix had been doing his best to get on my nerves. I cooked him breakfast and lunch, cleaned his disgusting laundry, and even held my tongue when he requested I drive him to the mattress store because the guest bedroom was unsatisfactory. But it had always been like this between us, ever since the day I first met Felix and tried my best to make a good impression. Unfortunately, Felix idolized his older brother, deeming any girl unworthy of his time and efforts, including myself. Of course, above anyone else, Felix thought I was the worst possible choice, reminding me every second that his brother deserved someone smarter, richer, and prettier. 

Suddenly, my phone vibrated loudly on the edge of the bathtub and I hesitantly glanced at the screen, half-expecting to see Felix’s name displayed like a caution sign. Surprisingly, it was Chan who had sent me a message to ask where I was, which meant Felix had lied through his teeth and said I’d gone somewhere. 

To Channie

Bathroom.

It was only a moment or two later when the door opened and Chan stuck his head inside, offering me a pleasant smile as he locked the door behind him. “You’re home early,” I remarked, vacantly staring up at the ceiling.

“It’s Saturday night,” Chan reminded me. “I thought the three of us could go out to eat.”

I groaned in protest. “What about takeout?”

“You love going out,” Chan said. “I’ll even let you pick the restaurant.”

“I have way too many problems right now,” I said. “I’m avoiding them by staying in the water for as long as I can.”

“Sweetie,” Chan said, taking a step closer. “You should’ve waited for me.”

“Why?” I asked him airily. “You’re one of those problems.”

“Me?” Chan asked, choosing to sit down on the edge of the tub. “What did I do wrong?”

“No arguments tonight,” I said, letting out a deep sigh. “This is the most relaxed I’ve been all day.”

“Aren’t you being overdramatic?” Chan asked, reaching down to flick a trail of water in my direction. “I was in surgery for 6 hours today.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve dealt with Felix since 9 this morning.”

“Ah,” Chan sighed. “I figured it had something to do with my brother.”

“Just forget it,” I whined. “You know we don’t get along.”

“I do know that,” Chan said. “But I wish you both made a better effort. We’re family after all.”

I shivered at the idea of Felix belonging to any family of mine. “You can keep him on your side, then. I grew up as an only child, look at how much better I turned out for it.”

“You told me you had imaginary friends growing up because you were so lonely,” Chan teased.

“Asshole,” I muttered. “That’s sensitive information that I told you in confidentiality. You should know all about patient-doctor confidentiality. Didn’t you have a whole lecture on it?”

“Y/N,” Chan lightly chastised, reaching for a towel on the rack next to the counter. “Get dressed, we’re leaving in an hour.”

“You’ve condemned me to death,” I complained, watching through lidded eyes as he stretched out his arms.

“I’m serious, Y/N, at least try to get along for my sake.”

“That’s all I ever do,” I muttered to his retreating form.

Hwang Hyunjin is a willing accomplice to the devil himself who never misses an opportunity to throw out some lascivious comments about my appearance. He was Felix’s best friend and partner in crime, sharing his goal of making my life as miserable as possible. He was also coming out to eat with us tonight and no matter how much I whined to Chan, he remained adamant that Felix should spend some time with his friends. “He’s only young once,” Chan told me, ignoring the way I glared at him with every ounce of hostility that I could muster.

“Did you paint those pants on, Y/N?” Hyunjin asked the minute he sat down in the backseat next to Felix.

“I did, actually, thanks for the unnecessary observation,” I told him shortly, still focused on the staring contest I was having with Felix in the rearview mirror.

“Don’t mind her, she’s probably on her period,” Felix said and I took in a deep breath because I was very close to turning around in my seat to choke the life out of Felix’s pencil neck.

“How have you been, Hyunjin?” Chan asked, one hand on the steering wheel as he calmly navigated us through the permanent traffic of New York.

“I applied for a job with Amazon,” Hyunjin replied. “I don’t wanna brag, but I definitely nailed the interview.”

“Yeah right,” I muttered under my breath. Hyunjin had the worst people skills in the history of mankind. He was almost as incompetent as Han Jisung, but ten times worse because of his sarcastic attitude.

“You’ll get me Amazon Prime for free, right bro?” Felix giggled and I resisted the urge to mock the sound.

“I’m proud of you, Hyunjin,” Chan said. “I know you worked hard.”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Hyunjin said. “But the chick who interviewed me was really hot and I think I appropriately swept her off her feet.”

“Big tits?” Felix asked because that’s all those stupid boys cared about.

“Of course,” Hyunjin said. “But I’m still waiting for you, Y/N, whenever you’re ready.”

Felix scoffed. “You could do better than Medusa.”

“How about some music?” I snapped loudly, reaching down for the radio knob to block out the sounds of Felix and Hyunjin’s voices.

Monday mornings were the worst thing to ever happen to mankind next to Lee Felix. I was sipping at my morning coffee, cold now because Felix had spent way too much time ordering me around the kitchen before I left home. But it was better than nothing and I desperately needed caffeine to get through the day. “Morning, Y/N,” Changbin greeted me smoothly, suit well-pressed and fitted to hug his arms and thighs just right.

“Sure,” I said in reply, trudging to my chair in slow motion. 

“Are you always this lively in the mornings?” Changbin remarked, leaning against my desk as he looked through his mail.

“Just on Mondays,” I said, booting up my computer so that I could answer the dozens of emails likely waiting for me, most of which would come from annoying sponsors who wanted Changbin to be on their dumb podcast. 

“Well, you still look gorgeous,” Changbin said.

My cheeks flushed at his comment. “You still need to call Mr. Kim back, he’s left another voicemail.”

“Just one call?” Changbin smirked, eyes dancing dangerously. “Have you been scaring everyone off, Y/N?”

“I did just as you asked, sir.”

“You don’t have to call me sir,” Changbin chuckled, carefully engrossed in his cell phone now as he graciously returned to his own office.

I shivered as I glanced at my computer screen. Changbin was still as notoriously flirtatious as he had been when we were younger. In fact, it might be worse now that he had finally grown into his sharper features which made him look ridiculously attractive. “I love Chan, I love Chan,” I quietly repeated to myself, even as a distant memory suddenly forced itself back into consciousness.

An 18-year-old Seo Changbin walking inside my lecture hall wearing a dark button-up tucked into the tightest pair of skinny jeans he probably owned. Every eye in that lecture room had suddenly turned to him because he was an irresistible force, impossible to ignore. “Y/N?” 

Be cool Y/N, I softly chastised myself as I offered him a friendly smile. “Hi, Changbin.”

It was purely coincidental that Changbin had ended up at the same University as me, but that didn’t stop my fragile teenage heart from declaring it as something akin to fate. “It’s been a while,” Changbin said, pulling out the chair next to mine.

I swallowed hard because my mouth was as dry as a desert. “I didn’t know you were enrolled here.”

“It was my first pick,” Changbin said. “My father is an alumnus.”

“Really?” I asked, ignoring the arrival of the professor in exchange for mapping out every single one of Changbin’s gorgeous features.

“This class is just for gen ed,” Changbin said, pushing a hand through his neatly styled black hair.

“Oh, same for me,” I nodded. “I heard it was pretty easy.”

“Is that right?” Changbin asked while flashing me an award-winning smile. Roll out the red carpets because this boy was cool enough to be in an action film co-starring Tom Holland and Ancel Elgort.

But what were we talking about? “I’m majoring in English.”

“Political Science,” Changbin returned. “And Business.”

I deflated a little because, in comparison to my lousy arts degree, Changbin seemed like a certified genius. He would be educated in the art of entrepreneurship and big money while I struggled to comprehend the meaning of Great Expectations. “Have you met anyone else from high school?”

“Not yet,” Changbin said. “What about you?”

“Well, Bang Chan’s enrolled here too...” I started, only to trail off when I realized that Changbin probably had no idea who Chan was since he never paid attention to him in high school. Actually, Changbin would have been more likely to join the football jocks who liked to steal Chan’s stuff only to tie his underwear to the flagpole outside the gym.

“The nerdy Australian kid?” Changbin chuckled. “That sucks.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage since Changbin obviously didn’t know that Chan and I were friends. 

“You don’t hang out with him, do you?” Changbin asked, peering at me closely like I was seconds away from losing the honor of his company.

“We have lunch sometimes,” I said, which was only partially true since I did like to meet up with Chan in the dining hall around 2:00 because it was never crowded. But Changbin didn’t need to know that I had spent the night in Chan’s apartment listening to him record one of his mixtapes because Chan had a newfound interest in music. 

“You could do better,” Changbin sighed. “Hang out with me instead. I’ll treat you to the nicest fast food joint on campus.”

My heart was racing, palms clammy as I nodded my head rapidly. “Lunch?”

“Whatever you want, love,” Changbin said, close proximity knocking every rational thought clean out of my head.

It was like my best fantasy coming to life right before my very eyes, and after our lecture ended I asked Changbin to wait for me while I made a phone call to Chan. “Y/N!” came his cheerful voice from the other end. “Guess who got to dissect a liver today?”

I wrinkled my nose at the nasty image. Chan was studying to enter the medical program which meant a lot of his daily life centered around the human body and all sorts of things that could go wrong with it. “Chan,” I whined. “You’re talking to someone who can’t stand the sight of blood.”

“I know,” Chan sniggered. “Does this mean you’re not gonna want to eat lunch with me today? You know I’ll pay, of course, I got a raise at the cafe.”

“Well,” I started, desperately searching for the right words. “I actually have to meet with my professor for this essay I’ve been having trouble with.”

“No problem,” Chan said. “I’ll bring you takeout for dinner. Doesn’t your roommate have practice tonight?”

I glanced back at Changbin with a guilty conscience. Why did Chan have to be so sweet all the time? “Yeah, that’s fine.”

“No liver talk, I promise,” Chan giggled and I hung up the phone before he could make me feel even worse than I already did.

“You want to get some lunch?” Changbin asked with his hands dug inside his pockets as he stood in front of my desk.

“Like, with me?” I asked warily because I wasn’t sure where the line stood on professionalism when it involves eating with an ex-boyfriend.

“Who else?” Changbin said. “I figured we could use a break from the phone calls.”

“I don’t know...” I answered hesitantly because Chan would probably lose his shit if he discovered I went out anywhere with Changbin.

“It’s not a big deal, Y/N,” Changbin said. “My job is to make sure my employees are well taken care of.”

“I guess,” I sighed, reaching down for my purse on the floor. “One lunch together won’t hurt anything.”

But Changbin seemed awfully smug, patiently waiting for me to gather my belongings, stuffing my phone with an unanswered text from Chan inside my side pocket. It’s almost like the universe was conspiring against me, doing its very best to try and force me into the worst situations possible. Here’s an irrational thought: what if Chan happened to decide to go out for lunch today? He might find me with Changbin and I couldn’t think of a worse scenario. Of course, I suppose it doesn’t necessarily have to be Chan who finds us. For example, if his younger step-brother was to suddenly wander in the building at this very moment...

“Medusa!”

Curse you, universe!

“Felix?” 

“I brought us lunch!” Felix chirped brightly, holding up a picnic basket as he waltzed right up to my desk with far more confidence than necessary.

I blinked my eyes rapidly, unable to process the idea that Felix was standing in the middle of the company’s lobby. “Is it poisoned?” I asked, trying not to alert him to any possible wrongdoing.

Felix ignored me, turning around to face Changbin with a critical gaze. “Seo? Is that you?”

“Felix,” Changbin acknowledged, frowning as if he was the last person on earth he wanted to see, and I could share the sentiment.

“Fuck,” Felix cursed, taking a step back. “You still look really young. I was surprised when Y/N told me you were her new boss.”

“I didn’t tell you that,” I said, opening the flaps of the basket only to let out a disgruntled sigh when I realized he had only brought a bag of chips and a tray of cookies.

“And what are you doing these days?” Changbin asked.

“Freelance work, mostly,” Felix replied as if he really needed to lie to Changbin about his lack of a suitable occupation.

“I forgot what you majored in,” Changbin said. “It was hard to keep up since you changed your concentration like a dozen times.”

I couldn’t hold back my laugh, even when Felix sneered in my direction. “Philosophy.”

“Interesting,” Changbin said, nodding his head. “I’m actually surprised to hear that. You never settled on anything.”

Seo Changbin needed to be careful because his charm points were dramatically increasing the more he mocked my husband’s step-brother. “I actually just finished my Masters.”

“Really?” Changbin said. “This coming from the same boy who used to party with Hwang Hyunjin at all the Fraternities, even if they were on a different campus.”

“It was just Freshman year,” Felix defended himself. 

“Well,” Changbin started, “I’m glad to hear about your graduation. Y/N and I were actually just about to head out to lunch.”

I winced at his words, withering under Felix’s accusing watch. “Is that so?”

Changbin carefully studied the two of us. “I’ll be waiting in my car, Y/N.”

I grabbed my bag while pushing the picnic basket back in Felix’s direction. “I swear to god if you tell Chan about this, I’ll castrate you in your sleep.”

“We’ll see about that,” Felix growled, and that was the moment I realized that I was treading very dangerous waters.

Changbin drove us to a charming restaurant about two blocks away from the main company building. He pulled right up to the sidewalk, handing his keys to the waiting carhop as if he had done this about a thousand times. But I guess that was pretty likely considering just how well-off he was ten years later. “Impressive,” I remarked to him, reluctantly accepting his outstretched hand as he helped me out of his car.

“Yeah?” Changbin said, offering me a wink. “Maybe I’m trying to impress you.”

“You’re a dangerous man, Seo Changbin,” I told him, bowing slightly to the waiting doorman who kindly ushered us inside.

This was why the pretty girls always lusted after Changbin. When we were both still in high school, Changbin epitomized the phrase #BoyfriendGoals because he was super attractive, incredibly smart, and athletic enough to earn himself a shining record after an impressive baseball season. And I was just as mindless as the rest of the zombies chasing him down in the parking lot at school or squealing his name in the hallways between classes.

“I eat here all the time,” Changbin assured me, flashing the hostess a dazzling smile while handing her his card. 

“Right this way, Mr. Seo,” the hostess curtsied, ignoring the long line of waiting patrons who apparently didn’t matter as much as my new boss as she led us to a private table. “Your waitress will be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I said politely, eyes wide as I took in the gorgeous chandelier dropping from the high-domed ceiling.

“Close your mouth, Y/N,” Changbin said. “You act like you’ve never been somewhere like this before.”

“Not exactly,” I said because the nicest place Chan had ever taken me was an Olive Garden and that had ended poorly after Chan accidentally knocked his shoulder against a poor server on his way back to the table causing an avalanche of salad and breadsticks.

“Bang should be taking you to places like this all the time,” Changbin commented, perhaps a casual observation to anyone else.

I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. “Chan and I prefer to keep things low-key.”

“Should I have taken you to Applebees instead?”

“How funny.”

“I’m kidding, Y/N,” Changbin said, reaching down to adjust the buttons on his coat sleeve. “You’ve changed a lot since college.”

“Since we dated you mean?” I asked with an arched brow.

“Well,” Changbin started, “if you want to think of it like that.”

“Hmmm,” I briefly meditated, studying Changbin’s expression carefully. “How else should I think about it.”

Changbin tsked, raising a hand to signal for a nearby waiter. “I don’t mean to suggest anything.”

The waiter approached our table with purposed steps. “How may I help you, sir?”

“A wine menu?” Changbin asked, nodding generously when the waiter returned with his requested selection. 

“You make a beautiful couple,” the waiter gushed while he pulled out a thick leather wallet, flipping to a fresh page.

“Oh! We’re not-”

“-A bottle of pinot noir, please,” Changbin said, returning the menu without bothering to correct the waiter’s observation.

“Right away, sir,” the waiter agreed.

I held my tongue until he was further away, bothering an older couple who were probably complaining about something to do with their food. “Changbin,” I warned him. “You should be careful.”

“It was a harmless mistake,” Changbin said. “How can I possibly come between you and Bang?”

I worried my bottom lip between my teeth because it sounded less like a dismissal and more like a challenge.

The sun was already setting by the time I returned home thanks to one of Changbin’s business partners who refused to leave the office building until they had a chance to speak to him. I was low on patience, tired from an exhausting day of dealing with telemarketers insisting our company needed the latest software for our clientele. There was only a limited number of times I could tell somebody to fuck off before inevitably shouting into the other end that I was in no way interested in whatever useless product they were trying to shove down my throat, complete with some kind of scammy discount and an opportunity to be represented on their website.

To make matters worse, my feet were blistered from wearing heels all day and my shoulders ached from slouching over my computer to answer emails and monitor the progress of Changbin’s latest project. My only saving grace was the message Chan had sent me earlier telling me that he had already clocked out at work, which meant I could probably guilt him into giving me one of his trademarked messages. I mean, all I wanted to do was curl up next to Chan in bed and sleep for the rest of the day.

But it looked like my desires would have to wait because as soon as I unlocked the door to the house, I could immediately sense that something was wrong. Taking a deep breath, I cautiously walked into the living room to find Chan and Felix busy with some kind of video game on our HD TV, volume high until I walked in the room. Chan waited until I called his name, reaching for the remote to mute the TV before tossing his controller onto the coffee table. From across the room, Felix’s eyes were alight with mischief.

“How was work today?” Chan asked with a tone that I only ever heard when my husband was feeling particularly pissed off about something, and I had a sneaking suspicion it involved me in some capacity.

“It was fine,” I said, deciding to play it safe while I kept my complaints to myself.

Felix smirked in my direction, whistling to himself as he reached for his game controller. “Felix told me something interesting today.”

“Oh did he?” I asked, wondering just how much pain Felix could tolerate if I marched over to him right now and hit him with an umbrella.

“He said he tried to have lunch with you.”

“I was busy.”

“With Seo Changbin?”

Felix was definitely going to die tonight. That little snitch deserved every ounce of punishment I was starting to formulate inside my head. “He invited me out instead.”

“I got that,” Chan snapped and I knew my husband was in a foul mood. I’m talking about the kind of mood that usually sent me scampering for the safety of the bunkers. Like the time some drunk asshole rear-ended Chan’s precious convertible while we were sitting in downtown traffic. Or the time when we were Freshmen in college and Chan confronted Changbin after finding out that he had been cheating on me.

But this time the problem was me which meant I couldn’t just hide from Chan and wait for things to go back to normal. “Honey,” I attempted to reassure him. “It was just lunch.”

“Yeah? But that doesn’t seem like keeping things strictly professional to me, Y/N.”

“He’s my boss now, I can’t just tell him no.”

“Actually, you can,” Chan disagreed, now refusing to look at me. “How would you like it if I ate with my new superintendent?”

“Depends on if she offered to pay or not.”

“Y/N.”

“Chan,” I pouted. “I’m really sorry! He just surprised me.”

“It makes me wonder what else you might be doing with him,” Chan snarked.

Meanwhile, Felix calmly continued to play his video game while wearing the biggest shit-eating grin. “Are you accusing me of having an affair?”

“Why not?” Chan shrugged. “Since we’re keeping secrets from each other.”

“It was just one lunch,” I shouted. “He’s never done anything like this before. Most of the time I’m alone in the lobby taking his stupid phone calls.”

“And that’s all I should ever hear about,” Chan growled. 

“You’re making this into a bigger deal than it needs to be,” I scoffed, rolling my eyes before remembering just how much Chan hated it when I did that to him.

“Y/N,” Chan addressed me sternly, deciding to abandon his seat on the couch to crowd me in the foyer. “If this was anyone else, I wouldn’t make it into a bigger deal, but this is someone you used to fuck while running around campus bragging about it to everyone who would listen...which was usually me!”

“He doesn’t mean anything to me,” I said. “I already told you that!”

“You’ve said a lot of things recently,” Chan said. “I’m not sure what to believe anymore.”

“Yeah? Well, it’s your brother’s fault since he’s always looking to cause a fight between us,” I said, glaring at Felix while he continued to play the part of the perfect little angel that Chan always considered him.

“Don’t drag Felix into this, he has nothing to do with anything!”

“Oh, don’t be stupid, Chan,” I huffed. “We fight more about Felix than we do about Changbin.”

“Stupid?!”

Oh, Jesus, Y/N, when are you going to learn to watch your big mouth? “Channie, I’m tired of fighting all the time. I feel like we’re always fighting.”

“Yeah? Well, you give me a lot of reasons to stay mad at you.”

“For fuck’s sake,” I groaned. “We never fought this much when we were dating.”

“Is that so? You think our marriage is the problem?”

I froze at his implications. At this point, Felix might as well drag out a bucket of popcorn because this was probably the most interesting drama he had watched all year. “Chan, you can’t honestly believe that.”

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” Chan said, shaking his head. “But maybe I’ll give you some time to think about it.”

“Chan!” I whined, fighting back tears as I watched him turn his back on me. For the first time since we had met, Chan was leaving an argument unresolved, choosing to lock himself away in our bedroom while I struggled to keep myself together in the middle of our foyer. 

“Goodbye, Y/N,” Felix whispered into the silent room, waving his fingers at me because he had gotten exactly what he wanted.

Felix’s birthday often turned into a multiple-day affair because he always wanted the best that money could buy. Since Chan and I still weren’t speaking to one another, Chan was taking the brunt of party preparations which meant Felix was practically over the moon with excitement. And why shouldn’t he be? He hit the metaphorical jackpot because he somehow got me in the doghouse while he soaked up all of Chan’s attention. 

“Y/N,” Felix whined. “My toast is burnt!”

“Sorry,” I murmured softly, taking his plate even though the bread looked perfectly fine. Meanwhile, Chan chose not to say a word, heavily engrossed in his laptop and doing his absolute best to pretend I was invisible. 

“What about this, Felix?” he asked, tilting his laptop screen so that his brother could see whatever it was that probably cost hundreds of dollars. On the other hand, I couldn’t even find the courage to ask Chan for his credit card so that I could replace the broken stool at our counter.

“That’s perfect, Channie!” Felix grinned, hanging off his brother’s shoulder like the little pest he was. 

Our Amazon shopping cart was steadily filling with Felix’s party supplies. But I guess it was just Chan’s account now since he had changed the password without telling me. I tried to order a new curtain for the bathroom, only to repeatedly watch the warning screen pop-up with every refresh of the page. “Who do you want at your party?” Chan asked Felix.

“Hyunjin, Jisung...” Felix started, listing out each name while I winced every time because our house would probably end up completely trashed at this rate.

“Whatever you want,” Chan said, apparently forgetting the last time Jisung came over only to break one of my grandmother’s expensive vases. Since it was my stuff, he probably didn’t care. “I have to leave soon,” Chan said, wordlessly clicking on the ‘place your order ’ button before logging off.

“Will you be gone all day again?” Felix pouted, jutting out his bottom lip and offering his very best puppy dog eyes.

23-years-old my ass.

“I’ll do my best,” Chan promised his brother. “Do you need anything while I’m out.”

“More chocolate cereal?”

10-years-old more likely.

“I’ll see you tonight,” Chan cooed to Felix, ruffling his hair before snatching his coat from my outstretched hand, refusing to even acknowledge my existence. 

Felix waited until Chan was gone to lean in across the counter. “You two are so cute, Medusa.”

“I fucking hate you,” I said, aggressively attacking the grease stain on the stainless steel pot I was currently washing.

“Whatever,” Felix shrugged. “Will you ask Minho to come to my birthday party?”

“There’s not a fucking chance in hell that I’m asking him,” I snapped.

“Why?” Felix posed the question as if he felt absolutely no shame. “I like Minho and I want him to be there.”

“Fuck off,” I retorted, drying my hands against the rough texture of the dishtowel.

Felix sniffled, reaching for his phone and holding it up to his ear. “Channie? Yeah, Y/N was being really mean to me-”

“-Jesus, fine, I’ll ask him,” I quickly interrupted the little Devil. “How old are you turning again?”

“24!” Felix grinned. 

“Then act like it,” I muttered while dialing Minho’s number.

There were only two rings before he answered. “It’s too early on Saturday for this bullshit, Y/N,” came Minho’s pleasant voice from the other end.

“You sleep too much anyway,” I returned. “I have something to ask you.”

“It better be pretty fucking important.”

“Will you come to Felix’s stupid birthday party this Friday?” I asked him, ignoring Felix’s bright smile as he tried to listen in on our conversation.

“Did you buy booze?”

“I’m sure Chan will buy the little bastard all the booze he wants,” I said, pushing Felix out of the way.

“What time?” Minho asked. “I’m a very busy man, Y/N.”

“The hell you are,” I snorted. “9:00 PM. Don’t be late! I’ll be the pathetic piece of trash sitting on the couch alone.”

“It’s about time you learn, Y/N,” Felix remarked, giggling when I threw the dishtowel at him.

“Still in trouble with hubby?” Minho asked. “I hear you have to stay separated for a year before the courts grant divorces these days.”

“You’re an asshole,” I said. “Should I put you down on the guest list?”

“Of course,” Minho said. “Underlined because I’m a VIP”

I hung up on him before he could dig his grave any deeper.

“Don’t burn that,” Felix scolded me, hovering by my side to play the part of Gordon Ramsay while I sweated my ass off to cook everything on his stupid party menu.

“It’s not burnt,” I grumbled. 

“I hope you’re not wearing that to my party,” Felix said, casting a critical eye over my outfit. 

I reached down to adjust the waistband of my skirt. “What’s wrong with it?”

“This is a classy party, Y/N, and you look like a hooker.”

“Go help your brother or something,” I said, doing my best to be nice since it was Felix’s birthday. I could manage some form of kindness even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Chan’s fine,” Felix waved me off even though I was certain I saw Chan struggling to hang up lights on the balcony just moments ago when I went to change my clothes.

I glanced at the clock above the stove. “Your fellow party animals will be here soon.”

“You’re not cool enough for those references,” Felix told me as he straightened his tie. 

“I wasn’t trying to be,” I said, wiping my forehead with a nearby towel. My makeup was probably smeared but I didn’t care. Who was I hoping to impress anyway? The only person I dressed up for was Chan and he could care less about my appearance.

And it was only a few minutes later when the doorbell started to ring. I took a deep breath to try and reassure myself that I could make it through tonight without another Advil. “Someone’s here!” Felix squeaked, knocking his shoulder against mine in his haste to answer the door.

“No matter who it is, I’ll still be in hell,” I muttered, closing my eyes when I recognized Hyunjin’s voice mixing with Felix’s.

“Y/N!” Hyunjin sang, poking his head in the kitchen as if he owned the place. “There you are! Looking all pretty for us.”

“That was the goal,” I half-heartedly quipped back, turning off the stove once I declared Felix’s stupid Tteok-bokki cooked enough.

“Your legs look good,” Hyunjin said, abruptly leaning in closer. “Are you even wearing anything under that skirt?”

“Hyunjin!” Felix shouted his friend’s name from the living room. “Come check out the decorations.”

Hyujin blew a kiss in my direction, tossing me a poor excuse for a wink. “Bye, Y/N!”

Maybe one more Advil wouldn’t hurt.

The party was in full swing by the time Minho finally arrived, greeting Felix with some kind of cheesy handshake. It was too late for me and I had already resigned myself to the futon of isolation in the living room, mourning the loss of one of my good dishes thanks to Han Jisung deciding to request something fancier than our regular set. “Sorry, Y/N,” Jisung had apologized. “I’m sure you can easily replace it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure my dead grandmother has another lying around somewhere,” I snarled in his direction, ignoring his wide-eyed look of disbelief as I searched for the broom.

Minho eventually finished his conversation with Felix, offering me a sympathetic look while occupying the last remaining chair. “Y/N?”

“Oh, I’m doing just fine,” I told him.

“You look miserable,” Minho informed me, throwing up his feet on my glass coffee table even though I had told him countless times before to keep his dirty socks on the floor.

“Chan hates me,” I said. “Felix is happy.”

“Ah,” Minho nodded. “Trouble in paradise?”

“It’s all Felix’s fault,” I sniped. “He found out I went to lunch with Changbin and told Chan because he knew it would lead to an argument.”

“He still doesn’t like you?” Minho snorted as if the idea were amusing.

“Felix has hated me since the beginning of time. He was brought to this Earth to cause me misery.”

“I’m sure that’s an exaggeration,” Minho said. “Where is Chan, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” I sighed. “If he wasn’t with Felix, then you might want to check the balcony. I think I saw him sneaking the Advil bottle out there earlier.”

Minho snickered. “You don’t even realize it, but you two are grossly similar. I’m sure Chan would have preferred a quiet dinner out somewhere.”

“Well, Felix always gets what he wants,” I said. “It’s been this way since high school.”

Minho considered me for a moment. “In his defense, Chan has always been Felix’s best friend. They’ve been attached at the hip since they were kids, but then you came into the picture. Suddenly, Chan isn’t as interested in spending all his time with Felix any more.”

“Are you saying I need to find Felix a girlfriend?”

“Y/N,” Minho said softly. “I’m just saying, maybe you need to think about things from Felix’s perspective for once. You were an only child, so you can’t understand what it means to share a close relationship with a brother.”

“Hmm, well you’re like a brother to me,” I teased him.

“Ugh,” Minho gagged. “You’ve had my dick in your mouth before, Y/N, please never say that again.”

“I was trying to be sweet,” I said. “But you ruined it.”

“Did I?” Minho smirked, glancing up at something behind me. “Are you having a good time, Felix?”

“We’re out of beer,” Felix interrupted, face suddenly mere inches from mine. 

“You shouldn’t drink like a fish.”

“Medusa,” Felix tried again, holding out a ring of car keys. “Make yourself useful and buy us some more beer.”

I rolled my eyes but acquiesced. “Whatever you want, your majesty.”

I hated winter in New York City because the sidewalks were icy all the time and I was constantly in danger of rolling my ankle. Nevertheless, I tolerated the snow and wind by trading my heels for rain boots and wrapping my body in the thickest coat I owned. Normally, I might consider walking to the convenience store, but tonight I knew my fingers would be nothing but frozen icicles if I attempted that perilous journey.

Thankfully, the traffic was fairly light this late at night which allowed a relatively quick drive to the store, parking my corvette at the sidewalk. I walked inside with a muffled greeting to the store attendant, searching down the aisle to where the beer was stocked in the freezers. “He didn’t even tell me what he wanted,” I scoffed, deciding on the expensive Corona from the bottom shelf since Felix always liked things more when they cost a lot of money.

“Having a party?” the store attendant joked, accepting my debit card after ringing up the cases. 

“Something like that,” I said, wondering if that was always his assumption if someone bought more than one bottle of the nasty smelling beverage.

Meanwhile, it had started snowing again when I walked back outside, popping the trunk to store the beer until I finally returned home. I switched on the ignition and turned on the heat to its fullest setting before sitting back in my seat to wrap my arms around myself, fighting off a series of chills. The action reminded me of Junior Year when Chan and I used to make late-night trips to the gas station near his apartment complex. We’d buy all sorts of unnecessary snacks, driving back together because we had planned a movie marathon of Harry Potter. Chan always complained about the films I liked, but he watched them anyway because he knew I enjoyed them.

I came to a stop at a red light, frowning when I noticed that nobody was coming in either direction. “Change already,” I ordered the traffic light as if it could possibly accommodate my request. 

“I’ll teach you patience, Y/N,” Chan once told me after we waited nearly an hour in a heavy downpour outside the comic book shop because he just had to have some kind of rare edition figurine.

The traffic light eventually turned green and I rolled out into the intersection, never noticing the reckless SUV until mere seconds before it crashed into the side of my car.

I had the worst luck in the world when it came to relationships. First, there was my tired rendezvous with Minho in high school, blowing my best friend in the bathroom because he’d always fuck me with his fingers afterward. Then, there was that slimy bastard Seo Changbin who I willingly gave my virginity to, thinking he was the love of my life. That was before I found out he was cheating on me with some sleazy cheerleader thanks to a couple of photos surfacing on Facebook. My heart was instantly broken, pride in shambles as I spent an entire week hiding out in my dormitory ignoring all phone calls and text messages as I cried over a boy who never deserved my attention in the first place.

I plucked a few strands of grass from the ground next to my feet, savoring the first taste of sunlight I had allowed myself since that unfortunate discovery. Who the hell did Seo Changbin think he was anyway? Playing with my heart like that as if it meant absolutely nothing to him. 

At least I wasn’t sad anymore, having spent enough time crying over the destructive boy. Now, all I could think about was smacking that stupid smug grin off his face while thoroughly purging my built-up frustrations...“Y/N?”

I turned around quickly at the sound of Chan’s voice, rising to my feet to brush the loose grass and dirt from my jeans. “Channie,” I said, nervously wringing my hands in front of me. Chan was probably mad at me since I had been ignoring him all week.

“Are you okay?” he asked instead, tone surprisingly gentle as he stopped in front of me.

“Not really,” I told him honestly.

“I didn’t think so,” Chan said, features hardening. “I’ll beat the shit out of Seo for you.”

I shook my head. “That won’t do any good.”

“But if it makes you feel better,” Chan said, reaching out to delicately swipe his thumb under my eyes. “You aren’t sleeping.”

It was more of a statement rather than a question, but I still felt the need to reassure him. “I promise that I’m okay.”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Chan said, offering me a kind smile. “I can tell, you know?”

“Yeah you’re good at that,” I groused. 

“I’m pretty good at a lot of things when it comes to you,” Chan admitted, eyes holding a pure kind of affection as they appraised me.

“I’m glad I have you,” I said, letting out a sigh as I allowed my head to rest against the center of his chest. “You don’t think I’m stupid for trying things out with Changbin?”

“You’ve always liked him,” Chan said with a bitter tone that sounded more like a jealous lover rather than a friend.

I chose not to say anything. “I hope the two of them make each other miserable.”

Chan chuckled. “Is this your form of revenge?”

“I don’t think it’ll work out in my favor,” I said, pressing myself even closer to Chan, pausing when my hand drug across his stomach. “Holy shit, Channie, you weren’t kidding about the gym.”

“Did you not believe me?”

“Who are you trying to impress?” I grinned, propping my chin against his sternum to make it easier to look into his eyes.

“It’s always been the same person,” Chan said vaguely, dimples on display as he considered me. “I hope Seo didn’t destroy your faith in relationships.”

“It wouldn’t be entirely his fault,” I sighed. “All my relationships have been complete failures.

“Y/N,” Chan whispered, brushing a light kiss across my forehead. “Maybe it’s because you’ve never tried the right guy.”

The memory was laced with something warm, an association that stood in stark contradiction to my current condition, slowly opening my eyes to a pulsing room, somehow much too bright for my pupils to adjust. Was I alive? I wondered because I couldn’t really feel anything which was certainly disarming. But then there was a familiar smell, rancid and burning, and it made me feel like I was definitely not in any sort of happy afterlife. There was also the problem of the blurry figure slowly coming into focus next to me, fiddling with an array of wires twisting together with the sounds of a machine distantly clicking in the background. I watched through hooded eyes as the now perceivable person in question handled an impressively large needle, pinching my skin painfully at the juncture of my elbow. 

“Han Jisung,” I began, startling him from where he was checking the IV. “Just put a fucking needle into my arm. What hellish realm have I descended into?”

“Y/N!” Jisung squealed loudly, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss against my forehead. 

“What the hell was that for?”

“For not dying,” Jisung sighed in relief. “When you came in, there was nothing but blood and glass everywhere!... Oh, and Chan may or may not have a fine against him for beating the living shit out of the asshole that hit you.”

“Why are you so loud?” I groaned, palming my forehead because the room was still swimming into focus. “What happened?”

“You probably don’t remember,” Jisung said. “It was a pretty bad concussion, but you were in a car accident.”

“I was?” I questioned, struggling to recall anything past a few minutes ago when I first realized that incompetent Han Jisung was sticking pointy objects into my veins.

“Chan was so upset,” Jisung said. “He wanted to do the surgery, but the superintendent wouldn’t let him.”

“Surgery?” I repeated. “I had surgery?”

“Cuz’ of your ribs,” Jisung said quietly as if finally realizing that he probably shouldn’t be saying all this to me at once, especially if the persistent beeping of the heart monitor was something to be concerned about.

“What’s wrong with my ribs?” I asked, somewhat panicking as I felt down my chest, noticing the thick bandage wrapped around my upper body. 

“Chill, Y/N,” Jisung placated, reaching around me to adjust the monitor. “Now I can’t get an accurate reading!”

“So sorry to inconvenience you,” I said with a hoarse voice, reaching up to quickly wrap my hand around my throat. “Is there something wrong with my voice?”

“Well, you’ve been out for three days so...”

“Three days!”

Now I was definitely panicking, full-on hysteria as the heart monitor loudly detected the irregular contraction of the muscle thundering aggressively against my chest. It was enough to alert the doctor on duty, walking into my room to check on his patient, scolding Jisung harshly as he filled a syringe with a clear liquid. “Don’t worry, Y/N,” he said kindly, injecting the fluid into my IV. “Just relax.”

My eyelids fluttered closed, overwhelmed by a disjointed sense of calm that gradually pulled me back under the current of drug-induced bliss.

“Sweetie.”

My eyes flew open at the sound of his voice, the best wake-up call in the whole world. I slowly turned my head to the side, taking in the sight of my disheveled husband, eyes blood-shot with heavy dark bags haunting tight circles against his pale skin. “Channie?”

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Chan sniffled, fresh tears swelling his cheeks as he leaned in closer to grip tightly to my hand. “It’s all my fault.”

I considered him closely, wondering what he could possibly mean by accepting blame for whatever was causing him obvious pain. I faintly remember Jisung telling me about am accident, but it was difficult to really think back any further, like a wall had enclosed around my brain, refusing to allow anything else to come into consciousness. But Chan didn’t need to cry, he was usually the best part of my life, waking up in bed together to share sweet kisses or eagerly waiting for him to come home and swoon over my newest K-Drama obsession. “Why are you sad?” I asked him, reaching out to do my best and wipe away those nasty tears.

“You wouldn’t answer your phone,” Chan cried, heart-wrenching sobs that broke my heart with every heavy inhale. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“Is that why you’re upset?” I asked, wiping away a few mischievous curls that had wandered into his eyes. 

“I found you in the intersection,” Chan whispered. “And the car...” he trailed off with a choking gasp as if the details were too horrific to describe. 

“I’m here now, Channie,” I said, desperate to relieve his sadness. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

Chan nodded furiously, pressing a wet kiss to the back of my hand. “I can’t lose you like that, sweetie.”

“Well, I plan to stick around for a while,” I said, earning me a half-smile in return. “Channie,” I whispered, glancing around the room conspiratorially. “Is there anything good to eat in this place?”

This time Chan did laugh and it was the best medicine I could possibly have.

“Vitals?” Chan asked, lingering around the poor nurse who clearly wasn’t expecting this much attention over one patient when she clocked in this morning.

“I already checked them,” the nurse informed him, writing down something on the chart clipped to the edge of my bed. I sipped my water as I watched the two of them, wondering if Chan had been this overbearing the entire time.

“Temperature?”

“98 degrees.”

“Blood pressure?”

“122/75”

“Respiration?”

“Chan,” I whispered softly, immediately drawing my husband’s attention who was at my side in an instant. “I think the nurse knows how to do her job.”

The poor woman shot me a grateful smile as she re-clipped my chart, hurrying out of the room as if she couldn’t possibly escape fast enough. “Sorry,” Chan said, taking his seat next to me. “I’m just worried.”

“I get discharged tomorrow,” I told him. “Pretty sure that means I’m just fine.”

“But your leg,” Chan whined, fussily messing with the large cast, tucking the blankets in securely.

“It’ll heal,” I said, frowning as I picked at the squishy jello the nursing staff had brought in earlier. “Isn’t there anything else to eat?”

Chan tsked. “That’s good for you, Y/N. It’s full of necessary vitamins.”

I should have known better than to ask my doctor husband if I could possibly have something that actually had flavor to eat. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, Chan refused to waver from the nasty daily meals I was brought, much to my disappointment. “I’d kill for a burger.”

“Too much fat,” Chan said, turning down the idea before I could possibly try to negotiate.

“It physically hurts me to eat,” I tried. “I think they’re secretly plotting my death.”

“Y/N,” Chan scolded lightly. “There’s a reason why we serve this to patients, alright?”

I frowned at him but shoved a spoonful of the nasty substance in my mouth, earning me a pleased smile in response. “Happy?”

“You can have better food tomorrow,” Chan said, pausing as he reached down to check his phone notifications. “Minho is here,” he grumbled. “I guess I’ll go get him from the lobby before he gets lost.”

“Thank you, darling,” I chirped, accepting his brief kiss.

“I’ve seen worse,” Minho declared, ignoring Chan’s disbelieving scoff. 

“You obviously weren’t here when she was first brought in,” Chan growled to him.

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” Minho asked, disregarding Chan who had gone back to check the dozens of machines somehow monitoring my every possible bodily function.

“Hungry,” I grimaced, pointing to my discarded container.

Minho lifted it curiously, bringing it his nose before he let out an unattractive grunt. “Is this garbage?”

“Don’t encourage her,” Chan said, reaching for my chart for the millionth time that day. “I’ll be right back, Y/N.”

“Okay,” I said, rolling my eyes once his back was turned.

I waited until Chan was gone before desperately reaching out for Minho. “You’ve got to help me, Minho! I can’t stand another day of jello and mashed potatoes. Get me a Big Mac and I’ll give you the number of one of my work acquaintances.”

 Minho raised an interested brow. “Scale?”

“Oh, she’s definitely an 8...please!”

“That’s impossible to turn down, Y/N,” Minho grinned. “Give me ten minutes.”

I snatched his sleeve before he could walk away. “Make sure Chan doesn’t see.”

“So ask Han Jisung to fuck something up, got it.”

“You’re my best friend in the entire world. The rest of my life will be spent in your servitude.”

Minho offered me a brief salute and I solemnly nodded my head while ignoring the way my stomach growled.

It was growing dark outside and I’m pretty sure Jisung had accidentally given me too much of whatever pain medicine I had been prescribed. I could barely keep my eyes open as Chan settled next to me on his chair. “Y/N,” he said softly, picking at an invisible string on his suit pants. “I want to talk to you about the fight we had.”

My exhaustion vanished in a flash. “Okay,” I said, even though I had been hoping Chan would just forget that the fight even happened.

“I owe you an apology,” Chan said. “For acting like a jealous prick. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

“It’s my fault too,” I said. “I know how you feel about him, but I still went out anyway.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Chan said, swallowing down the lie even though I could always read him like a book. “But every time I think about Seo Changbin, I can’t help but remember Freshman year.”

“You act like he broke your heart instead,” I tried to joke, but Chan was everything but amused.

“Yeah, he did break your heart, Y/N, and I’ll never forgive him for it. He was an arrogant bastard back then, and I’m sure that hasn’t changed much.”

“Not really,” I agreed, recalling our prior lunch arrangement.

“And I’ll never be okay with the fact that you work with your ex-boyfriend, but since you love the job so much, I can’t possibly fight with you anymore,” Chan said. “I should trust you as my wife.”

“I’m not remotely interested in Changbin,” I said. “It just sucks that he’s got good connections.”

“But if he tries anything on you...”

“Don’t worry,” I reassured him. “I would never do anything to hurt you, even if his thighs look super good these days.”

“Y/N.”

“I know, Channie,” I giggled, reaching for his hand. “Trust me, alright? I don’t plan to work there forever. Fingers crossed for a promotion to the publisher.”

“I’ll pray every night if I have to,” Chan said. “As for Felix...”

“Don’t worry about him,” I said. “I know that I should try harder to get along with Felix.”

“It’s a two-way street,” Chan countered. “I’ve spoken to him about everything.”

“You have?” I wavered. “What did he say?”

“Well, he feels really bad about the accident,” Chan said. “I think he realizes how much better things would be if you guys were on friendlier terms.”

“He really looks up to you,” I said, recalling Minho’s words from before. “I hope he doesn’t feel like I’m trying to steal you away.”

“Felix and I have always been close,” Chan said. “We both had a hard time moving here from Australia. But at the end of the day, we could rely on each other..”

“High school wasn’t very good to either of you,” I said.

“Well, except for you of course,” Chan said, attempting a smile. 

“They were mean to you, Channie,” I said, “and you didn’t deserve any of it.”

“I’ve gotten over that,” Chan insisted. “But Felix always took everything harder than me. He wasn’t very social until college.”

“He should have stuck to being an introvert,” I said. “Look at the kind of friends he ended up with.”

“Are you saying Hyunjin is a bad influence?”

“Have you been around for our interactions?

“I’ve definitely noticed, Y/N. Remember what happened that one time when we went camping-”

“Anyways,” I loudly interrupted. “It seems like we both have a lot of things to work on.”

“But that’s why we talk about it,” Chan said, pressing a soothing kiss to the wrinkled crease of my forehead. “That’s what married couples do, right?”

“Ah, Channie, when did you become a walking cliche?”

“Should I be more serious, then?”

“You’re getting there with the doctor’s jacket.”

“Really?” Chan asked, sitting back in his chair. “Is this your way of asking us to try some kind of kinky roleplay?”

“I don’t know, but it might be interesting. Can I call you Dr. Bang?”

Chan was positively beaming. “You can always call me Daddy instead.”

“Darling, I think they accidentally gave you my prescription of morphine.”

If anyone were to ever ask me, then I’d tell them that signing hospital discharge papers was about as difficult as applying for a loan. “How many more are there?” I wondered, scribbling a messy signature at the bottom of the last sheet Jisung had brought for me to sign.

“I think that’s it.”

“You think?” I snorted, watching Jisung sort through each page carefully like he really had no idea what he was holding.

“Each year they add more shit for the patients,” Jisung explained. “I’m pretty sure they do it just to confuse me.”

“Everything confuses you, Jisung,” I said, patting his arm sympathetically. “Has Chan come in yet?”

“He’s on his way with Felix.”

“Goodie,” I grumbled. “Are you working late today?”

“Someone has to help since Chan insists on taking the day off,” Jisung said.

“I hope they aren’t planning on letting you do the surgeries.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?”

I kept my mouth shut, deciding to let Jisung live in his deluded fantasy world where he could somehow manage to cure patients of their ailments as opposed to causing them. Unsurprisingly, since the moment I had first met him, Jisung had always been completely sure of himself even if he was whole-heartedly wrong. For example, when we were all seniors in college, Chan refused to speak to Jisung for an entire week after the two of them received an F on their group project. Apparently, Jisung forgot to submit the lab report on time and waited an additional week before approaching the professor to politely ask if he could still bring it to her after class.

“Channie,” I tried to console him. “You know Jisung didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Yeah, but my GPA will still suffer the consequences,” Chan had sulked, whining about how difficult it was to maintain a friendship with Han Jisung.

Yet, when Chan was first hired by the hospital, Chan sent in a very persuasive reference for Jisung, encouraging the higher-ups to offer him a nursing position. The three of us went out to celebrate Jisung’s new job offer, nursing shots of bad vodka while eating rather terrible sushi. “Chan,” a very tipsy Jisung had said. “I love you so much, man.”

“Oi, keep your hands to yourself,” Chan had grouched despite wearing the biggest grin on his face...

“Y/N,” Jisung interrupted my recollection. “I think Chan just got here.”

“Finally,” I sighed. “I thought I would never be able to get the smell of alcohol out of my nose.”

“Thank God you’re here,” I said the moment Chan and Felix walked into my hospital room. “I’m pretty sure I had to sign my life away to leave this place, but it’s totally worth it.”

Chan rolled his eyes playfully. “I see you’re feeling better this morning.”

“I’ve been better for days,” I said. “But my doctor wouldn’t allow me to so much as breathe the wrong way.”

“Is that so?” Chan asked, reaching down for my discarded bag. “Your doctor sounds like a real asshole.”

“Yeah, but he’s pretty hot. I’d totally fuck him if I wasn’t already married.”

“It sounds like you have a thing for doctors?” Chan asked. “Does this husband of yours know that?”

“He probably does,” I said. “But I feel like he’ll probably leave me to masturbate on my own for months because of this dumb cast.”

“Y/N,” Chan scoffed. “It’s important for you to heal properly.”

I groaned loudly. “Why are you so responsible?”

Chan carefully handed me my bag. “Make sure you have everything. I’m going to talk to your surgeon one more time before we leave.”

It was difficult to prevent myself from protesting, finally realizing just how quiet it was with just me and Felix in the room. “Hi, Felix,” I said, awkwardly adjusting my blankets once Chan had disappeared from sight.

“Y/N,” Felix said, gaze focused on some unidentifiable point on the floor.

“What have you been up to?” I asked, trying to sound cheery because I didn’t like the look of despondence on Felix’s normally bright visage.

“I owe you an apology, Y/N,” Felix said with a vulnerable tone I had never heard from him before. “It’s because of me that you got hurt.”

“Felix,” I hesitated because this was uncharted territory for the both of us, a distant cry from our usual taunting banter. “You don’t need to do that. Everything’s fine now.”

“Your leg,” Felix whispered as an unexpected tear slid down the side of his face.

“It’s just a fracture,” I shrugged. “I’ll be just fine in a few months.”

“Just a fracture,” Felix parroted back, voice thick with emotion. “Why aren’t you mad at me? Because you should be. I’m always getting in your way.”

“Is that what you think?” I asked, surprised to hear Felix’s true feelings. “Felix, you aren’t in anybody’s way. You know I don’t really care that you’re staying with us, especially after you just graduated. I just wish you’d be a little bit more respectful.”

“Because I’ve always been jealous of you, Y/N,” Felix said. “Especially since Chan likes you more than me.”

“Felix, you know that Chan loves you. He would do anything in the world to make you happy.”

“He’s always chosen you over me,” Felix said. “He stopped hanging out with me on weekends in high school, and he even went to the same college as you even though he was accepted into Harvard and Yale.”  

I was shocked by Felix’s true feelings, a rare moment of vulnerability that he was choosing to share with me. “Lixie,” I said. “Why have you never said anything before?”

Felix shivered at my use of his nickname. “I didn’t want to. You guys are so happy together and I didn’t want to hurt Chan.”

“Ya! Felix,” I frowned, “your feelings matter too. And if you really feel that way, then we need to talk about it together.”

“I’m just a burden,” Felix gruffed.

“No, you aren’t,” I insisted. “You’re part of our family, and if you’re ever feeling uncomfortable, then you deserve to be heard.”

“You don’t really mean that do you, Y/N?” Felix asked with glistening eyes. “I don’t want you to say these things just to make me feel better.”

“Felix, when have you ever seen me lying to someone just to protect their feelings?” I asked. “I always speak my mind, and this time I’m putting my foot down. When we get home, we’re having a movie marathon, just the three of us. And this weekend, you and Chan can go somewhere together out of town. I’ll have Minho stay with me instead.”

“Really?” Felix asked, swiping a sleeve under his bright red nose. 

“We’re in-laws you know,” I said. “That means we look out for one another.”

“Y/N,” Felix giggled and, for once, I didn’t feel the slightest bit annoyed. 

“Lee Felix, don’t you ever let me catch you crying like this again, understand?”

Felix nodded, smiling so brilliantly that I was reminded of when we were much younger and he was just an innocent little boy who idolized his older brother.

“Careful,” Chan said, holding the door wide with one hand while keeping a firm grip around my waist. 

“I’m not gonna break,” I grumbled, pausing in the doorway as I let out a grateful sigh. It was a huge relief to be back at home and not stuck in that hospital room surrounded by questionable smells. 

Chan carefully led me into the living room and I gave him my crutches before collapsing on the futon, ignoring the rigid fabric because I had never been happier to hug one of the matching throw pillows. “Comfortable?” Chan asked, helping me prop my leg up on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Felix lingered in the doorway, grasping my bag tightly between his hands.

“Come join us, Felix,” I said. “You’ll let out all the heat.”

Felix nodded, eyes wide as he locked the door behind him. Chan sent me a curious look as if he wasn’t sure what I was hoping to accomplish by inviting his younger brother into the same room. “I have something for you.”

I clapped my hands together eagerly. “Is it something loaded with carbohydrates and fat?”

“Not quite,” he said, handing me my cell phone. “Seo Enterprises called earlier today. I already contacted them about the accident, but I guess they need to hear from you.”

“Great,” I grimaced, dialing the number from memory. It rang for a few moments, and Chan and Felix were both messing around with the TV, probably trying to figure out what to watch. Because the only thing the two brothers argued about was whether action movies were better than romance.

“Seo Enterprises, this is Eliza speaking how can I help you today?”

“Hi,” I immediately cringed, wondering how many cool points I could possibly lose in one day. “This is Y/N, can I speak to Mr. Seo please?”

“I can transfer you right away,” Eliza spoke promptly as if she had already been prepared to receive my call.

“Y/N!” Changbin’s voice now answered. “I’m glad to hear from you.”

“Yeah, I’ve been having a lot of bad luck recently,” I said. “I guess you know about the accident.”

“I heard,” Changbin said. “How are you?”

“I’m alright,” I said. “But I might need some time away from the company. Apparently, a broken leg is a pretty big deal.”

“Take as much time as you need, Y/N,” Changbin said. “I’ve hired a temporary secretary until you’re ready to come back.”

“I don’t know, Changbin,” I said. “It might take several weeks. Maybe you should just hire a replacement.”

“There’s no need for that, Y/N,” Changbin countered. “I still believe you’re the best person for the job.”

“Well, if you’re sure...” I trailed off, shaking my head furiously at Chan when he held up our used copy of The Notebook.

“I’m definitely sure,” Changbin said. “Call me when you want to come back. We still have a lot of things I want to do together in the future.”

“You’re too indecisive,” Chan said, finally taking a well-deserved seat next to me on the futon. 

“And you have terrible taste in cinema,” Felix retorted.

“Yeah? Well maybe we should just let Y/N pick,” Chan suggested, mouthing a sweet kiss against my temple.

“I think Felix should decide,” I said, cuddling up closer to Chan’s side. 

“Really?” Felix asked, appearing entirely surprised that I would allow him such freedom.

“Why not?” I sighed happily. “I’ll even watch that weird anime movie if you want.”

Felix scoffed but a faint smile remained as he grabbed the remote. Chan chuckled and leaned down to press another kiss to the top of my forehead. “I’m proud of you, sweetie,” he whispered.

“It’s only because I love you so much,” I said while shrugging indifferently, but Chan could always read through me.

“Hmm, well I love you more,” he said, brushing his fingers through my hair as the opening credits rolled across the screen.

[ororowrites]

Two Thousand Twelve (Yahya x Black OC)

 Sweet Thang Series  - Chapter One

Warnings: Language, sexual situations, substance use 

Word Count: 2,409

Los Angeles - 2012

Forty-five, forty six, forty seven, forty eight, forty nine, fifty! Candace finished up her last set of sit-ups, dusted off her leggings and grabbed her belongings. The gym served as her stress reliever, especially when her boyfriend was the cause of the stress. When she felt like she had worked up enough of a sweat, Candace returned to the off campus apartment she shared with her twin sister, Trinity. 

They were both in their Senior year at USC, far away from their home in Chicago, Illinois. Candace was majoring in Dramatic Arts while her twin sister was studying History and Education. They were both the apple of their parents’ eyes but Candace was the child who went above and beyond to make them proud. Her sister Trinity was more of a free spirit and though she had many academic successes, she did not care what their parents thought or about their constant pressure. Trinity and Candace had two older sisters, Freida and Talia and a younger brother, Anthony who was about to start his freshman year of college. The twins were in their last semester of college and while they looked forward to graduating, they did not look forward to splitting up for graduate school. Candace had dreams of attending Yale’s Drama School and her twin wanted to move back home for her next educational ventures. 

“I need to figure out what I’m going to do. At this rate, I can’t keep up with my tuition payments,” Candace complained, checking her bank statements. “Most of my money is going towards the car and insurance and I can’t get rid of that.

“Did you talk to someone in the financial aid office? They stay having attitudes in there but maybe they can help. I would say I’d help you....I’m broke as shit, though.” Trinity twirled her Ramen noodles around her fork and stuffed it in her mouth. “I’m surviving on Ramen noodles and faith.” 

“I wasn’t expecting your help, Trin.” Options began to pile up in Candace’s head and only one of them appeared to be the best choice. Maybe not the best choice to many but her pride kept her from asking her parents for more help. Anthony Jr. was a talented athlete and with them putting him through school, she didn’t want to bug them. Plus, she wanted the best for her brother. He deserved the world for all the hard work he put into his craft and turning his life around after a rough patch.

“Getting another job is probably your best bet,” Trinity suggested, shrugging her shoulders. 

--------

“Let me eat you out,” Maxwell whispered in Candace’s ear. 

If she rolled her eyes any harder, they’d fall out of her head. Why did she even agree to come out with him when his sheer presence irked her soul? Maxwell was Candace’s on and off again boyfriend and right now they were in an off phase. As usual, Candace ended up making herself available so Maxwell could apologize. 

“Why can’t you just watch the movie,” Candace ignored the twitch between her legs and kept her eyes on the movie screen. Agreeing to come to the drive-in was a poor decision. Everyone always ended up fucking at the drive-in. 

“Come on, baby. I’m trying to apologize.”

“There’s a such thing as saying ‘I’m sorry’.” Maxwell’s verbal advances turned into physical ones as he pressed his lips to her neck. 

“For a man that claims he knows me sure doesn’t get a clue.”

Even though she was slightly turned on and would do anything to take her mind off her latest concern, Candace was distracted. 

“Aight then. What’s up? What’s on that pretty mind of yours,” Maxwell questioned, his golds glistening as he smiled. 

Candace pulled at the drawstrings on her sweatshirt, “I don’t think I’ll be finishing school this semester.” 

One thing Maxwell didn’t have to worry about was money when it came to school. He was a future NFL prospect and had a full-ride scholarship. “Damn, baby. Can’t you call your parents for help?”

“Ant is graduating this year. They’ve supported us all this time and I’ve been doing good paying my tuition this year. As soon as my hours got cut at work, shit started getting out of hand,” Candace sighed, running her hands down her face. 

“Why didn’t I know this was going on?” 

Taking a deep breath, Candace thought about how many ways could say, Because you only think about yourself. “You’ve been too busy worrying about other things. I told you they were going to cut my hours.” 

“My bad. You know I stay busy with ball. I don’t remember you telling me that,” Maxwell replied, letting his hand rest on her thigh. “I would help you out if I could.” 

No you wouldn’t, Candace thought. But, she stayed silent to protect her peace. 

Maxwell’s hand crept across her lap and between her legs. She hated that she couldn’t control her sexual urge when it came to this man. The empty promises she made herself time and time again were getting ridiculous. Candace flinched when Maxwell’s cold fingers pushed her thin, cotton shorts to the side. Once again she was failing herself. Candace reached for the lighter and left over blunt that Maxwell had in the cup holder. 

“Relax,” Maxwell hummed, waiting until he felt Candace’s muscles relax before pushing a finger past her folds. He watched Candace close her eyes, letting the smoke pass through her lips. Hitched breaths filled the car, even with the loud action scene coming through the speakers. Letting herself go, she began to roll her hips into his hand.

As usual, he had her where he wanted her. Right in the palm of his hand. 

--------

San Francisco - 2012 

Yahya returned from his lunch break early, excited about new ideas he wanted to write down before they left him. His mind never stopped going and it often kept him up at night. Since graduating from Berkeley, he worked for the Mayor’s office as an Urban Planner. His passion for building up the urban core piqued his interest in architecture and his minor in social justice. When he landed the job with the Mayor’s office, he jumped into projects feet first. He had been a part of two major projects and was currently working on another one. 

“Mr. Abdul-Mateen,” the secretary said as Yahya walked through the glass doors and towards his office. “Mr. Reid would like to see you in his office.” 

Stefanie’s statement did not worry him. Her eyes always held a certain sadness, so Yahya didn’t see that sadness as a threat. Yahya walked down the long hall to Mr. Reid’s suite. The normally rambunctious man was sitting at his desk but facing the the window overlooking the city skyline. 

“Remember your first project, Yahya,” he asked, sensing a presence in his office. 

“Yeah, that proposal for the new school. That one public official was a pain in our ass but the proposal finally went through at the last minute,” Yahya recalled, smiling at the memory of his first success on the job. 

“Yeah, Mr. Ryan is a total hard ass for no reason. But you should be proud.” 

Sensing a shift in the conversation, Yahya cut right to the chase. “Mr. Reid, what’s this about?”

“Um....why don’t you come take a seat,” the director motioned to the chair in front of his desk. With the way he was looking, this could not be good news. 

Yahya had been let go. Even after all his hard work and fresh ideas, the city needed to make budget cuts and his job was one of the first on the list. Their reasoning? They had too many Urban Planners and could only afford to pay two of them and those two just so happened to be recent graduates that would get lower pay. His world felt like it had fallen apart in the ten minutes he spent in Mr. Reid’s office. What was he supposed to do now? There was no plan B when he was very calculated about his life decisions since childhood. Yahya knew what he wanted to do, which school he wanted to attend and which career path he would take to get to his ultimate goal of having his own architecture firm. This put a dent in his plans, leaving him feeling helpless. 

When Yahya got home, he didn’t even think about calling his mother and father about the bad news. He wasn’t ready to accept the news himself, so he’d wait a couple of days. Instead, he called up his boys in Los Angeles and told them he was heading down for the weekend. 

Kevin and Damon were brothers and Yahya’s best friends since grade school in Louisiana. When Yahya and his family moved to Oakland in his 6th grade year, they all remained close. Summers were spent in Louisiana and Yahya was grateful his friends were at least in the same state now. Kevin was a celebrity trainer and Damon was currently in law school. They had both moved to Los Angeles shortly after high school. 

“What’s up, dude,” Kevin exclaimed, clasping Yahya’s hand and roughly patting him on the back. “Long time, no see. You ain’t been down here in a minute.” 

“Shit, been busy, bro. Wassup Damon,” Yahya greeted the other brother and stepped inside their apartment. “Damn, the place is nice. Glad to see ya’ll asses finally got a couch and tv stand.” 

“Shut the hell up. Always talkin’ shit,” Damon groaned. “Want anything to drink? Water, soda...or a drank drank?” 

“You got anything dark? I’ll take some of that.” 

“Long day, man? You look like you been through it,” Kevin added, joining Yahya in the living room. He flipped the television to Sports Center.

“Long day? How about a long week. They worked my ass. I may put in for some vacation time here soon. I need a break,” Yahya lied. He would keep this layoff a secret until he had a plan on where he wanted to go next. 

“I hear you,” Kevin agreed. 

The crew watched sports highlights and reminisced on their childhood for a couple of hours. It was late but the night was still young for them and they didn’t want to be stuck inside on a Friday night in Los Angeles. They hit the town, settling on a strip club downtown. 

“Glad I got paid today because I’m about to go crazy up in this bitch. I heard this place has the best looking strippers and I’m tryna make someone’s daughter rich tonight,” Damon yelled over the music. Beautiful women seemed to be everywhere they turned. The strippers, the bartenders and a few women there for bachelorette parties or just there out of curiosity. 

“Just as long as you have enough left for your half of the rent, nigga. I’m not covering your half again this month,” Kevin eyed a dancer on the stage twirling down the pole with her legs in a split. “Damn.”

Yahya was distracted. Even with all the good distractions in front of him, he couldn’t stop thinking about losing his job. The entire six hour drive to Los Angeles, he tried to think of a plan B or if he needed to move and try to get an urban planning position in a different city. 

“Whoa, shit! Sorry,” a woman groaned, grabbing onto Yahya’s shoulder trying to catch her footing. “These niggas don’t know how to say excuse me around here. Sorry I ran into you.” 

“Oh, you’re good. You okay,” Yahya caught the brown beauty before she could hit the floor. 

“Yeah, first night back at this place. Gotta get used to the rude ass men in here. Thanks for catching me. Enjoy the rest of your night,” she quickly pushed through the crowd and disappeared. 

Yahya turned back to his boys to find them shaking their heads. “What?” 

“You just gone let shawty walk away like that? Did you see how that ass was sittin’? How those titties were sittin’? Honey was bad as fuck and you let her walk away,” Kevin sucked his teeth. 

“Unlike you, I’m a gentleman. Plus, she was in a rush. She’s working.” 

“Man, whatever, lets go find somewhere to sit and order some liquid courage. I’m trying to get fucked up tonight.” 

The trio settled on a table in the middle of the club after ordering their first round of drinks. They spent a little more money than they wanted but Yahya finally loosened up and started to have a good time. The next morning, he’d probably regret all the alcohol he was consuming to numb his pain. Too much liquor meant making silly decisions; like paying for a private dance in the famous Dream room. 

Yahya took a seat on the leather sofa and waited on a dancer. He had opted for the Friday night surprise, instead of asking one of the dancers on the floor for private time. The door opened and the woman who had run into him earlier that night closed the door behind her. 

“Oh, you again,” she said with a grin. 

“You act like that’s a problem,” Yahya laughed, licking his lips. His eyes were low from all the alcohol he had consumed that night. “Maybe this time I can catch your name, sweetheart.”

“A dancer never tells anyone her real name. I go by Cakes.” She stood in front of Yahya’s long legs, placing her hands on his knees. Anywhere by 112 started playing over the speakers. “This is one of my favorites.” 

“Mine too.” 

Candace tried to shake whatever connection she was having with this random man at the club. It was her first night back in two years and the first rule of Dynasty was to not fall for these randoms in the the club. They didn’t see you as anything else but a hoe in the strip club. Besides, things were on the upside with Maxwell.. at least for the time being. The only reason she had come back to Dynasty was to get enough money to pay up her tuition and put funds into her savings account for her moves after graduation. That was it. Candace had no room to be greedy because this was one secret she did not want getting back to her parents. 

Rolling her body, Candace kept her eyes on the customer, dragging her hips to the seductive beat.  

Maybe the long drive down to LA would be worth it. 

Tags: @just-peachee​ @blackburnbook​ @emjayewrites​ @chaneajoyyy​ @kumkaniudaku​

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[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Sophia Jirafe

Seven of Sophia Jirafe’s fics are at Gossamer, but more of her X-Files stories are at AO3 (as sophiahelix). I’ve recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including Stones and Bones. She was active in the fandom during the show’s run and has never strayed far from fandom in general. She co-founded Glass Onion, a great multi-fandom mailing list that now has nearly 1,000 fics from 100 fandoms at AO3. Big thanks to Sophia Jirafe for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It did initially, but so many old shows are on streaming now and getting discovered by new people, it makes sense.

I did get a comment from someone who said my first story under this name, posted in early 2000 when I was a college freshman, was older than her by a couple of months, and THAT took me aback.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

It was my first fandom, discovered when I was 17 and searching for info about the show on the school library computer, and it really shaped my whole life! I met a lot of people I still know today (mostly in non-fannish venues like FB, though I do still have some connections in fandom), and learned a lot about writing and just life generally, since I was younger than most of fandom at the time.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I started off on a tiny forum at a website called Squirrel’s Nest, but I kept seeing people thanking Scullyfic in fic headers and eventually I was able to join the mailing list (which was capped to 500 members). Scullyfic was everything to me — I made friends, betas, discussed the show, learned about all kinds of things on Off-Topic Fridays, etc. A lot of those friends, I would email with or more often chat on AIM (individual or these sprawling group chats that would go on all day), and then at the end of 2001 we started migrating to Livejournal. I was getting into Buffy more by then, but it was still mostly the same crowd of people I knew from Scullyfic.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

I feel like it started me on a whole life path really — finding that my deep obsession with fiction could be channeled like that and shared with other people, as well as deepening my writing. Online fandom has been a major part of my social life for over 20 years now, and I love the mix of getting excited about things with friends and also the creative outlet.

My corner of X-Files fandom in particular was just very calm and enjoyable for the most part, full of older professional women who were happy to be friends and give me advice about all kinds of things, and it really set the bar for me with my online interactions. Now I’m almost 40 and trying to be that person for my younger friends, as well as having no patience for toxicity and in-fighting in my fandom spaces.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

A combination of the creepy conspiracy angle and just adoring Scully. I remember how mysterious and fascinating the show seemed when I discovered it right before S5, and there was no way to find out more except to keep watching and hoping they explained. Scully was so smart and tough and beautiful and interesting, and as a teen I was just captivated by her (and the UST, though I didn’t care about Mulder as much).

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I ran across it a couple times early on but felt embarrassed by the concept, but then I read the first in Karen Rasch’s Words series and suddenly it clicked for me. After a while I started daydreaming my own conversations between them, very similar to what happens to me now when I’m getting into a new pairing, so after reading tons of recommended fic by big authors, I started writing my own (the 3-4 stories I posted in high school are all wiped from the internet now, though).

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Good memories, though because it was my senior year of high school and college, I know a lot of it is just tied to that time in my life, and also being in my very first fandom. I will rewatch episodes from time to time, but I basically never revisit former fandoms because they’re kind of like exes, even if I finished on a good note. I also think my taste in fic has changed (and there isn’t the same novelty of “characters I like getting together omg!”)

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

So many! None of them had quite the same combination of excellent central architecture (especially pre-AO3) and a really high level of discussion and friendliness without being enormous, but I’ve loved them all in their own ways. I’ve done fandom on LJ/DW, Tumblr, Discord, and now on Twitter, and I think I miss the mailing list days the most. You didn’t have to repeat yourself so much in multiple conversations, you weren’t character limited, and the discussion was all in one place, with personal stuff more confined to your side conversations. Discord is a little like that, but it moves too fast and there’s too much noise for my taste.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Heh, after X-Files I went through a whole phase of faves in the Scully vein — Buffy, Aeryn Sun, Kara Thrace, etc. Like many people I’ve shifted primarily into m/m in the last decade (Sherlock, YOI, and recently The Untamed have been my major fictional fandoms, along with a lot of sports RPF), but for non-fannish shows I’m always looking for awesome new female characters, like Elizabeth on the Americans, Peggy on Mad Men, Nadja on What We Do in the Shadows, etc. And I do LOVE Killing Eve and have written a little f/f over there.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I’ll rewatch favorite episodes occasionally, and I keep thinking about a full rewatch but it takes so much time! I never saw the second movie, and I didn’t finish the first of the new seasons because I was hating it, so it’s a little hard for me to think fannishly about them when I disliked basically everything after “Je Souhaite” so much (as far as I’m concerned the show ends there).

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

X-Files no, but yeah I’m still very active in fandoms.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I lost all my saved fic several computers ago, but I recall loving “Blue Christmas” by Plausible Deniability and “Diamonds and Rust” by MustangSally (obviously everything she wrote was great).

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

Looking at my X-Files fic, I can’t believe how short it is and how comparatively little of it there is (I have lost track of a few ficlets). It felt like such a big deal to finish anything back then! I think my favorite remains Alphabetum, which involved a tricky structure and 5 elements given by people as part of the Scullyfic Improv challenge, where you had a week to write a story around those elements.

My favorite of my recent fic in fictional fandoms is probably the GoT/YOI crossover novel I wrote a couple years ago, for a completely opposite experience to this (and proof you can grow as a writer with a lot of effort!)

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

It’s honestly hard to imagine going back (like I said, I usually don’t), but I guess I could get inspired by something.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I certainly still write, and I do have to give credit to XF fandom and Scullyfic in particular for giving me the start I got, where I really wanted to be writing good fiction. The few things I wrote in high school were just me jamming out romantic cliches, but the people I was lucky to know in XF fandom showed me that “just” fanfic can still aspire to be high quality. I am a much, much better and more disciplined writer than I was back then, but I might never have started on this path without fandom friends encouraging me.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

Usually just daydreaming about emotional dynamics between characters/people, but sometimes something specific in canon or real life (I write a lot of RPF) gets me going, or maybe something I read.

What's the story behind your pen name?

When I wrote for X-Files, I picked “Sophia Jirafe” combining my favorite first name with a fancy spelling for my favorite animal (I was 18! Don’t judge!) Over on Livejournal, my friend Jintian and I initially shared an account with the same name as our website, double_helix, and when she got her own account I changed to sophia_helix, which is now sophiahelix just about everywhere. A little clunky, but I like the continuity (and I do run across old friends who remember the name).

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

The friends I’ve known for a very long time know about it, but we have never talked about it in depth. My husband, who I met not long after getting into fandom, also knows about it, and he’s encouraging and also a writer so we talk all the time. I told my mom in college and she was pretty dismissive, so we haven’t talked about it since (but my younger sister knows and is cool about it).

When I was younger, it was something I shared readily (I bonded with a new friend in law school I saw looking at LJ), but now I don’t really bring it up with new acquaintances.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

I just made a Carrd the other day with all my various fannish addresses (Twitter, locked fannish Twitter, AO3, Tumblr)

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Just that it really was a high quality fandom — so much excellent long casefic, so many cool down to earth people, just generally a great launching place for a young fan. The friendships I made with older people were really important to me, and it makes me sad to see a lot of younger people now getting upset about the idea of anyone over a certain age being in their fandom spaces. I hope someday fandom can get back to appreciating that people of all ages can be the fandom type, and that everyone brings something different to the community.

(Posted by Lilydale on December 1, 2020)

[redmaneroster]

Our Home Away From Home, Away From Home

[1] [x] [3] [4-5] [6] [7] [8-9] [10]

PART 2 – Adhesion

It’s the second year at Beacon and the rest of the juniors are out by the cliffs watching freshmen start their initiation by being hurled into the woods at a speed that would break normal people’s necks.

Weiss wants to scope out the competition to see if they’ll have any favorable opponents for the Vytal festival. They’re competing this year again too and she aims to win.

Yang arrives a little later than the rest since she spent much of the night before unpacking.

On instinct she moves to sit next to Jaune but then he laughs at something Pyrrha says and she almost doesn’t. Almost. She plops down anyway and asks what’s up. Turns out, another student was launched screaming through the sky just like Jaune was.

He decides then to make an announcement. Then promptly shuts his mouth. He wants to keep it a surprise. Ruby bugs him to say it anyway but he holds his tongue.

Yang can tell Pyrrha already knows and its clear Ren has an inkling. (Nora’s poker face is so legendary that nothing can be read). It’s another thing Yang doesn’t know about Jaune.

-0-

Ruby has taken to decorating their room. She strings lights across the ceiling, sets table cloths on their nightstands, lays a carpet in the middle of the room, and smatters the walls with pictures of them and their adventures. It feels a little more like home and Weiss doesn’t fuss about how scattered it all looks.

Yang can’t help but fixate on one photo tucked into the corner of the room.

The two teams are huddled together, but on the far side is Jaune and Pyrrha. Cheeks pressed together and their hands – unseen in the photo – are clutched together behind them. They were in love then, she tells herself, even if the word love is so ambiguous at this point that it makes her irritable.

Maybe one day she’ll convince herself he’s okay and that he has nothing to hide. At least from her.

“Going for a walk,” she announces to the busyness of the room.

The clatter of Blake’s book follows after her as she plunges into the noise of the hallway.

Blake walks with her without a word because the halls are filled with so many voices behind the hundred closed doors and any one of them could be listening in. It still, somehow, feels uncomfortably quiet.

They sit at the garden just out by the dorm and Blake asks her what’s on her mind.

Yang says that it’s not worth mentioning. A petty, tiny thing that she’ll get over in a day and that it’s silly she’s even worrying about it.

Blake tells her that it can be silly if she’s worrying about it. Just because the world has bigger problems doesn’t mean she should feel ashamed for feeling what she feels. Some things – she says slowly, empathically – are beyond our control. Even in ourselves.

Blake’s smile isn’t real. Yang catches the self-defeat hiding in the too wide look in her eyes.

Not wanting to let Blake wallow in her own torments amidst the silence, Yang confesses that she’s gotten to really know Jaune for the better part of a month. She says she’s his friend but believes that she barely qualifies. She doesn’t really know the real Jaune Arc.

“What’s the first thing he does in the morning?” Blake asks.

“Uh… cook breakfast, water the cactus, play death metal at my door so I wake up to set the table.”

“He has a cactus?”

“Don’t ask me to explain. It’s a long story.”

Blake explains that despite her little courtship triangle with Sun and Ilia over the summer, she couldn’t answer the question herself. If anything, they know more about each other than she does them. When it was happening, she tried to memorize everything on the surface. Music tastes, favorite food, books they’ve read (they didn’t have many. They’re movie buffs), but one time the two of them were arguing and Ilia let slip that Sun was a virgin, and Sun returned fire by reminding her that so was she.

Blake didn’t know any of that, but they told each other in confidence somehow.

It was no surprise that they called things off a month before school started. She even overheard Sun setting Ilia up with a close friend of his, and Ilia’s been behind him and Pyrrha ever since.

Yang tells her that it doesn’t mean she didn’t get to know them or get closer.

Blake smiles, brightly with a ghost of a chuckle rumbling from her lips. “Yeah, that’s what I mean.” Blake may not have gotten to know them as well as they did with each other, but who can say who is closer to who. Does that kind of comparison even matter?

The bottom line is that they care about each other. It’ll take some time to get to know them but love isn’t a quantity set with knowing what someone says or does. Those are things that make it easier, but love of any kind has only one requirement: a willingness to give something selflessly.

Yang is surprised by that and admits, rather somberly, that she hasn’t done that yet.

“What are you talking about? You did.”

Blake explains that – for the most part – people give things to those they care about without really knowing it. You listen to them talk so you lend them your ear, you eat where they want to eat so you give them your time, you say something nice, you crack a joke, and sometimes, just sometimes, you sit there and be whatever they need. The sacrifice is often tiny, but you’re still giving for their benefit.

And sometimes these connections go at a different pace, she says. Like her with Sun and Ilia, them to each other, Yang with herself, and Yang with Jaune. That doesn’t mean they’re any more or less valuable.

So maybe it isn’t so bad that she’s still getting to know him, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t friends.

-0-

At lunch, everyone seats themselves around a blonde in a hoodie, snoozing with the hood pulled up. Minutes later, Jaune shows up and they all stare wide-eyed at the mysterious blonde they converged around. Jaune’s surprise, apparently, is that his twin sister, Joan, is attending Beacon with her team.

Yang realizes that Jaune hasn’t been wearing his hoodie.

Joan calls it the “elder hoodie,” because no one knows who was born first so they trade the hoodie depending on who the eldest is supposed to be at the time. Since he stole it for a year, she’s keeping it till they finish being sophomores. Everyone’s just going to have to get used to him without it for a while.

Nora says he should stop putting it on altogether cause his muscles are showing. Joan takes a quick look at her chest – undefined in the oversized cloth – and quickly takes it off and tries to give it back to him. They fight over it until Yang snatches it for herself.

The twins are momentarily embarrassed until she says, “Okay! I’m the eldest now.”

Joan decides that Yang makes a great big sister. No one tells her that Yang’s three months younger.

-0-

It’s Friday after class and Yang shouldn’t be surprised that Joan muscles into the apartment. She doesn’t take the couch either. Joan and Jaune shared a bed so often that she decided that bunking with him was evidently the logical conclusion.

Joan cooks soup for dinner. It has banana slices in it. It reminds them of home.

Yang wakes up on Saturday morning to find Jaune sat on the couch in a towel; shampoo still in his hair. Joan woke up grumpy (he doesn’t mention the teary-eyed look) and kicked him out of the bedroom so she could shower and change without him seeing. Yang doesn’t like this, but Jaune tells her not to get mad at her.

He explains that, even though he reconciled with his parents, it didn’t go so smoothly with his sisters. Joan especially. Had she known he was running away to Beacon, she’d have followed after him. He didn’t want to risk her future for the same shot in the dark as his.

Still, she’s upset cause she spent a year worrying about him and being petty for one morning is hardly the worst she could do.

“And what if she does this again?” she asks, arms crossed.

“She won’t,” he says swiftly, an affection to his eyes that tells her that he knows his twin sister as well as he does himself.

Joan is probably hating herself for kicking him out in the first place, and will come out apologizing for it. Cause she’s eighteen and things should have been okay now. No sense in dragging things along.

Yang offers her bathroom for him to finish. She resists innuendo. He catches it anyway. They laugh.

“I’ll get some soap from my closet real quick.”

“Dude, use mine. I don’t care.”

As predicted, Joan comes out into the living room looking sheepish. She asks where Jaune is. Yang instead offers to talk.

With a hesitant step, she sits down with her.

Joan tells her about how things went down at home. She spent a lot of time defending Jaune, saying he’d come back soon. It was only a week before even she seriously doubted he’d come back safe. They feared the worst until Jaune called Saphron at the height of his guilt to explain that he’s fine and that he got accepted into Beacon. A week later, he calls again and tells them about his team.

When they heard they were both nice and competent, they left him alone until he was ready to come back.

They knew they had to trust him and their dad, Apolian, admitted that he should have tried to prepare him instead of pushing him to pursue medicine like a civilian.

Good things did come out of it though. Joan got training like she wanted and she got registered with a local team. It was too late to enroll for freshman year but their accolades qualified them as sophomores. She didn’t want to stay in the field though. She wanted the academy experience.

It’s thirty minutes later after an anecdote about one of her teammates, that they realize that Jaune’s already starting breakfast. (He still had some of his spare clothes in Yang’s closet. It did use to be his).

He’s happy they’re getting along.

Joan is sorry she was being petty.

He’s sorry he ran away without telling her.

Apologies go back and forth until it ends abruptly. Yang almost envies the speed in which they hash things out.

They spend the day together.

Joan took the same guitar lessons as Jaune. They’re both terrible at singing. So is Yang. The neighbors hate it. Then they make plans to buy amps.

The afternoon is a blur of stalls and dust shops. Sugar and music. Noises and laughter. Joan is still fresh into the city life and Yang feels like she could take her under her wing. She even has an interest in getting a bike.

Yang shows Joan the Club. Junior is amicable with there now being two Arcs who will keep her on the dance floor instead of the bar.

There’s a moment where Yang and Joan are talking between themselves. In that time, Jaune thinks to himself for a minute too long and he reaches for his flask to ease the torments swirling in his mind. Yang takes his hand. She noticed. With a smile small enough to be honest and pleading, she leads him out of the booth and into the dance floor.

Joan watches the way they look at each other.

“Huh.”

She snaps a picture.

-0-

So much happened the day before that Yang almost gets whiplash when it’s just her and Jaune again. It’s blistering hot outside so they decide to make milkshakes.

Yang goes on a tirade about why Jaune should just buy a bike instead of saving up for a car. Jaune insists on getting a Highway Aries his sister Sable vowed was safe and sturdy. They’re so distracted by the conversation that someone forgets to lid the blender.

The mishap is explosive, and they’re both covered in stray milk and sugar. They take a picture and laugh it off. It’s another memory – they decide – that would be timeless.

After getting changed, they get the idea to get a “before and after” shot. Since they couldn’t take a before shot, they take one now and pretend that it is since the kitchen’s all cleaned.

They try with the milkshakes again, remembering to have the lid closed, and after smothering each in whipped cream, they’re sat at the TV, streaming an old film they saw as kids.

Their scrolls buzz.

Everyone saw the photos.

Ren asks why their clothes are different in both shots.

Nora sends a winky face.

Joan rants about how she leaves them for one day and they’re already messing around.

Weiss rants about their lack of propriety.

Jaune is static as he stares at the continued outburst from the rest of their friends just because Ren had to question the logic and Nora had to take it that way. Before he types down an explanation, Yang stops him. She takes another photo, milkshakes in hand, and captions it.

“Come join us next time. Let’s make it a party.” Everyone who isn’t Weiss knows the party is genuine. Weiss struggles to even say “orgy” and, somehow, “preposterous.”

Jaune takes pity on her and asks Neptune to explain that it’s a joke. Somehow realizing she misread the whole thing makes Weiss feel even more embarrassed.

Yang is very satisfied with the outcome.

Sat quietly together, their movie drones on and they forget that milkshakes aren’t exactly coffee. Their drowsiness straps weights to their eyelids. Haphazard jokes that mean nothing and make no sense are the only attempt at staying awake.

Joan slips into the living room cause she forgot something. She finds Jaune cleaning glasses while Yang slumbers on the couch.

“No luck?” she asks.

“Didn’t even try,” he answers.

“Maybe you should.”

“Maybe I’ll screw up again.”

“Maybe you won’t.”

“Maybe it’s safer –” he pushes a tiny strongbox into her hands, “–that I don’t.”

Despite herself, Joan doesn’t pry. She hugs him instead and makes for the door. Before she leaves, she peeks through the crack in the door and sees Jaune staring at Yang. Temptation twitches at his fingers. He goes for his flask.

Joan gets an idea.

-0-

Joan skips class Monday morning. She sneaks into the apartment and waters down Jaune’s whiskey.

She doesn’t know if it’s wise. It might even end poorly, but it might turn out precisely how it should. Jaune already hardly notices the taste, and this won’t feel much different.

A week passes and nothing happens. That is until Joan is sitting with Ruby on Sunday. The weekend before, they went to the dock to indulge in the carnival.

Joan is, at first, not surprised to hear that Jaune and Yang disappeared somewhere towards the end.

Then, it turns out, Yang came back to the dorm really late with a bruised lip. She was also missing her jacket.

Jaune walks into the cafeteria with band aid on his neck. They already know he’s hiding a hickey.

Ruby makes a demand: as his best friend, she wants to know what he did with her sister. Her and Joan look up at him expectantly.

“Fine,” he groans, “but this stays between us.”

[1989dreamer]

FTH-2020-Seventy-Five Percent

For @fandomtrumpshate​‘s 2020 auction, big thanks to @evanesdust​ for bidding on me and for being so patient.

AO3 link

Summary: Stiles and Derek are roommates at college, and living together is going well considering Stiles is harboring the hugest crush on Derek. When Derek needs an emergency date to his sister's tenth anniversary dinner, Stiles agrees. He doesn't expect it to get messy. He's kept his feelings in check for three and a half years. Spoiler alert: it gets really messy.

From this prompt. “We’re fake-dating and I’m supposed to publicly break up with you but you’ve been irritating me lately so instead of dumping you I publicly proposed to mess up your plan and now we’re getting married, fuck” au.

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Fake Dating, Pining/Mutual Pining, Minor Misunderstanding, Human AU (full tags can be found on AO3).

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

“I need a date,” Derek says apropos of nothing, and Stiles carefully sets down his brush, leans across the aisle, and stares at his friend. Derek flushes. “I mean,” he all but spits out between gritted teeth, “that my sister is having her tenth anniversary dinner, and I am the only single one in the family. If I don’t have a date, I’ll spend the whole time being accosted by my relatives.”

“And that’s my problem how?”Stiles asks. He goes back to his painting. The life model flexes just a tiny bit, and Stiles rolls his eyes at him.

“It’s your problem now because I will pay you to come with me,” Derek says, an undercurrent of threat in his voice. Or tears. Could be tears. Derek sounds mad when he’s about to cry sometimes.

Stiles sets his brush down again. Of course Derek would hit him where it hurts the most. All of Stiles’ meager earnings from his part-time job go toward keeping his Jeep running so that he can make the trek back up north to visit his dad when he’s on break from school.

“How much?” he demands, hating himself for being this easy.

Derek looks relieved. It’s a good look for him. Although, Derek looking good is any day of the week. “Thanks. Like three hundred for the day of? Maybe fifty for each additional thing that comes up?”

“And how often will things come up?”

Derek shrugs. “Maybe once or twice. I’m sure at least some of my family will want to call you to make sure that you’re real.”

Stiles claps a hand to his chest. “You haven’t told them about me?” he asks, pretending to be scandalized.

It’s Derek’s turn to roll his eyes. “I have told them about you, but in the context that you’re my best friend at college and we live on opposite sides of the state.”

“So they don’t think I’m real?” Stiles asks, not sure if he should be insulted or not.

“The most common thing I’m asked about you is ‘What is a Stiles?’” Derek grins, private and sort of cheery. “I’ve kind of stopped referring to you by name now. Just easier that way.”

“Hardy har har.” Stiles pokes Derek. To be completely fair, their freshman year, when Stiles would go home, he’d complain to his dad about his unfairly attractive, selfish, loud, attractive roommate. His dad had been convinced that Derek didn’t exist until he met him when Stiles was emptying his dorm room.

Now he and Derek have an apartment off campus, and Dad keeps trying to get Stiles to invite Derek to Beacon Hills because he claims he should at least get to intimidate his son’s future husband before their wedding.

Never mind that Derek has never even been seen with any dates, much less given Stiles any hope that he could possibly have a chance with him.

Until now. Except not really, because Derek just needs a pretend boyfriend, not an actual boyfriend.

“Why me?” Stiles asks, squinting suspiciously at Derek as he tries and fails to draw the absolute lounge of the life model. Stiles is recommending that Isaac never model again. It’s too much ego and not enough clothes, although Isaac did keep his scarf draped artfully around his neck when he dropped trou. “Why not Boyd or Erica? I’m sure either of them would be pleased to play Derek Hale’s date for a night.”

Derek shakes his head. “Both of them have already met my family. And so has Isaac. We were all friends in high school. You’re the only one I talk about regularly. It’d seem too weird if you weren’t the guy I was secretly pining after all these years.”

Stiles intensifies his squint. “Am I?” he asks bluntly.

“Are you what?” Derek refuses to make eye contact, making quick lines with his charcoal across his drawing of Isaac.

“Am I the guy you secretly pine after?”

“No…?”

Stiles throws his brush at Derek, not even a little sorry when it smacks against his chest and Derek complains that he’s wearing his favorite shirt. It’s not his favorite shirt. Stiles stole that a year ago and has yet to return it.

He’s a bit of a stalker. It’s a habit he’s trying to break. He will break. When he and Derek have graduated and gone their separate ways. When all they’ll be in a few years is the occasional drinking buddy, living too far to justify visiting more than once every couple years, work and life getting in the way of their friendship.

Stiles shakes himself. “So don’t make it a question.”

Derek sighs in defeat, handing Stiles his brush back. “Look, Laura already thinks that you’re my secret boyfriend.”

“I thought they thought I didn’t exist,” Stiles says, bitterly. He takes the brush and lays it down, turning to face Derek. Then he gives Derek a tissue to at least wipe off most of the paint. Too bad it’s oil and will stain.

“Laura helped me move in this year. She saw you and your dad from a distance and I pointed you out.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “I could have met your sister?”

Derek squirms. “Yes?” he hedges. “But she was asking all these weird questions like our first kiss, where we go on dates, if we’ve gone all the way yet. I didn’t want you to deal with that, so I distracted her until she had to leave.”

“So I get to meet her now?”

Derek nods. “It is her anniversary after all.”

“Cool.”

Then Stiles ignores Derek in favor of finishing as much of his painting as he can before class lets out.

    ��                                                                                                                ~ * ~

Lunch is leftover chili with homemade cornbread that Derek made earlier. Stiles taps a pen on some paper, thinking over all the things he knows he should put into a contract of sorts for his and Derek’s arrangement.

Stuff like pet names, PDA, just what they’ve “done” as a couple, how long they’ve been dating, and just how long they are supposed to be together before they break up.

Derek sees the list, scratches out pet names—“Trauma,” he mutters as explanation—and adds the terms of payment as well. He also writes down that the breakup should be public so that Derek can take time to “recover” without his family breathing down his neck.

Overall, there’s nothing really objectionable to pretending to date Derek aside from the fact that Stiles would much rather actually date Derek, but how to tell your presumably-straight roommate that you wanna suck his dick and kiss his lips?

Derek gathers the dishes and starts washing them. “Hey, so, my lab is today, so I’ll see you after 5:00. We can talk more when I get home.”

“Sure thing.” Stiles has to run himself or he’d stay and watch Derek clean up. It’s almost like a dance when Derek really gets into it. Stiles likes to park his butt on the couch and watch him while he pretends to do his homework. If Derek’s lab runs late, it explains why he’s cleaning now. Which means that not only will Stiles miss it because he needs to go to class, but it will be his turn to cook and clean tomorrow.

Ugh.

Stiles had considered Derek selfish freshman year because Derek hadn’t known how to share a room. He’s not sure why though, it’s not like they were each other’s first roommates either. Now Stiles feels selfish because he doesn’t mind cooking or doing chores but he had enough of that at home and was hoping to relax at college.

“Hey, see you tonight?” he asks, Derek waves in response.

Stiles goes to class, the pit of his stomach rebelling with every step. Why are things different now? Derek doesn’t want to date Stiles. He just wants to get his family off his back.

Concentration is out the window, so Stiles just spends all his class time thinking up the various scenarios that his and Derek’s plot could go so, so sideways.

By the time he makes it back to an empty and sparkling apartment, he’s nearer to a panic attack than he has ever been in the last three years including the whole fiasco with his first roommate during freshman year.

Stiles goes to wash his face, hoping that the cold shocks his system enough for him to stave off the attack, but Derek finds him there a few hours later, and Stiles has no memory of it.

Derek gentles him through the remainder of his attack, sets him up on the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and his favorite movie, and then just sits in silence while Stiles tries to process the fact that he just had a goddamn panic attack over pretend dating his roommate.

After another movie, Derek moves onto the couch, letting Stiles snuggle into his side.

“All good?” he asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “I will be though.” He waits for a few minutes, long enough for Derek to lean against him and start drowsing. “Tell me about your family.”

Derek yawns. “Well, you know Laura, the one who’s celebrating. She’s older than me, by like a million years. Made her insufferable growing up. And then there’s Cora, who’s about four years younger than me. We were rivals growing up. Every crush I had, she had too. And she’s kissed about half of them. I have a couple older brothers who are even older than Laura and even more insufferable, but in the way that us younger Hales are the dirt under their shoes. Especially my youngest sister. She’s the baby of the family and the most normal. But I guess it’s because my parents were tired when they got around to raising her.”

“Hmm, so many Hales to meet.” Stiles’ heart beats extra hard at that. Not only does he have to pretend to date Derek, but he has to pretend to date Derek in front of—Stiles counts on his fingers—seven Hales that aren’t Derek. Five sibling Hales and two parent Hales.

“And my uncle Peter,” Derek adds, drowsily. “He’s a dickhead. He’s also as old as my brothers but he was far more invested in causing drama with the younger Hales.”

“Laura too?”

Derek nods. “Laura especially. He almost wasn’t invited to her wedding. I will be very surprised if he doesn’t do something that gets him kicked out of her anniversary dinner.”

“And you want me to meet them?”

“Well,” Derek hedges, and that hurts so much and so viscerally that Stiles climbs off the couch and goes to the kitchen to pretend to drink a glass of water from the tap. Derek follows him after a minute. “Look, it’s not that I don’t want you to meet them. You’re my best friend. It’s just that they don’t have the greatest track record with people I bring home.”

“What, like I’m not good enough for you?” Stiles fans the flare of anger growing in his chest. Anything but another panic attack is preferred.

Derek sighs. “It’s a dumb test. I think everyone goes through it, but I don’t know because I don’t participate. I mean, it’s dumb to make your sister’s boyfriend hate her family when before he wanted to be with her, right? It’s like we’re trying to scare them off.”

“So like they’re not good enough for the family,” Stiles repeats.

Derek’s shoulders fall. “I guess. I always hated it, so I wouldn’t bring anyone home so that they couldn’t do that to them.”

“Partners,” Stiles points out.

“What?”

“You said ‘sister’s boyfriend,’ so this assholery only happens with potential partners. Is that it?”

Derek frowns at him before nodding, understanding dawning on his face. “Yeah. That’s it.”

“So, I’ve never met your family because…?”

The absolute look of panic that flashes across Derek’s face is in parts thrilling and heartbreaking to see.

“I understand,” Stiles says. “Well, it just means that I truly am the right choice of friend to take home to mother.”

Derek barks out a strangled laugh. “Yeah, sure. Please don’t call my mom ‘Mother.’ It makes her unreasonably angry. I think she thinks it makes her sound old. I think she sounds older when my nieces and nephews call her grandma.”

“How many nieces and nephews do you have?” Stiles asks, suddenly, acutely aware of just how much he doesn’t know about Derek. It makes him feel like a chronic over sharer and like Derek doesn’t fully trust him.

Derek shrugs. “I think Laura has three kids and my brothers each have two, but that was last Christmas so they could all have more on the way. I have five nieces and two nephews that I know of.”

“And we’re driving down to Chula Vista, right?”

Derek looks relieved, grabbing at Stiles’ floatation device of a conversation change. “Yeah, yes! Definitely. I mean, it’s about seven hours. We could take a flight down, it’d probably be quicker, but more expensive. And besides, this means that we can leave whenever either of us want to.”

“Yeah, how’s that going to work?” Stiles points, and they head back to the couch. Derek sits, angled so that his knee is brushing Stiles’. “Do I just say, ‘Laura insulted me, I want to go back to college now’?”

“Absolutely yes. If any of my family makes you feel uncomfortable in any way, let me know, and we’ll leave as soon as possible.”

It’s a nice reassurance, and Stiles hopes to assuage all his fears as easily, so he and Derek spend the rest of the night, until Derek falls asleep, discussing the finer matters of how to “date” a Hale.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

The rest of the week until Derek’s sister’s tenth anniversary dinner blurs by. Lots of packing for what is essentially just a day and a half, getting Boyd to agree to look in on the apartment even though they have no pets or plants that require sitting, and arguing over whose car they’re taking. In the end, Derek agrees to allow Stiles to drive his Camaro for a short stint, and they depart, happily, on Friday after classes.

The drive is uneventful, even when Derek oversleeps the first leg and Stiles ends up driving two thirds of the way to their destination. Derek doesn’t even grump about it, just smiles dopily until he notices Stiles looking at him, and then he steps on the gas.

They pull into the drive of an enormous house at about 11:00 pm. The whole house is lit up. Stiles snorts awake to stare at it.

“That’s your house?” he squeaks.

Derek shifts, uncomfortable. “My parents’ house,” he says. “They’re rich. I’m not.”

“It’s a big house.”

“Yeah. That’s because my uncle and his family live with them, and I think Cora still lives at home and so does Laura and her family.”

“And you? Are you going to live at home when we graduate come spring?”

Derek doesn’t answer. Instead, he opens his door, shuts off the engine, and pops the trunk.

Almost immediately, the door opens and a very pregnant woman waddles out to stare at them, her hands fisted on her hips. The light from the porch illuminates her perfectly.

Derek hands Stiles his suitcase and then starts up the stairs. When he reaches the woman, he takes a step back.

“Cora?”

“Yeah, dumbass. Who else would it be?”

“But aren’t you dating what’s-her-name?”

“Lydia, and yes. We decided we would use sperm donors.” Cora rolls her eyes. “You would know all this if you talked to us more than just at the holidays.”

Chastised, Derek ducks his head. “Sorry.”

Stiles thinks it’s been awkward long enough, so he sticks out his hand. “Stiles Stilinski. Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Hale.”

“What kind of a name is Stiles?” Cora asks.

Derek clears his throat. “He’s my boyfriend. And Stiles is a nickname.”

Cora gives Derek a flat look. “Your boyfriend?”

Derek nods. He looks so nervous. He hasn’t looked this nervous since he and Stiles were paired together after the first rooming fiasco.

“Well,” Cora eyes Stiles with a disapproving glare, “I guess you’d better come in and meet the rest of the family. The ones that are awake anyway. Be extra quiet: the kids are asleep.”

Inside is just as opulent as the outside, perhaps more because inside is completely lit up and doesn’t have to battle the darkness of night.

There are portraits of what must be the Hales and their families everywhere, tasteful crystal décor, and polished marble floors.

It’s very austere, and Stiles understands why Derek said his parents were rich but not him. Stiles has seen how Derek chooses to decorate, and it’s in warm tones with soft surfaces and very limited bits of chrome.

Twin sweeping staircases stand guard at the end of the foyer, leading up to what presumably is more austere marble and crystal, severe lines of cold.

Two handsome people, the woman is an elgant black gown, the man in a black suit, Windsor knot in his silver tie, stand in front of the staircases. Cora stops next to them, says something lowly, and then heads upstairs. Nervously, Stiles clings to his suitcase and follows as Derek walks, spine straight, face blank, toward what must be his parents.

His mother lifts her head, and Derek stops in his tracks.

“Wonderful of you to join us, Derek,” she says, like she’s a queen surveying her subjects and finding them very lacking. Stiles had thought his clothing, a dark t-shirt covered with an open blue flannel shirt and khakis, was fine in Berkeley. Here, it’s completely out of place. Derek’s outfit of a maroon shirt and dark slacks looks a little less out of place, but far too casual for this foyer.

“Mom, Dad,” Derek returns, and it is so incongruous with the image they’re presenting that Stiles has to stifle a hysterical laugh.

After a few more moments, Derek’s parents break, and smiling, they all but run to Derek and hug him at the same time. Derek’s father disentangles himself first, turning to Stiles and offering his hand for a shake.

“So this is the man who’s caught our little Derek’s heart?”

Derek flushes at his father’s words, but he doesn’t disagree.

Mr. Hale grins, using Stiles’ hand to tug him into a quick hug. “Welcome to the family, Stiles.”

“Uh, thanks?” Stiles doesn’t wriggle free, but it’s a near thing. Derek must realize how out of place he’s feeling, still reeling from the complete change in demeanor, because he laces his fingers through Stiles’, grounding him.

Talia nods at their hands. “And how is the relationship? Single rooms?”

Stiles coughs to cover another laugh. He and Derek share a bedroom in their apartment—it was cheaper than two bedrooms—so they should be okay sharing a room. A bed might be another matter, but they’ve been living together at college, so if they’re dating, they should already be comfortable with seeing each other naked, having morning erections around each other, and all those other embarrassing things no one ever talks about happening when people start having sex with each other.

Derek blushes. “It’s a little new, the relationship, but it’s strong. We can be trusted to be in the same room.”

“It’s late,” Derek’s father says. “Let’s get you boys settled, and then we can all talk tomorrow.” He looks at Derek with kindness in his eyes. “I can’t wait to hear what you’ve been up to.”

The room he and Derek are deposited into is medium sized. Stiles would have thought all rooms in the house would be enormous. Derek watches him studying it before explaining, “I went through a phase where I didn’t want anything from my parents, so they moved me in here. It used to be a closet, but it was the smallest they were willing to let me be without me moving out.”

“How old were you?”

Derek shrugs. “I was ten.” He frowns at Stiles’ sudden chuckle. “I was very self-righteous. I thought we were bad because we were rich and I didn’t want to be.” Quieter, he adds, “I was very bullied in school.”

“So was I,” Stiles reveals. “I always pretended that it didn’t bother me, but it did. It’s why I chose Berkeley. Close enough to go home to see my dad, but far enough away that I didn’t have to see my tormentors again.”

“I’m glad we found each other,” Derek says. He points at his bed, a single twin. “You can have the bed. I’ve got an inflatable mattress around here somewhere. I can get that blown up and sleep on that.”

Stiles is too tired to argue. It’s only a little after 11:00 pm, but they’ve been driving for most of the day, and he just feels under stimulated and uninterested in anything except brushing the gnarly taste of garlic pretzels out of his mouth and collapsing into a deep, refreshing sleep.

“Bathroom?”

Derek points down the hall, and Stiles takes his travel bag with him. He’s not sure what he’s expecting when he opens the door, but it certainly isn’t a soft coral pink bathroom with matching rugs, toilet cover, and shower curtain. It’s hideous. Stiles loves it.

Everything was getting a little too marble for his liking. This shows a human side to the Hales.

Because he’s Stiles, he snoops a little. Finds magazines in a holder on top of the toilet. Gross. Finds extra soaps and feminine products hidden in the cabinet under the sink. Cool. Other spare products and towels are kept behind a closed door. Good.

Overall, the bathroom passes muster enough that he feels comfortable scrubbing his teeth clean, scraping his tongue, and washing all evidence down the rose quartz-colored sink.

Derek comes in before Stiles finishes drying his hands on the fluffy, rose-scented towel.

He does a double-take at the room, digs under the sink for a little while, and stands up. “We’d better leave no evidence that we were ever here,” he says, ominously. “The bathroom’s been redone since I was last here at Christmas. I think that means, especially because her favorite color is pink, that this bathroom is Lydia’s and we shouldn’t ever be caught in here.”

“How unhygienic,” Stiles replies, pointing at the magazines. Derek claps a hand over his mouth to stifle the sudden bark of laughter.

“I agree. But honestly, it’s probably a lot more hygienic than your phone.”

Stiles bumps shoulders and then heads back to the room. Derek has indeed found and inflated an air mattress. Stiles crawls onto it to test the bounce, and oh, there’s his pillow. For some reason it’s on Derek’s bed. He grabs it, tucks it under his head, and just like that, out like a light.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

Stiles wakes up to a warm body next to his, someone’s leg wound around his, someone’s head on his shoulder. He blinks up at the ceiling, watching as the sunrise fills the room with a lovely, rosy glow.

Then he remembers where he is and what’s supposed to be going on and sits up, arms flailing as he tries to dislodge himself from a very deeply asleep Derek.

He hears a clicking sound, and his head snaps around to find an elegant strawberry blonde in very tight blue wrap dress aiming a phone at him.

“Whasit?” he grumbles, glad that both he and Derek apparently decided to sleep in their clothes. Usually, they’re both strip down to boxers kind of guys. It makes it hard for Stiles to sleep sometimes when he just really wants to lick Derek’s abs or jerk off over him. And apparently there goes his morning wood.

“It’s just payback,” the strawberry blonde says, loud even though it’s obviously early. Derek jerks awake, snorting, and gasping like someone doused him with cold water.

It doesn’t help Stiles’ inappropriate boner at all.

“Payback for what?” Stiles asks. He’s never met this woman. Why does she need payback?

“Oh hey, Lydia,” Derek says, gruff. Sexy morning voice alert. “What brings you to our room today?”

“Someone used my bathroom.”

“Didn’t used to be your bathroom,” Derek responds. He turns to Stiles. “Stiles, this is Cora’s fiancée, Lydia. Lydia, this is my boyfriend, Stiles.”

“Hmm, so he is real,” Lydia remarks. She snaps another picture, says, “Stay out of my bathroom or I’ll expose your sleeping arrangements to Mom and Dad.”

Derek yawns, lazily slipping an arm around Stiles’ shoulders and using the lax grip to tug him back down. “Mom and Dad already know we’re sharing a room. It stands to reason that we’re comfortable sharing a bed too. After all, we’ve been living together for almost four years now.”

Lydia huffs and flounces out of the room, but Stiles saw on her face; she lost and she knew it. And she didn’t mind.

Derek adjusts his grip, nuzzles into Stiles’ neck again. “Hope this is okay?” he murmurs.

Stiles swallows hard. “Yeah,” he grits out. “This is perfect.”

Still, Derek rolls away from him. “I’m going to get up now. It’s the perfect time for a quick run. There’s a bathroom down stairs, third door on the left. Ask my mom or dad if you can’t find it. Don’t trust anything Lydia or Cora tell you.”

He grabs a pair of shorts and a t-shirt from his suitcase and heads out.

Stiles flops back on the bed, wondering if he’d done something wrong. Derek’s leaving feels like dismissal and Stiles isn’t sure if it’s because he was being a little too enthusiastic, i.e. the boner, or not enthusiastic enough.

It feels horrible, like a pit is growing in Stiles’ stomach, and he realizes that he won’t be able to maintain the charade of being Derek’s boyfriend without someone on his side.

But he’s in Chula Vista, not Beacon Hills. His dad is a whole ten hours away, and Stiles hadn’t realized that he only has one friend in the whole world.

How Derek is more sociable than him, he doesn’t know. All he knows is that if he doesn’t spill to someone, he’s going to break down, and the public breakup won’t be public nor a breakup.

He’s sort of saved when Cora knocks on the door and comes in before he can do more than say, “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to apologize for Lydia,” Cora says. She sits on the bed, cradling her stomach. “Mom and Dad are humoring her because her parents just got divorced and she’s not taking it well.”

Stiles studies her. “You weren’t this nice last night,” he says, hoping that she isn’t offended. When she throws her head back and laughs, he lets out a little sigh of relief.

“No. I’m not a night person.” She rubs at her stomach, catches herself, and sits on her hands. “Look, the baby likes to tap dance on my bladder, and whoever said morning sickness was only morning or just in the first trimester lied their fucking head off. I was startled when Derek brought you home. He’s been talking about his roommate nonstop. I actually thought you were dating before now, but he never said your name, always claimed we’d think you were imaginary if he did that.”

“I get it,” Stiles says. “Whenever someone stumbles over my real name, I tell them I go by Stiles, and every time, I get, ‘What kind of a name is Stiles?’ instead of ‘Cool, something easier to say.’ It’s discouraging.”

Cora’s hand comes up to pat at her belly, and she frowns down at it. “I swear I’m not usually this tactile.”

“It’s okay. It’s your body. Hormones and all.”

“Tell me why you decided to date my brother. Did he finally get his head out of his ass and ask you?”

Stiles coughs. “Uh, sort of?” He winces. “I mean, yeah, he finally asked and we made it official, but I mean, I haven’t dated anyone since high school, and Derek’s never been with anyone else as far as I know.”

“That’s it exactly.” Cora points at Stiles and he looks down at himself. He’s not bad looking—if his dad can be trusted—and he’s been making more of an effort with even his casual clothes since he and Derek began living together. “Derek doesn’t date. So why you? No offense.”

“Some taken,” Stiles replies. He shrugs at her. “I don’t know why.”

“Oh, I think you do.” Cora hauls herself up, shakes her head, and sinks back to the bed. She pats next to her, and Stiles hesitantly joins her.

She leans in close. “So, how much is he paying you?”

“Wh-what?”

Cora has a gleam in her eyes that makes Stiles entirely uncomfortable to be trapped here with her. “I’m guessing that you and he aren’t really dating, but since it’s Laura’s tenth wedding anniversary this weekend, he doesn’t want to be bothered by the copious aunts and grand-aunts that like to pinch his cheeks and ask when he’s bringing home his bride. Ergo, you, because my brother may be many things, a coward, spineless, and utterly useless at getting dates, but he does have a soft spot for you.”

Stiles stands up. “Derek isn’t spineless or a coward,” he says, angry at her. “Why would you even say that? Do you even know your brother? He was terrified to come to college. I don’t know why. He hasn’t shared that with me yet. But when I needed a roommate after my first roommate turned out to be the biggest bastard on campus, he stepped up. We’ve been friends since. It was a natural progression of our relationship because, yeah, we fell in love with each other.”

Cora grabs his wrist. “Don’t leave. Not yet. I’m sorry.” She tugs, and he sits. He’s breathing hard, heart beating a little too fast. He doesn’t know why he got so angry except for the fact that he knows the true Derek, the one who likes cooking and cleaning and studying microbiology and taking life art with Stiles just so he’d know someone in the class.

Cora takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry I said that about Derek. I just needed to know.”

“Know what?”

“That you love him too.”

Stiles blinks. Derek doesn’t love him. Not like that.

“I can see that you don’t believe me, but it’s true. Derek loves you. He won’t admit it but it’s in his voice when he talks about you. It’s in the way he won’t let anyone call you imaginary but also won’t reveal your name, because he’s trying to protect you. I don’t know. I do know my brother, and I know that he loves you, and you love him too.”

Stiles doesn’t even know where the tears come from, but he finds himself sobbing on Cora’s shoulder as he confesses that Derek did actually hire him precisely for what Cora accused.

She listens patiently.

Then. “You’re both the biggest idiots.” She throws a roll of toilet paper at him. “Kleenexes get a little rough on the nose when you’re prone to hysterical fits,” she explains to his raised eyebrow. “Quadruple ply is a Godsend.”

Once he’s dried his face and blown his nose, Cora takes his hand again. “Look, I get it. I do. Our family can be overbearing. It was hell keeping them off Lydia’s and my backs long enough to have the discussion about children. And we’re not even married yet. But trust me on this: Derek does love you.”

“So how do I get him to ask me?” Stiles asks. “I mean, after all this. We’re supposed to have a public breakup after this weekend.”

Cora laughs. “Mom and Dad are going to be so pissed they let you sleep in the same room if you do that.”

“I’m serious. I’m supposed to break up with Derek so that he can, I don’t know, save face with his family. I guess because they’ll never see me again.”

She nods. “Makes sense.” She tilts her head, chewing on her lip. “Okay, I’ve got it: instead of breaking up with him, you propose to him. Confuse him. If he really likes you, he’ll probably say yes, and you can be engaged for however long you like. If he still wants to break up with you, then he can’t do it without a little shit sticking to him.

“Oh, I know! You can do it when we go to the mall!” To Stiles’ confused face, she explains, “It’s a tradition to do a scavenger hunt in the mall after a celebration. After we celebrate Laura’s anniversary, we’re going to the mall. It’ll be the perfect place to propose. Or breakup.Whichever it ends up being.”

“One problem: how am I supposed to live with Derek if he says no?”

Cora shrugs. “I don’t think he will, but you could make him move out if he does.”

“Another problem,” Stiles says. Cora rolls her eyes. “I don’t have a ring. I don’t even know Derek’s ring size.”

“That’s easy enough. I have everyone’s ring sizes. I’m the official jewelry expert in the family. That’s why.” Stiles nods. The Hales are so weird, but he finds it endearing. He supposes the Stilinskis would be just as weird to the Hales with their traditions. “Anyway, I’ve got the perfect ring for you to use.” She struggles up and then waddles toward a room three doors down the hall from Derek’s closet room. Stiles waits for her at the door. When she comes back, she tosses a small black box at him.

He flips it open and stares down at the silver band set with a single black cubic zirconium stone. Cora’s right, it’s perfect. It’s neutral enough to go with Derek’s wardrobe full of warm tones and dark pants, but also enough of a statement to bring attention to the fact that he’s wearing an engagement ring. Classy but not overstated.

Derek does have a few bright shirts mixed in, but he doesn’t wear them anywhere but around the apartment. Stiles thinks it’s because they’re gifts from him and Derek likes how soft they are. It makes Stiles unreasonably happy whenever he catches Derek wearing one of them.

“Are you positive he’ll say yes?” Stiles asks. He really doesn’t want to destroy his and Derek’s relationship. Although, he has a feeling that they’re already way past that.

“About seventy-five percent,” Cora says, and because they’re at her room, she shuts the door in his face before he can complain about those odds.

Stiles wanders back to Derek’s room. He keeps staring at the ring. It’s too soon to propose, right?

They’ve only just started dating, right?

They’re not really dating. It won’t be a real proposal. Right?

He closes the box and hides it in his pillow. Then, he grabs a change of clothes and his travel bag and heads to the downstairs bathroom for a quick shower.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

Over the course of the day, Stiles is introduced to far more people than he ever expected to meet, and is frankly exhausted by the time they all pile into vehicles, he and Derek riding with Derek’s frankly frightening Uncle Peter and his partner, Freddie, to go to the restaurant.

The ring box is secure in his pocket, and he does his best not to touch it, aware that as the “new” significant other, he’s being subjected to a lot of interrogations, hugs, and all around suspicion. Through it all, Derek stays by his side, directing him away from the more prying of the aunts, or having him hide in an empty room until someone can make an announcement that makes Derek’s boyfriend seem like old news.

Finally though, they all sit at six tables pushed together, a buffet against the back wall of the room. The restaurant is owned by a pair of great aunts who insist on Derek and Stiles sitting next to them so they can gossip about the changes at California University-Berkeley.

“You know, Marsha was a co-founder of the first LGBTQ organization,” the more wizened one states. “How’d that go for you, dear?”

Marsha rolls up her sleeve to show off a large scar. “Thirty stitches and an expulsion.” She winks at Stiles. “And I’d do it all over again because it’s how I met the love of my life.”

He smiles politely. “I’m glad times have changed,” he says. “I don’t think I could scar as neat as that.”

“Well, that’s Diana’s doing. Such steady hands even as she berated me for putting my life in danger.” Marsha sighs wistfully. “Some things don’t change.” With sharp eyes, she pokes at Stiles’ soul, and he shudders at the sensation of being seen and known. “You may think you’re not scarred, but you are.” She turns to Derek. “Make sure you treasure this boy, eh?”

Derek nods almost frantically. He grabs Stiles’ and his aunts’ glasses. “Refills?”

“How long have you been together?” Marsha asks, and Stiles knows he should stick to the script he and Derek came up with, but he can’t. So, he leans in, like he’s telling a big secret, and whispers, “Three and a half years.”

Diana whacks at Marsha’s shoulder. “That means they’ve been steady since they met,” she excitedly exclaims. Stiles flushes at the sudden eyes on their end of the table.

“What I meant,” he stutters out, under the heavy, heavy gaze of, like, a million Hales, “is that we’ve been dancing around each other for years. We’ve only just decided to make it official.”

Derek plops down the glasses. “Don’t scare him,” he chastises his aunts, and by extension, all the nosy, nosy relatives. “I actually happen to love him, and I’d appreciate not having to find him again when you all chase him away.”

As if practiced, all the Hales go back to their own plates and conversation.

Stiles leans into Derek, gratefully sipping at his Sprite. Derek leans back a little, and they balance nicely. Until Stiles remembers what he’s planning to do during the after-dinner excursion. Then, he just sits there while Derek chats amicably, offers to refill Stiles’ plate, and almost holds his hand whenever he gets up from the table.

After the meal, Peter and Freddie give them a ride to the mall. Surprisingly, Peter hadn’t done anything to get kicked out, like Derek had predicted. Stiles thinks it’s because whenever Peter opened his mouth, Freddie squeezed his leg. Someday, Stiles thinks, if things work out, he and Derek could be like that, communicating with just a touch.

At the mall, Laura and her husband, Jordan, hand out a sheet of paper with things to find, and the Hales disperse, a literal army of at least thirty people, led by Marsha and Diana on their motorized wheelchairs.

Stiles allows Derek to hold his hand as they follow along more sedately. Stiles isn’t going to participate in the scavenger hunt, too nervous and afraid that if he uses it as a distraction, he’ll forget why he’s really here.

They get to the second level, and Derek points out a few things on the list, but Stiles has had enough. He sees Cora and Lydia in the crowd and makes his way toward them. Cora catches his eye and nods.

Stiles takes a deep breath, drops Derek’s hand, and then kneels down before he can think about it.

Derek turns to see what’s up and claps his hands over his eyes, like that’s going to make Stiles stand up again.

Deep breath in, deep breath out. “Derek, love, can you look at me?”

Derek shakes his head. He’s blushing, hard. Probably because they’re in the middle of a crowd. Apparently neither of them quite care for the public spectacle. Good to know.

Stiles pulls out the ring box. He takes another deep breath, teetering on the edge of backing out and letting Derek think it was a prank.

Behind Derek, Cora and Lydia both stand, hands clasped together, staring wide-eyed. Cora knows it’s not fake, so why does she look so invested?

Faintly, Stiles hears someone say, “Go for it!” So he gathers his conviction and opens his mouth.

“Please open your eyes,” he says, softly. When Derek does, Stiles is surprised to see tears there. “Derek Hale, I love you. I know we haven’t been dating for very long, but I already know I want to marry you.” And suck your dick, but Stiles doesn’t say that out loud. There are children present for God’s sake. “We go together like two things that you wouldn’t think would be good, but then they end up being the perfect pair. And I don’t ever want to give that up. Please say yes?”

Derek is already nodding, his expression goes from obviously embarrassed to fond and soft, in a way Stiles is entirely unused to seeing from him, even after living together for most of three and a half years.

Behind Derek, Cora and Lydia begin jumping up and down, squealing. Startled, Derek glances back at them before quickly focusing on Stiles again. He helps pull him to his feet and then wordlessly extends his hand. Stiles slides the ring onto his finger. Cora was right about the size and about the style. It fits perfectly, and Derek smiles at it.

Something warm blooms in Stiles’ chest, and it’s because he put the ring and the smile on Derek.

And oh fuck. Oh fuck, he just proposed to Derek fucking Hale and has gotten a yes. Fuck seventy-five percent. Fuck being unsure if his love is unrequited. Stiles leaps into Derek’s arms and is met with a completely off-kilter, totally unbalanced, completely perfect imperfect mashing of lips and noses, and they tumble to the ground, Stiles on top.

Derek is laughing, patting at him, but he also isn’t saying get up.

That’s Lydia, tugging at them. “Do you know how many germs are on this floor?” she grouses, but despite the hard edge from this morning, she keeps smiling at them like she actually likes them.

The rest of the Hales appear suddenly—probably summoned by a text—and all of them, not a one of them looks angry, they all look happy, pleased, already singing congratulations.

Cora raises her phone to show them that she recorded it all, everything, including what was their first kiss.

Oh shit. He’s so fucked. But he’s so happy too.

Cora’s right that they can be engaged for however long they need. At least they are engaged.

                                                                                                                    ~ * ~

The rest of Saturday passes in a whirlwind, and Derek never stops smiling. The whole drive back to Berkeley on Sunday is spent in contented bliss, and when Derek isn’t driving, he just stares at the ring.

About an hour from their apartment, Derek pulls over, and Stiles jerks awake.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Derek says, but Stiles can hear it in his voice. Something’s wrong.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asks again, gentling his tone.

Derek takes off the ring and hands it to him. “Thanks for that. I really liked it.”

“Liked what?” Stiles stares at the ring. It looks wrong in his hand and not on Derek’s finger. It’s only been there about twenty-four hours. It shouldn’t look wrong, but it does. “Is this about the agreement?”

“Yeah.” Derek clears his throat, a clear sign that he’s about to start crying. He looks heartbroken. “The agreement. I’m sorry. I don’t think I can do this.”

“Do what?” Stiles asks. He turns the ring over, grabs Derek’s hand, and slides it back on. “Your sister already told me that you’re in love with me. I’m in love with you. I proposed-proposed to you. If you really don’t want to marry me, at least wait until we’re home before you break my heart.”

Derek just stares at him.

Stiles waves his hand by his head. Maybe he’s just too tired of this damn charade that they never should have done. Maybe he just wants something for himself for once and he’s willing to fight for it. “I know, you told me don’t believe what Cora says, but she also said you talked about me incessantly ever since you met me. Dude, we’re in love with each other, and yes it sucks that it took making up this fake dating thing for us to realize it, but if you think that I’m going to just roll over and say, ‘Hey, that was great, let’s never do it again,’ then you’re sorely mistaken.”

Derek covers the ring with his other hand, watching as it peeks through his fingers. “You’re in love with me?”

Stiles feels like snapping, but doesn’t. “Yes.”

Derek nods. “Thanks. I-I love you too.” He puts the Camaro in drive.

The rest of the drive is spent in silence. Stiles doesn’t feel relief at things being in the open nor at the sight of the ring on Derek’s finger where it belongs.

Instead, he feels dread rising. Something is going to happen when they get back to their apartment, and it might just be the end of them. Stupid, stupid, they just confessed their feelings for each other. Things should be looking up, not down.

Derek parks and immediately goes to grab their suitcases from the trunk. Stiles heads up the stairs to unlock the front door.

“So, I want a redo,” Derek remarks suddenly, his tone forced into easy and cheery.

Stiles pauses where he’s unlocking the door. “Redo?”

Derek moves closer, shoves the suitcases aside, and brackets Stiles’ head with his hands. He leans in until their faces are just an inch apart. “A redo.” And he kisses Stiles, and even though the doubt is still there, warring in Stiles with the warmth of knowing he has Derek’s love, it gets a little smaller when he falls back against the door and Derek follows him in.

“I am gonna suck your cock so good,” he murmurs against Derek’s lips.

“Not if I suck yours first,” Derek returns.

And that is the story of how Stiles and Derek finally stopped pining and started boning.

Cora tells the story of how they got together at their wedding five years later, conveniently leaving out the part about being seventy-five percent sure that Derek was in love with Stiles, but Stiles forgives her because while she may have been only seventy-five percent sure, he and Derek are both one hundred percent in love and getting married.

~ The End ~