#and it’s fine; me doing anything is kinda an act of charity I’m not expecting something back from someone specific

[kavehater]

Truthfully it would be easier if I just isolate myself from everyone simply because after so long of just shoving things down and being told to shove things down and being told to get over it and stop being sensitive I’ve become so much more sensitive after being so unfeeling and it’s ruining everything

Not even having aventurine could fix this 😔🙏 LOLLL

[raineydays411]

My fathers daughter

prologue

Tony Stark x daughter! reader

Summary: By all definitions you were a daddy’s girl. It’s been you and him since your mom left you both. But what happens when your both forced to face your past?

a/n: y’all know i can’t resist a good crossover

If there had to be a face for daddys girl, you’d be the poster child. 

Ever since you came into Tony’s life, you and him have been attached by the hip.

You were with him through everything.

When he became Iron Man, when he joined the avengers, and even during civil war. Even though it hurt you to see your family be torn apart, you could never betray your father. Then again, you have to admit that you were happy that the avengers compromised and were able to get back together. Earning you a new family member in Bucky. You were happy. Happy with the life you have with your dad and avengers. 

Which is why your mother suddenly reappearing and demanding to be in your life kinda of peeved you off. 

Let’s start from the beginning. 

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It started off with a gala. 

Some bougie charity event that rich assholes attend to donate large sums of money, not out of kindness, but only to show just how rich they are. You hated these types of events.  You hated the fake smiles and false interest in your life. All they wanted was to get close to your dad. They even try to set you up with their snobby stuck up kids. You hated it. 

And here you were, trying to find a way to get out of this boring conversation with some snob from Beverly hills. You can see your dad laughing at you from across the room. 

“You know, you look a lot like Mrs. Wayne.” He suddenly says, looking at you.

“Who?” You ask, suddenly paying attention.

“Mrs. Wayne, you know, Bruce Wayne's wife.”

You know who Bruce Wayne was. Your dad absolutely detestes the man. He never really told you why. He just said to never trust a Wayne. You also know that he’s Batman and his army of children are/were Robin. It was pretty obvious and rather easy to figure out. Then again, you were able to hack into the Bat computers main systems. They really need to update their firewalls. 

“Um no I didn’t know that he had a wife to be honest.” You reply, not really interested.

“You can pass as her daughter you know? She is very beautiful. As are you.” He says in a flirty tone. 

You roll your eyes, seeing your father finishing up a conversation and make your move, but then you hear 

“Oh look, there's the Wayne family right there.” 

Causing the attention to turn to the main entrance. There you saw Bruce Wayne. Tall, handsome, and charismatic. He was smiling, waving at the host. Next to him, his oldest son Dick. Another very handsome man, Tall with blue eyes and raven hair. Sending charming smiles to the crowds of women. Then Tim Drake, too focused on his phone to pay attention to the crowds, and finally Damian Wayne. A small boy with a sharp scowl. To his left, you can barely make out the form of his wife and his daughter, Cassandra Cain. You can also see Stephanie Brown chatting excitedly to Mrs. Wayne, who you still couldn’t see.

“Jeez, they brought the whole cavalry.” You mutter, looking at the star struck boy you were talking to.

You roll your eyes. The way people worship this family is strange. They act as if they are royalty or gods. You look at your father, expecting him to be making a sarcastic face or something. But that’s not what you saw. No, you saw a look on his face that you haven’t seen on his face ever. That’s when you walked up to him.

“Daddy...are you okay?” You asked cautiously.  He turned to you, shocked.

“Y/n!” He practically shouts, “ I’m okay, are you okay? We can leave right now if you’re not okay?” 

You frown in confusion, “ Umm yeah, I’m fine...”

“Good, Good. We’re going to leave now, this gala kinda blows. DOn’t you think?”

You can see his eyes dart to the Waynes to you. He looks...panicked. It was weird to you. Usually he keeps his cool during events like these. 

“Um sure..I just need to go to the restroom first” You say, seeing him nod. You walk off, shaking off the concern you have for your father. As you push through the crowds, you can hear them whisper as you passed. Something about Mrs. Wayne. 

You shake your head, “Can’t they talk about anything else??” 

Then you finally find the bathroom. You walk in, expecting it to be empty, only to be faced with Cassandra Cain and Stephanie Brown. They were chatting near the sinks as you walking into the stall. After doing your business, you walked out to the sink, going to wash your hands, but you saw Stephanie freeze, then nudge Cassandra. They both stared at you as you washed your hands and went to dry them. You give them a side eye, wondering why they were staring at you so hard. 

“Um hi?” You say carefully, the jump not expecting you to speak.

“Oh! Hello Im Stephanie and this is Cass” Stephanie says with a smile. “ You’re Y/n Stark right?”

“Uh yeah...Its nice to meet you dudes” You say quickly, already ready to walk out the restroom. 

“I’m sorry for staring, it’s just that...you look a lot like her mother” She says gesturing to Cassandra. 

You chuckle, “ Uh yeah so I’ve heard...hey I gotta go...”

“Oh right! Sorry heh” Stephanie laughs nervously, “It was great to meet you”

“Yeah” You agree half heartedly, “ You too”

And with that you go to find your father. You pass by the Wayne sons, only to see them take a double take when you pass them. 

“God that family is weird.” You mumble seeing your father talking to Bruce and his wife. He looked distressed and angry. You speed up, wanting to make sure your father doesn’t punch Bruce Wayne the way he looks like he's going to.

“Hey dad...um I’m ready to go.” You says with your back turned on the Waynes.

“Y/n..” Your dad says panic exploding on his face, “ Y/n sweetheart um...”

“Yn?” You hear a woman whisper.  You turn to see Bruce Wayne and...your mother. 

You remember the day she left. It was a sunny day. The kind of days that usually are in good memories and have happy endings. She was supposed to take you to the park so you can meet your dad there. You hardly saw her over the years, just every three months when she would come to the then Stark Tower to visit. But that say...that day was different. She had gotten a call, from who you don’t know, nut it seemed important. Because she left at that very moment and never came back. She never reached out, never called, texted or anything. Just radio silence. Your dad was heart broken.  He had hoped that one day she would move in with you and him, and you could be a family. He loved her with his whole heart, but she just didn’t love you both enough to stay. He was a mess after she left, and you picked up the pieces.

You were nine.

If it wasn’t for Pepper stepping in after witnessing one of his breakdowns, you don’t know what would’ve happened.

You stare at the woman who left you, who broke your fathers heart. Who broke your heart.

“Ms. Wayne.” you say curtly, taking pleasure in the way her face fell, “ Mr. Wayne, it’s lovely to see you again. If you’ll excuse me and my father, it seems like he’s not feeling too well.”

You weren’t lying, Tony looked like he was about to puke. His face was pale and he was kinda sweaty. So you wrapped your arm around him and lead him to the entrance, starting to pull out your phone to call Happy.

“Y/n wait!” Your mother cried out, pulling her arm away from Bruce and placing a hand in your shoulder. You jerked your shoulder out of her grasp.

“ Y/n, I know you’re mad at me” she starts, cringing when she hears you scoff, “ But wait a second. Let me look at you...my petal you’re so big.”

You turn and glare at her, “ Don’t call me that.”

“Oh Y/n, please—“You cut her off again.

“Hey i’m just going along with what you want. This is what you wanted right? No contact with us?”

You can see a crowd start to form around you, and you see the scattered Wayne’s push through it. They look at each other in confusion trying to understand how you seem to know their mother.

“ Of course that’s not what I wanted, oh petal I meant to call I just...” She trailed off

“Couldn’t be bothered?” you say harshly, “ I couldn’t care less. Just leave us alone. That should be easy for you.”

You feel your dad tug on your hand, and you turn to him. Eyes softening when you see the expression on his face.

“ Happys here kiddo.” He says softly. You nod and start to walk away. And you hear your mother protest, but you cut her off with a venomous,

“It was nice seeing you again Mom.”

and then you were gone. This time, leaving your mother behind and her confused husband and children.

[eclectickss]

Make Me Feel Special (1/2)

Pairing: Milf!Agatha Harkness x fem!reader

Warnings: Mommy issues/kink, sexual implications, major age gap (reader is of age)

Summary: You are angry at your best friend for turning down the opportunity for something that you would give your life for: a mother.

Word Count: 3K?

Link to Part 2

A/N: Not grammar checked at all! A blurb gone big!(still at writers block on PGATW) But requests are open! I’ve never done one before but i’m willing to try. <3

-

-

-

You entered the apartment and placed your keys in the dish and jacket on it’s hook, making your way into the kitchen to place your to-go food in the fridge. Jane sat at the island on the computer you shared, and you smiled.

“Hey, I picked up sandwiches for dinner. Hope that’s cool.”

“Yeah, sounds good.”

Your best friend didn’t look up, but it didn’t really bother you. Well, she was your only friend, but still.

You and Jane had been sharing the apartment for years now, The two of you working a good job to afford it and making a livable income. You had been close since high-school, due to your similar social status, but beyond the two of you, nobody was too good at making friends.

From what she had told you, Jane’s mom wasn’t around much when she was growing up. Jane was a teen pregnancy, and ever since she was born, her mom made no time for her daughter. Agatha, was her name.

Agatha came from a wealthy family, though. Her parents (Jane’s grandparents) wouldn’t allow her to use the family money for her child, much less anything else. She struggled with Jane, and therefore the two of them were ever close.

Agatha’s parents died when Jane was in high-school, so her mom inherited their wealth, but their relationship was past salvageable. At least in Jane’s eyes, it was.

Jane was always telling you about how bad of a mom Agatha was and about how you were lucky that you didn’t have to deal with someone like her. Jane didn’t understand though. You would had given anything to have someone like Agatha. Even if she wasn’t around to much, it was still better than nobody at all.

-

-

-

You were now setting the table for two as you pulled the sandwiches out of the fridge, also finding some strawberries to place at the table. You now were looking through the pantry for chips when you heard a knock at the door and Jane moving around to answer it.

“Mom?!” You heard at the door while you still had your head buried in the pantry. Your eyes widened at the name, never expecting to hear it in your life (in that context, at least). You thought Agatha was out of the picture. “What are you doing here?” You stayed silent as you listened from around the corner.

“Well, I think it’s long overdue that we had a talk, Jane, honey.” She sounded a little more raspy than you were expecting, but that doesn’t say much about someone who used to be an addict.

“We don’t do that, Mom. Anyways, now isn’t a good time.” You heard your friend sigh. The woman was your literal mother... you could at least give her five minutes, you thought.

“I want to start, honey. Please just let me in?”

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“C’mon, kiddo.” She begged, and you felt a little bad for how Jane was acting. You know her mom wasn’t a great person, but she was still her mom.

You never got to have one of those.

“If this is just you on another one of your sobriety stunts...”

“I’m really trying this time, Jane! I know I fucked up, baby, but please.”

“Fine.” Your friend grumbled. You heard increasing footsteps and your heart raced as you were about to meet the source of Jane’s complaints and drama.

You hurried to sit at the kitchen counter before the two women caught you snooping, but your gaze snaps up just in time to see Agatha Harkness walk into the room.

Jane might have always mentioned that her mother was any and all variations of a bitch, but she failed to mention how attractive the woman was. Her messy brown hair sat on top of an old purple cardigan and worn out jeans, followed by a pair of well-used slip-on shoes. The look together was not extremely flattering, but Agatha somehow pulled it together in a way that made your stomach turn. Your eyes raked her down, but you think she caught you when you met her gaze again. She smirked softly.

“Oh, I didn’t realize you had guests!” She says as her own eyes follow your figure, and you wonder if she’s just doing it to mock you or flatter you. She looks back up with a glimmer in her eye, and you decide on the latter option. Your face goes red, but you try and brush her actions off, not wanting to mistake it for anything else.

“Didn’t I say that this was a bad time?” Jane grumbled.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Harkness. My name is YN.” You smiled as you held out your hand.

“Call me Agatha, darling.” She stared into your eyes. “It’s so nice to finally meet one of Jane’s friends.” You panic under her gaze.

“We were just about to sit down for dinner, if you want to join us. We don’t have any food for you, but-“

“Oh, thank you... I was hoping I could talk to Jane in private, though.” She walked over to the table and took a seat.

“Whatever you have to say to me, you can say it to YN, too.” The two of you joined Agatha at the table.

A long moment of awkward silence passsed between the three of you before your guest finally spoke up.

“I want you in my life, Jane. For real this time.”

Nobody says anything, and dishes stop clattering.

“I know I shoulda done this earlier... hell, I shoulda done this when I got claim to my parent’s money, but I want to look after you. I never got the chance to do that when you were young... cause of all the drinking and working... but I can do that now. I’m ready.”

Jane sat with her mouth open and a half eaten sandwich forgotten on her plate.

“No, Mom, you shoulda done this from the moment I was conceived. You don’t get a second chance with me. I’m not giving you a second chance, or a third or a fourth or whatever number you wanna give yourself. You wanna know why? It’s because I already did that. And you let me down every single time.”

Agatha looked a little speechless.

“Fine, then.” She sighed. “I won’t bother you again.” But it hurt you to watch a daughter turn away her mother, when that was an opportunity that you wanted so badly. “Is it alright if I stay the night, though? It’s a long drive back to my place.”

Jane rolled her eyes, knowing that her mother was being dramatic, but didn’t want to put up with any more of her antics. “I better not see you in the morning. YN can get blankets for the couch.”

-

-

-

“Hey, Jane,” You sighed as you entered her room.

“Hey, YN. I’m sorry you had to deal with the shit show that is my mother. I can’t believe she just walked in here and expected me to accept her pathetic invitation.”

“No, it’s ok. She’s not that bad with me.”

“Well she just met you. I just don’t understand why she thought showing up unannounced would magically make me want a mother again. It’s fucked up.” Jane said, but you couldn’t sit there and watch her tear down something that you wish you had.

“Yeah,” you mumbled and rushed out of her room before she could say anything else.

You walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, then headed over to the sink for some tap water. The cool liquid rushed down your throat as you held down your tears, thankful that nobody was around.

“Hey, Honey,”

Shit. You forgot that Agatha was on the couch.

You turn around to see her meeting your gaze, although her eyes quickly found the way to the rest of your body.

“You doing alright, babygirl?” The nickname made you heat up. She spoke with concern and care; something that Jane chose to ignore, which made you feel bad for Agatha. You wish that Jane wouldn’t take for granted what her mother was trying to offer her.

“Uh... yeah... I guess.” You sigh, hopping up to sit on the counter as you watch the other woman fill her own glass at the sink. “Jane is just... being a little hard right now.” You chose your words carefully, not wanting to lose the trust of your friend but also wanting to gain the trust of another.

“What do you mean?” You realize the situation you have put yourself in.

“It’s just... I didn’t have a mom at all growing up. Or a dad. I had my shitty uncle... until he tossed me into the foster system. I had it real rough... and it still kinda is... but Jane has been helping. That’s why we’re friends at least. She might view me as a charity project, but i’m desperate, I guess.”

“What does all of this have to do with Jane being hard, hon?” She leaned onto the counter across from you.

“She didn’t really have a mom, either... growing up. No offense.”

Agatha shrugged. “I know.”

“But now that she’s given an opportunity to have one, she turns it down... and it makes me jealous. Mad. Angry.” You pause. “I know I’ll never get the chance at a mom, but she has one. And fuck, I would give so much to have that.”

“To have someone like me? A recovering drunk who treated their teen pregnancy like a joke?”Agatha sighed into her hands, but her words meant so much more to you than she may ever know.

“Yeah. To have someone like you. Someone who cares.” At that, she looked up with a new light in her eyes, but you don’t meet her gaze. You don’t want her to see the blush or desire written on your face, so instead, you pull a cigarette out from your jacket pocket.

She watches you as you hop down from the counter to get the lighter out of the junk drawer, paying attention to the way your body moves. You notice how her eyes follow you, but you don’t call her out on it, knowing you would do the same if the roles were reversed.

“You want a hit?” You lift your eyebrow as you raise the smoke to meet her gaze. A glint of humor is caught on her face, and you smirk.

“Sure... why not.” She says as you join her in leaning up against the counter. You bring the cigarette up to your mouth and click the lighter.

“So,” Agatha starts again, both of you a few puffs in. “How did you end up here with Jane?”

“Uhh... we met senior year of high-school. I was fucked up. Shit grades. Wasn’t going to graduate. Drug money to pay off... no job. Jane used your money to pay off my debt. She found me a job. Tutored me. Like I said, I felt like a charity project. But at least I graduated. We both work now and pay for this place together. Maybe it’s not great but we’re both better off than we were a few years ago.”

“Why didn’t she accept anything I tried to give her? Did she tell you?” Agatha was prying, but you didn’t mind.

“You mean after high-school? She didn’t want any help from you. In her words exactly... ‘She wasn’t there for me for the first 18 years of my life, so why should she help out now...’”

“And what do you think about that?”

“I didn’t grow up poor, Agatha. I grew up with nothing. I would have taken any of your offers in a heartbeat, no matter how guilty they made me feel.”

“Good girl.” She nearly whispers, and you turned to face her, but you couldn’t make anything out of the expression written on her face. Your own skin was hot and something was burning in your core, and you didn’t know what to think.

“I’m sorry... what did you just say?” You watched as she put the cigarette out, now giving you her undivided attention.

“So tell me, honey, do you have a boyfriend? I’m assuming a pretty thing like you would have one. Tell me about him.” Part of you wondered where this conversation was going, but the other part assumed that she already knew which direction you leaned in.

“Uhh... not my type.” You stared at her with curiosity.

“So you got a girlfriend, then?” Her new confidence shocked you a little bit.

“Uhh... no.” You tilted your head, and she seemed to pick up on your confusion.

“Good girl.” Your mouth was dry. “You see, mommy doesn’t want you having a girlfriend... no, she wants you all to herself.”

Your eyes widen in shock, but your core aches and cheeks burn. You stare at the woman next to you as a hand slides onto your thigh.

“Oh come on, darling. You said you wanted a mommy, baby. I wanna take care of you. I see the way you look at me. Don’t deny you want me too.” She spins around and pins you to the counter, and you audibly gulp.

“But- Jane.” You whine, already being driven crazy by the proximity of Agatha’s body.

“Jane is kicking me out, baby girl. And you can come live with me. Mommy has a pretty house, honey. I can feed you, clothe you... make you feel good. I can make you feel special.” And God, your soul was ready to leave your body. You wanted this. You could hardly think as her soft lips grazed over the skin on your neck, and a soft moan escaped your throat. Her tongue and teeth pulled at the skin just below your ear, trying to pull a response out of you.

“Mom!” The both of you jumped at the third voice in the room. The two of you turn to Jane in shock. “What the FUCK are you doing!” She rushed over to the two of you, pulling Agatha off of your body. “You can’t just come into my life and try to fuck my friends after someone rejects you!” She pushes her mom back and turns to you.

“Oh my god, YN, are you ok? I cannot believe that she tried to touch you. God, that makes me sick.” She hugged you, but you still couldn’t say anything.

“Jane, honey, you don’t know-“

“Shut up! I can’t even look at you! Get out of my house, mom. I never want to see you again.” Jane’s face turned red with anger.

“Honey-“ Agatha met eyes with you, but you didn’t know what to do.

“Leave! Now.” She seethed and stomped back to the bedroom, expecting Agatha to be gone when she got back.

The woman in front of you moved silently while you still processed what just happened. When she returned with her belongings, she gave you a note, but headed out without saying a word.

After a few minutes, you finally looked at the piece of paper in hand.

If you ever make up your mind...

1286 Lincoln St NW

(673) 867-5309

-Agatha

-

-

-

“YN, are you sure you’re alright? I really never would have expected my mom to touch you or even make you feel uncomfortable. I’m so sorry.” Jane sighed as she sat on the bed.

“I’m fine, J. You don’t have to apologize on her behalf.” You replied, sitting on the chair opposite her.

“I mean what even happened. Why did she do that?”

“Umm... I don’t know. We were just talking and then she started that.”

“What we’re you talking about?”

“Oh, I was just explaining how we met.” You tentatively answered.

“YN you didn’t have to tell her that. I know it’s personal for you, I can’t believe she forced you to talk about it.

“I uhh- actually didn’t mind. I wasn’t forced.”

“Then why would you trust her with something like that? You know how she is.”

“Because...” You thought about your next words carefully. “She cares.” Jane scoffs.

“That must be a different woman we’re talking about, YN. My mom is a selfish bitch who only cares for herself.”

That tipped the iceberg for you.

“You know, Jane? I understand that you and her might never be besties like she wants you to be, but that doesn’t mean you get to fuck her over now that she’s trying.” Your friend looks up at you in shock.

“Well she fucked me over my entire life, so I don’t see why I can’t do the same.”

“Because! Jane! She’s changed! It’s only right that you give her one more shot in your life!”

She took a pause.

“I’m sorry, YN, are you defending my MOM? After everything she’s done to me, and everything i’ve done for you?!”

“Yes. It is sick watching you throw something away that I can only dream of.” You spat angrily.

“Geez, YN. Just- get out of my fucking house. Keep your rent money for the month. Pack your shit and get the hell out of here.” She nearly ran out of the room.

But you weren’t surprised. In fact, you expected this the moment you chose your side.

-

-

-

The knocks resonate through the large door attached to the even larger house. Agatha has money.

You thought Jane was over exaggerating a little bit, but now you understood that she wasn’t. You sighed as your cab sped away, and now all you could do was wait.

Agatha opened the door, slightly shocked to see you, but nevertheless happy.

“Hey baby, what is it?”

You took a deep breath, taking in the sight of the woman who stood in front of you.

“I want you to make me feel special, mommy.”

-

-

-

link to part 2

[slightlymore]

no, thank you

part of the Pride Universe

jaemin x fem reader

others: haechan (mentioned in jaemin's thoughts but not present in the real plot)

genre: smut with plot, roommates au, mentions of university (jaemin is a med student), angst, fluff, very +18 tho

warnings: very! rough! smut! (brat taming, oral, masturbation, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, denial, slight degradation, restriction, manhandling, bath tub is one of the locations), short mentions of mlm (jaemin x haechan fwb in the past), yn comes off rude in the beginning but it's necessary for character development, yn has an anxiety attack, angsty 

words: 11.3K

this is kinda good if I say so myself, yall have to read 👁️ if you don't like mlm or memberxmember I promise it's just a short bit of fluff/angst connecting it to Cute~ and that's all lol, the plot is very jaeminxreader centered 

Jaemin has been told that he can't say no to people. Yes, he will come to the party. Yes, he can help with the moving out. Yes, he can help you with Anatomy. Yes, that kind of anatomy as well. 

The only time Jaemin would say no is when people would ask if he’s busy or tired. No, I’m fine. No, everything is alright. 

"Do you ever sleep, Jaemin?" Haechan asked once. 

His soft and sleepy voice made Jaemin smile. He wrapped the boy’s waist even tighter, tugging Haechan’s body against his. 

“Of course I do.” Haechan chuckled. “When?” “When you’re not here”, the other whispered. “Lies. You’re studying when I’m not here. Look at what kind of service I’m doing. Fucking you so that you can just lie in bed and fall asleep.” Jaemin smiled again and ghosted Haechan’s forehead with his lips ready to place a kiss on the other’s warm skin. He stopped himself before doing so. “Yeah, thank you for your service.”

But since Haechan started to date some guy, there was no one to force him into bed and make Jaemin rest. 

The boy would drift off to unconsciousness for a little while every night, head pressed into his med school books, mind full of notions and caffeine. He would stay like that for an indefinite amount of time, not enough to fully fall asleep but enough to being shaken to the core when he would wake up, batting his eyelashes as his unfocused gaze tried to make sense of his surroundings. Then he would get up slowly from his uncomfortable chair and drag his feet to the kitchen to make his nth cup of coffee for the night.

Jaemin has never had a roommate and it was probably because of Haechan. Said boy wouldn’t have cared less if someone was in the other room, listening to their moans, but Jaemin didn’t like that. Instead, he loved it when Haechan would pull up to his doorstep unannounced, eyes either wide with tears or tight with lust. Because the choice was Jaemin. It was always Jaemin. Haechan needed him and Jaemin loved it. He couldn’t have other distractions. No flatmates knocking on the door and complaining. Just him and Haechan, on his bed, on the couch, on the kitchen counters, against the entrance door, on the floor, in the shower. Jaemin didn’t know, but it wasn’t just him doing Haechan a favour, maybe quite the opposite. Because Jaemin has been also told that he doesn’t ask for help. He doesn’t let people know about his needs, or whatever. But Haechan was aware of that. It took Jaemin a little while to notice it, especially since the other was already gone, but more often than not, Haechan would just show up for no apparent reason. “Nothing happened,” he would say, “I was just horny.” But Haechan would come for him. Because that’s how Haechan was. He could see people very well and he could see Jaemin when he needed something, or when he was exhausted and needed a simple hug, or when he didn’t sleep in days or having eaten nothing more than a single cup of instant noodles. They were friends with benefits but the benefits sometimes were just lying beside each other and talk, or order in some food while watching a movie. Sometimes they would just kiss for a long time, during nights where Haechan felt weaker, and those were Jaemin’s favourite nights. “You should sleep now,” the older would whisper against his lips and Jaemin would reply with a short-breathed yeah, in a second, before letting his tongue inside the other’s mouth slowly for another hour or so. Some people might have said that Jaemin was in love, but the boy had no idea himself whether that was the case or not and he didn’t want to think about that. Jaemin didn’t like thinking at all. But he loved it when others did and he loved to think about their thoughts instead of his own. He wanted to know people’s reasons and why they behaved in a certain manner so that he could understand himself without actively trying to.

“So, what do you think?” Jaemin was standing proud in the middle of his spot-free living room, hands on his hips, like a housewife expecting compliments from her housewive friends. 

“Could be better,” you mumbled, biting your nails, barely looking around.

When you found Jaemin’s pretty written paper renting a room on the university notice board, you did assume he was a girl. 

“What could be better?” he smiled at you. 

You stared back, sensing sarcasm but upon seeing the boy’s genuine expression you realized how naive he was. 

“I don’t know. The roommate maybe?” you rolled your eyes and walked towards your assigned room, dragging your suitcase carelessly on the nice wooden floor. “I’m staying, by the way,” you yelled after closing your door with your foot with a loud bang.

____

You have been told a lot of stuff during your life. Selfish, rude, uncaring, insensitive. 

It would make you angry. 

You would yell back that it’s not true making people step back and add some more adjectives that you wouldn’t want to use while describing yourself in class. 

You fought that back a lot, crying secretly under your covers, terrorized of being alone by yourself, afraid of being alone with such a bad person. 

You fought and fought until one day you just stared back at those people. 

So what? you found yourself thinking. Perhaps I am. Yeah. I am selfish and I don’t give a shit. So what about that? What are you all going to do? 

And when you ignored people, they started to ignore you as well. 

And slowly, everyone knew that no, you would not help them with their homework, no, you didn’t want to go to their stupid party, no, you didn’t give a shit about their new college charity event. 

And you didn’t give a single fuck about Jaemin’s rules.

“So, you can actually do whatever you want, really. The only things I ask of you is-,” he tried to speak to you the first morning of you living together.

You turned your music loudly on purpose the previous night as you settled in. You wanted to see the boy come knocking on your door and finally throw away his polite mask as everyone does around you after a few minutes of knowing you. Because you’re rude and it’s better for them to just know that from the start. 

The thing you hated the most was people giving you a little hope, that maybe you’re likeable and they wouldn’t turn their backs on you. Yet, you’ve quickly realized that it is impossible. Not with you. Not since you’re such a horrible person.

“Yeah, I don’t care,” you replied, one of Jaemin’s red apples between your teeth, a little juice glistening on your lips after you bit down. They were prettily on display in the middle of the kitchen island with a little vase of fresh flowers kept them company on the right.

The boy looked at your mouth for a second before locking eyes with you. “Okay,” he simply replied grabbing an apple himself. “I’m glad you like apples. I was afraid they would go to waste-,” but he didn’t complete the sentence, one hand suspended in the air, eyes wide as you let the piece of apple you were munching on fall on the ground as well as the fruit you were holding. 

“These apples are actually disgusting,” you commented then you both listened to the sound the apple made as it rolled into the living room and stopped as it met the soft rug.

That was it. 

It wasn’t your fault that this boy had more patience than your previous flatmates and you had to go stronger on him. 

Kick me out? Are you going to kick me out now? Come on. Kick me out.

But Jaemin didn’t look mad. 

After the initial confusion, he just put his apple back on top of the others and grabbed a paper towel. He knelt in front of you as you stood there with crossed arms and picked up your half munched bite of fruit and threw it away. Then he walked the few steps separating the kitchen island to the living room and picked up the apple as well, giving it the same journey towards the trash. 

You scoffed. 

Jaemin still didn’t say anything and grabbed a pan out of the cabinets. “I’m making pancakes,” he announced calmly. “I don’t like pancakes,” you acted like a kid but the feeling gripping at your throat was something new and you didn’t know how to behave. 

This Jaemin guy made you angrier than other people. 

Jaemin turned around to face you. “What do you like, Y/N?” 

You stared back for a few seconds at his neutral and unbothered face, then shoulder bumped him as you walked away. Grabbing your backpack from the ground you just slammed the entrance door on your way out.

You knew you were annoying. You also hated yourself just like everyone hated you. But you couldn’t help it. It has happened before. You let yourself believe that maybe you were kind and sweet, that you had a caring heart, that people would like you.  Yet, soon after, they would finally realize that you weren’t like that at all. That you were a monster trying to put on an act. So you liked the idea of people seeing the worst you could be first, so they could just leave if they couldn’t handle it. 

And no one could. Yet this Jaemin dude didn't budge.

You came home late that day and you noticed the way Jaemin turned off his music as he heard you enter your room. 

God, you hated him. 

And the morning after he was already in the kitchen, hair wet on his forehead, a white towel around his neck. 

He smiled like an angel. 

"Eggs and bacon?" 

You ignored him. 

And the morning after again. "Fruit?" Door slam. 

And another morning again. "Maybe cappuccino and croissants?" he wondered. Again. 

"Porridge?" "Okay! Okay. Fuck. Okay", you finally replied. 

It was the weekend and you had no excuse to dramatically leave the apartment as you did the previous days when you had to go to class. You were standing in the same spot in front of the kitchen island as the first day when you made a fool out of yourself by spitting out a piece of an apple. 

"I'm fine with whatever,” you added quietly. "Toast?" Jaemin raised his eyes from underneath his fringe before his hand could throw the locks back revealing the forehead. 

You shrugged. 

He smiled excitedly and got busy around the cabinets, the scent of his aftershave intimidating you. 

Walking around him silently you sat up on the kitchen stools, placing your hands on the marble and looked down, uneasy. It was alright if Jaemin was kind now then would start hate you afterwards. You could rest for a little bit, right? You could just put down your shield and breathe. It’s not like you would become friends if the made you breakfast. 

"How did the week go? You guys have many exams?" Jaemin's voice slightly startled you. 

Looking up you saw that he was already looking at you, two white plates in front of him with two pieces of hot toast. You stared back for a second then looked at the way his hands spread jam on the bread. 

"It was alright," you found yourself speaking. 

How was yours? You probably should have asked. But you didn't care and you were afraid to randomly engage in more than a few words long conversations. 

"Here," Jaemin placed the food in front of you then he licked his thumb. Thank you, you should have said. But Jaemin didn't look bothered. 

After a few moments of silence during which you couldn't bring yourself to start eating, Jaemin sighed like a British person would while slapping their knees when announcing they should go. 

"Alright. I'll eat in my room. I have a lot of stuff to do,” he announced and left with the plate. You stared at his back as he lazily dragged his feet towards the corridor and when you heard his door close you finally tasted the toast.

_____

A scared cat. An angry and scared cat.

This was the first thing Jaemin thought when he saw you. 

Honestly, he almost lost it on the first day but kept it in together when he saw the way your hands trembled while being confronted. Then all of his anger died. 

No, I don't care, you told him yet you didn't turn up your music loudly again after the first night and you never bothered him. It was almost as if you weren't even there. 

What a nicely crafted facade, Jaemin would think, hands behind his head, a pencil between his lips, an open manual on his chest, eyes directed towards an indefinite point on his ceiling. 

It was very late at night. His phone buzzed once and the boy stared at the "apartment empty, wanna come?" text. 

Yeah, he could use some of that. 

And he would have been at his friend's place by now if a weird noise wouldn't have stopped him from putting on his shoes. 

It was coming from your room, a small choked sound, barely audible that Jaemin wouldn't have heard it in other circumstances. He walked the corridor slowly until gently stopping in front of you door, a slight blush covering his cheeks. Could it be-? 

But no. 

Jaemin heard a fair share of whimpering girls before and you definitely weren't enjoying yourself. So he knocked, suddenly worried. "Y/N?" You didn't reply, only a little whimper being caught by Jaemin's ears. "Y/N, is everything alright?" He waited, face almost pressed on the cool wood. Another choking sound and "I'm coming in, now,” he announced and you couldn't stop him. 

Sat on your bed, wet cheeks from crying and irregular breaths, you looked up like a scared deer, sliding back when Jaemin walked towards you. "Shh, it's alright," he whispered with a calm voice, hands in front of himself as he sat down in front of you. 

"Don't touch me. Go away," you flinched, hiding your face from his gaze. 

Jaemin had a reassuring face when he spoke again. "I won't touch you if you don’t want me to."

"Go away. Leave me alone," you repeated with a feeble voice, arms pulling your knees to your chest. 

Jaemin looked at you for a few moments, your baby blue pyjama and irregular breath, then he gently sat down on the bed in front of you and crossed his legs. 

"Do you take medicine?" he asked softly. You shook your head. "Okay. Then, will you look at me?" You sobbed and furtively raised your eyes to meet his for a short moment before looking away. "It's alright. You're doing great." Jaemin's voice was low, articulating every word slowly and he didn't move. "It's scary, I know. But there's no danger now. I'm protecting you." His eyes were trained on your face and you finally let yourself stare back fully. 

"Imitate me," he spoke again, breathing in and out slowly. A little sob escaped your lips before you could do the same. 

"Good. You're doing amazing. Slowly," he cooed and you did just that for an indeterminate amount of times, the silence engulfig you both until you looked down and saw your fingers wrapped around Jaemin's hands. 

You let them go surprised but your palms liked how soothing touching another human’s skin felt. 

His was soft and warm, and you concentrated on the way the heat spread to your cold hands, holding them again timidly. 

Then you let yourself fall on the pillows, eyes looking up at the ceiling, the sobs getting more time between each other. 

Jaemin remained still for a moment, as if unsure what to do, then he slowly moved to the side, walking on all fours until resting on the bed beside you. 

A little stronger whine shook your frame again though and he slightly rolled over, rising on his elbow the other hand above your body. 

"I'm-- going to touch your diaphragm. Is this alright?" 

You bit your lower lip then nodded. 

"Okay, breathe in again, keep it for one second, then release slowly."

You inhaled, staring at Jaemin's big eyes as if looking for approval. His hand ghosted your stomach until finally resting on your body right underneath your bust. 

"That's right," he spoke softly. "Now, again.” 

You repeated the exercise, feeling Jaemin's warm palm through the clothes every time your rib cage expanded. 

"Again," he breathed in with you, keeping it, then releasing it. 

After a while your mind felt like white, blood fully oxygenated, Jaemin’s non-invading and calming presence actually making you feel better.

Yet your heartbeat couldn't stop beating and Jaemin could feel it. 

"Again," his low voice made your arms skin shiver with goosebumps, your breathing getting irregular instead of steady. 

"Focus on my hand and your breath," he said but his gaze falling on your slightly open lips wasn't helping you focus at all. 

He blinked and looked up into your eyes again. 

It was even worse. "Jaemin, I'm fine now.” 

The boy blinked a few times and retrieved his hand slowly. 

Your breath calmed down and Jaemin took it for a good sign since he returned to his side of the bed. 

It became silent so suddenly that you could hear Jaemin swallow. 

Thank you? Thank you for being here? Or, thank you for helping me out. Sorry for slapping your hand away? Is this what you should have said, right?

“Then, I’ll be going now,” his soft voice disrupted the silence and your bed creaked in the darkness as he presumably got up. 

No, wait, wait. 

"Why do I become like this at night?" you whispered instead. 

Jaemin’s silhouette against your dark blue windows moved around and lied on the bed again, this time on his stomach, bust raised on his elbows, eyes probably on the shadows of your face. 

"It's because the front part of your brain gets quieter and gives space to the other parts of your brain where feelings are."

"Why do you always have a good answer to everything?" 

You heard Jaemin's breath form a light chuckle. 

"Many people told me that before."

"Okay, right."

"No, wait, I meant that- I'm not bragging, sorry--it came out very weirdly." 

You smiled, the dark and sudden sleepiness making you care less about keeping up your cold image. 

"You want to be a psychiatrist?" "I don't know."

You turned on your side, hands pressed under your face, knees buckled until almost touching his hips. "Why is that?" 

Jaemin sighed. "I don't know if I'm good at helping people." 

The laugh you let out took both of you by surprise. "Are you joking?" 

The boy exhumed perplexed energy even if you couldn’t see him properly. 

"You're a human matt with weird gigantic patience. You'll help people alright." "A human mat?" Jaemin raised his eyebrow at you but you still noticed the amused twinkle in his eyes. "Yeah, you have no self-esteem,” you went on. "I have self-esteem," the other protested. "If you did, you wouldn’t let people treat you like that."

Jaemin let the clock on your wall fill the silence with its ticks for a little while. 

"Like what?" he whispered. 

You rolled on your back, unable to look at him anymore. "Like how I treat you." 

"So you're aware of that." 

"So you're aware of that as well but choose to ignore it instead of fighting back?" 

Jaemin rolled on his back as well, hand rising to his forehead and ruffling his fringe. 

You stared at the way the strands fell back exposing his forehead then you looked at his furrowed eyebrows and finally at his lips when he opened them to speak. "What's the point in fighting back?" 

A car roared outside your open window, giving you more time to collect your thoughts. 

"What's the point in being stupidly kind like that?" you finally spoke up. Your voice was a little whisper as if you secretly wanted Jaemin to not hear you. But he did. 

"So I can live by my principles." "And are you happy?" 

Ah. 

Shit. 

Jaemin was at a loss of words. 

"Isn't it better to just be yourself and do whatever the fuck you want?" you went on. "Like you?" he finally spoke up. "Yeah." "But you're not doing what you want.”

It was your turn to have no words to choose from. 

"You're not yourself, are you?" he asked. "I am," but your voice didn't seem convincing even to your ears. "People are not going to like you more if you behave as you do," you added. "And what should I do to make people like me?" Jaemin inquired. "Nothing. Just be yourself."

Jaemin sat up slowly and briefly looked out of the window. 

"Then you should follow this advice as well. Stop putting on this act."

You didn't sleep the whole night after Jaemin slowly exited your room.

_____

The next day you already left when Jaemin got up and walked to the kitchen. 

He heard you leave actually. He couldn't sleep the whole night either. 

Are you happy? Are you yourself?

No. After turning and rolling on his bed Jaemin got to the conclusion that he wasn't happy or himself at all. 

Not all the time at least. 

Because most of the times he did care about people, but he could also point out times when he did too much for no reason, getting back nothing but a bittersweet taste on his tongue. 

When he came back home after class, an intense sweet fragrance welcomed him first as he stepped inside. With the back turned at him and wearing his black apron, you were frantically looking for something in the kitchen cabinets. 

Jaemin indulged in looking at you for a little while, a fizzy feeling inside his chest, small happiness created by moments like finding money in an old jacket, a little surprise you didn’t need but that made your day better. 

How would it feel to behave like you? Would Jaemin be able to do it? 

At first, Jaemin wondered why you were like that, but after the previous night, he hit his head with an imaginary palm, feeling stupid for not realizing it earlier. 

You were just like him. 

Hiding something in front of people. 

He cleared his throat and smiled when you jolted with a little scream. “For fuck’s sake.” 

Yeah, you were hiding the little girl he saw crying on her bed and he was hiding the needy little boy that so desperately wanted to be loved. 

“I’m sorry for startling you,” he let his bag fall on the floor as he sat on the kitchen stools in front of you. “Are those cookies?” he indicated the oven with his chin. 

You adjusted your clothes as if suddenly realizing how embarrassing it was to wear an apron. 

“Why ask obvious questions?” 

Jaemin’s smile widened until showing his teeth and you felt like either fight him or run away from his eyes. What a weirdo, you thought. It was almost as if he was enjoying your moodiness. 

“Are you looking for something?” he asked again. You crossed your arms on your chest and Jaemin thought that seizing you in the act of being domestic was something that highly embarrassed you. 

He loved it. 

“No.” The boy rested his head on one arm, tilting his head to the side, already knowing what you were trying to do before. “Shall we decorate the cookies together? I can make the icing. The colouring is in the other cabinet.” 

You turned around and stared at the only place you didn’t look before. “I wasn’t trying to decorate them,” you lied. 

Jaemin lifted his hands as if innocent. “Never said that,” then smiled as you rolled your eyes. 

“Do you have plans tonight?” he walked around you to retrieve the decorations and you felt your breath hitch when he had to press himself on your back. “Because the cookies have to cool down first,” Jaemin explained. 

You didn’t reply and untied your apron, suddenly regretting your decision to remain in the kitchen instead of hiding in your room. 

“Watch a movie with me, please?” 

The “no” was already on the tip of your tongue but then you heard the “please” and your eyes moved to Jaemin’s face by themselves. His hands were pressing into the isle, shoulders raised as if he was trying to lift himself, the evident nervousness in his expression making you feel at a loss of words. 

You didn’t expect Jaemin to be shy. Why was he shy? To ask you to watch a movie with him? That made him shy? 

“Okay.” 

His eyes widened. “Okay?”

You almost laughed at how surprised he was and you had to admit that seeing him run around the kitchen to get to the living room was pretty adorable. 

A little sigh, as if a warning, left your lungs when you walked towards the couch. You were probably doing a mistake, but Jaemin - God - Jaemin was so kind. 

Watching his back as he was sat down on his knees in front of the tv, so eager to spend some time with you, even if it was fake, even if he didn’t really care, made your heart swell up. No one has behaved like that before. Maybe it was alright. 

“Okay, but I choose the movie,” you extended the hand and Jaemin got up, placing the remote controller on your palm. His smile never left his lips as you shuffled the options. “What about this?” Jaemin read the description with squinty eyes. "Oh, I don't like happy endings." You looked at him. "Why is that?" 

The boy remained quiet for a moment. 

"I think it's because you relate a lot to a sad story and it describes your life so well that you get mesmerized in it. You finally feel understood. Others are going through the same struggles. But then they get a happy ending and- you don't.”

Jaemin’s fingers played with one of the threads of his shorts and you blinked at his unexpected words. 

“It becomes a reminder of how your life could go if you were lucky like them. But you're not. That's when you can't relate anymore and it becomes even sadder. Instead of being a sort of relief, the happy ending is another punch in the gut, since I'll never be able to experience something like that,” he smiled after the last phrase as if he had just said that the best colour to decorate the cookies was blue. 

Suddenly it felt as if the reality was altered. 

Jaemin's face was a concentrated mask, trying to read other movies descriptions and you desperately wanted to touch it with your fingertips. 

But you touched the back of his hand instead and Jaemin looked down at his thigh before looking up. 

You didn’t know what expression you had on but the boy was so good at understanding people that you could have had a blank face and he would have known what you were feeling. 

He smiled warmly at you and held your hand, squeezing it a little bit. 

“I’m fine.” “It’s alright to be weak,” you almost talked on top of him. “Or to have desires.” 

Jaemin opened his mouth and closed it a few times like a fish and you both jolted when the ding of the oven told that the cookies were baked. 

The boy reluctantly let your hand go when you got up and walked towards the kitchen. 

The smell was incredible and despite the weird saddened energy of the room, you both smiled at each other when locking eyes.

_____

Jaemin got used to your love language very quickly. 

After cookies, came breakfast, and after that, it was the turn of a small gadget you found at the flea market. 

“It’s so ugly that the first person I thought of was you.”

You still kept the insulting wall but Jaemin loved that part of you as well. 

He ate your gratitude made of sweets and desserts, and looked at it in bed, rolling the little bald man made of wood on his palm. 

A night Jaemin would think a lot about, was when you were hammered, bodies spread on the living room floor, eyes closed, soft music in the background to make the ambience less awkward. But you didn’t care about awkwardness as soon enough, the only thing your dizzy heads could think of was nothing at all. 

With a wavering hand, Jaemin felt around him, searching for the bottle of “you’ve never tasted such good cognac before, I’m sure” cognac that Haechan sent him.

 And the “Oh, perhaps I’m getting engaged :P”.

Jaemin stared at the note for a long time then stared at the bottle of amber liquid, his hands gripping it hard. 

You took it from his hands before he could unreasonably smash it on the ground. 

“Are you okay?”

The bottle was put down on the kitchen counter and Jaemin looked at it first then at your concerned eyes, as you’ve started to do more often lately. 

Jaemin didn’t know what expression he had on but whatever it was, it made you take a few steps towards him when he didn’t reply. 

“Yeah,” he breathed out after a little while, trying to put on his normal smile. But when you wrapped his waist with your arms he didn’t stop the tears falling silently on his cheeks. 

He did not sob, nor wail. Jaemin just stood there, arms unable to hug you back. And when you dragged him by the hand, the bottle under your arm, making him sit down on the floor, he just obliged. 

“Let’s drink to that.” 

And Jaemin didn’t know if you meant his broken heart or Haechan’s happiness but he nodded and took a sip of the sweet drink. The bottle travelled back and forth between you until you couldn’t sit up anymore. 

Lying down, the sun setting, the same few songs playing on a loop since no one had the energy to change the playlist, Jaemin couldn’t find the bottle anymore so he just grabbed your hand instead. 

You didn’t say anything and intertwined your fingers with his, mind circling the spot Jaemin’s thumb was circling on your skin. 

"I feel like people love me for how I make them feel.”

The boy’s voice was hoarse and it made your chest tingle. 

You listened, squeezing his hand as to invite him to go on. 

“I know everything about them. I know how to make them feel good. I listen and I love. I love a lot.” 

“You do.”

Jaemin swallowed hard. 

You didn’t have to look to know that his cheeks were wet again. 

“I tried to be perfect. So I could be loved back.”

“You don’t have to do that. You just got an example of that not working very well anyway.”

A sniff. 

“I know. But the little amount I still get now, would it be there if I didn’t try as hard as I’m trying right now? Would people care about me if I wasn't perfect? Would they love me if I didn't do what they need me to? Honestly, I'm terrified to find out.” 

You sighed and let his hand go, rolling on your stomach and lifting your bust on our forearms to be able to look at Jaemin. 

The boy opened his reddened eyes and tilted his head to the side to meet your gaze. 

“If you try so hard and still get so little, you don’t need that love.” 

Jaemin blinked once, listening to your soothing voice, the evening breeze lightly swooshing his hair spread around his head. 

“As you said, they probably still love you for how you make them feel and not for how you are,” and Jaemin visibly flinched at the hard truth. “But,” you grabbed his hand again, not wanting to let him despair, “there are also people that love you because of who you are, even if you confuse them with those that love you for what you do. And I’m sure Haechan is one of them, it just didn’t go well.” “It didn’t have to go well. It has never been something that could go. It’s just my fault that-” but you shushed him pulling at his hand as to make him stop talking. “You can still admit that he hurt you. He didn’t do it on purpose but it’s not your fault either. And it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t care about you. Sometimes you can try very hard and people would still not care in the same way that you do, and it’s alright. It’s not you. It’s them.” 

Jaemin kept his eyes closed as you talked, his chest rising with deep breaths and you placed a hand on it just like he did to you before. 

“Do you like me?” 

His question took you by surprise. 

“You can say no. I’m sorry, I’m putting a lot of pressure on you right now-” “I do.” 

The boy opened his eyes, staring at you from underneath his long lashes. “Why?” 

You stared down at your intertwined fingers. The truth was that you also liked him for how he made you feel. He never snapped, he accepted you, he tried hard to get to you and it was something that you’ve never experienced before. But what does that also mean about him? 

“Because you’re a beautiful human being.” 

Jaemin’s eyes widened imperceptibly. 

“You’re kind and patient and so sweet. And I know that it looks as if I’m saying only the stuff that has to do with me, like, you’re kind with me, and patient with me and sweet with me. But honestly, I would have liked you even if you were like that with other people and not with me.”

You looked up at his face and bit your lower lip. “Also, would you not like me if I understood you the way you understand others? Would that be only loving the way I make you feel? Would that be a bad thing?” “It’s a bad thing only if you were kind to me only to be loved back when in reality you’re not.��� “Yeah. And you’re not doing that, are you? You think you’re not deserving of love without trying to be kind but you’re naturally like that, Jaemin. You’re just unhealthily pushing yourself sometimes. It’s not like you’d stop being kind if you stopped trying. Because you’re already kind. And people will love you the same.”  

The boy didn’t add anything to that. 

He pulled you by the hand until you softly landed on his chest and wrapped your body with his arms. 

You could feel his quick heartbeat under your chest and he probably could feel yours. His warm breath caressed your forehead until you fell asleep. 

_____

The day after, Jaemin was the usual boy. 

His teeth were the first thing you saw when you woke up with a groan.  “Good morning.” 

You furrowed your eyebrows when your eyes focus on the background. “What the hell am I doing in your bed?” 

Jaemin giggled and tugged your body against his, making you realize that he has been hugging you the whole time. 

“Let me go!” you tried to escape but Jaemin didn’t budge. 

“We’re just cuddling,” his muffled voice on the sweatshirt you were wearing sounded whiny and sleepy. 

“Why are we cuddling? What the fuck happened last night?” 

Your body stiffened when Jaemin threw a leg on your hips like a koala. 

“Nothing. We got drunk and cried, then we fell asleep on the floor.” 

You waited. 

“And then I woke up and took ourselves on my bed where we cuddled some more until falling asleep again.” 

You waited some more. 

“There’s something you’re not telling me, Jaemin.” The boy raised his face from your shoulder to show you his innocent puppy eyes. “Like what?” “Like why I have nothing on besides your hoodie.” 

Jaemin’s face lit up in a bright smile and he hid his face into you again as if shy. 

“You were thirsty and drank water from the tap.” 

“And?” you were losing all of your patience while your cheeks heated up. 

“And your clothes got all wet.”

“Jaemin, for fuck’s sake, talk normally. Did you undress me?” 

The boy shook his head. “You took them off by yourself,” he paused. “While trying to give me a lap dance.” 

You choked on air and tried to cover your face with your hands, but Jaemin’s koala arms prevented you from doing so. 

What the fuck. What the actual fuck. 

“But you just took your clothes off and fell on me. Nothing happened. I forced you to wear my hoodie. Then you wanted to cuddle and we fell asleep as you kept saying how pretty my eyelashes are.” 

Oh my God. 

“And that’s it?” you asked with a little voice. 

Jaemin looked at you again and his face was so close that you felt as if on fire, the thought of being naked in front of him and doing stuff you couldn’t remember at all. 

“Yeah, unfortunately.” 

You hit him on the forehead and as he giggled, hands pressing on the spot, you could free yourself and run away in your room.

It was something you would have never imagined, the feeling between your legs.

 You breathed in and out, trying to calm yourself, but your skin still remembered where Jaemin’s hands were placed just seconds ago. And his breath on your neck. And your eyes couldn’t get rid of his sunlit chocolate eyes. 

Oh, fuck. 

This shouldn’t have happened. 

You didn’t predict this happening at all and it made you go crazy just like the heat spreading through your body as your hand slipped down your stomach. You didn’t think. Your mind was blank and your fingers moved on their own, teeth biting your lower lip, knees buckling until your frame slipped on the door and meeting the floor. Legs open and back pressed onto the hard wood, you closed your eyes and gasped, hoping that Jaemin’s hangover ears could not hear you.

_____

Jaemin loved how things started to go between you. Bad mannered and moody, you still snapped at him but didn’t run away when he would laugh and pull you into his arms. 

Perhaps Jaemin was making a mistake. The same mistake all over again. 

Perhaps he was giving and giving, thinking the other party felt the same, but he didn’t care anymore. That’s how he was. He wasn’t trying. He felt like hugging you and kissing your forehead just to hear your scream, loving the little smile blooming on your lips when you thought he wasn’t looking. 

He bathed into your silent affection and soon your affection became something else he wouldn’t have expected. 

“I think you should stay at home.” 

Jaemin adjusted his raincoat with furrowed eyebrows. You were standing near the wall of the corridor and watched him about to go out in the pouring rain. 

“Jaemin. There’s a storm outside. Your friend can just call a tow truck or something.” 

The boy has been in a rare bad mood for a little while that day and when he heard that his friend got a flat tire his mood didn’t get any better. And now, with you looking at him as if he was doing something wrong when his conscience was telling him it was the right choice made him unreasonable angry. Because he knew that he should probably listen to you. 

“I know.” 

You huffed. “Then tell him to go fuck himself and stay home.” Jaemin let his shoe fall down on the floor annoyed. “Why do you care so much suddenly?” and while saying it he was already regretting it but was unable to stop. “You’ve hated me since day one and now you care about my well-being?” 

You tightened your lips. “I don’t hate you. I thought-- you understood.” 

Your vulnerability made Jaemin close his eyes for a second. “Fuck, I do. I always do. I understand everyone and I hate it.” 

Sudden lighting made his face spectral and you took a step back. 

“Just stop being a human mat and stop doing stuff you don’t want to do. We’ve talked about this before, haven’t we?” 

If the boy was cooling down, that phrase took it all out of the window. 

“You think it’s easy? Why don’t you stop saying no to everything and start being kinder then? We’ve talked about that as well. You can’t do it either.” 

“I bet I can go one day with saying yes to everything but you can’t go a day by saying no or doing what you want instead of what other people want,” you dared him. 

Jaemin scoffed. “Yeah, sure. I would want to see that.” 

You crossed your arms on your chest determined. “Okay. Starting from this moment I’m going to say yes. What about you? Are you going to refuse people and do what you want? I don’t think so.” 

Jaemin stared at you for a split second and his expression became one you’ve never seen him wear before. With a fluid movement, he filled the space between you until your faces were a breath away from each other. “I want to fuck you. How about that?” 

You almost gasped as you stared at his dark eyes, the storm outside the window giving him an even more dangerous aura. 

Gulping down, your mind started to run and search for an appropriate answer, but it wasn’t necessary as your lips betrayed you by forming a quiet “okay, deal.”

Jaemin’s pupils trembled as if he was surprised himself, yet his hands were quick, stripping him of his raincoat, letting it fall to his feet. 

“The safe word is,” he whispered slowly, “forest.”

You swallowed again, feeling your throat suddenly dry, then you chuckled trying to mask your nervousness. 

“Okay, but forest? Really? That’s very stupid-,” but you couldn't complete your shaky sentence as you found yourself dragged towards the bedroom and knocked on the bed in a second, ass up in the air with Jaemin’s hands on it. “Stupid?” he asked irritated. “Start fucking counting.”   You shivered even though your blood felt like boiling. Not in a thousand years, you would have expected Jaemin to manhandle you like that. 

Spank. 

A little yelp, more because of the surprise than the actual pain since your thick jeans didn’t really allow for much friction, escaped your lips. “One.” Your voice was trembling. “Good girl,” Jaemin’s voice was almost a deep whisper. 

Spank. 

“T-two,” you stuttered as Jaemin increased the force. 

Spank. 

You whined. “Three.” “God, I’ve wanted to do this the first time you left your dirty stuff in the sink and refused to clean up.”

Spank. 

“F-four. So you’re actually able to feel human emotions such as anger, huh?” you chuckled breathlessly. 

Spank. You moaned and your panties started to get too wet and hot for your liking. 

No five could come out of your lips as Jaemin grabbed your arms and rolled you over on your back. His eyes were full of fire and you felt your core tingle as he got on the bed as well, kneeling between your open legs, resting his weight on his hands pressed on each side of your head. “I’m going to stuff you up so hard. Let’s see if you’ll be able to talk back again, princess.” You were about to chuckle, pretending that his words didn’t affect you, but you lost it at the pet name. A little gasp left your lips in the form of a single breath and Jaemin got even closer as if catching it. “Oh, you like it? You want to be called like that?” he teased you. You gulped nervously and nodded. “Then I won’t do it,” he whispered, mouths almost touching. You raised your head to connect his lips with yours but Jaemin pulled away with a laugh until you couldn’t reach him anymore. Then he got closer again when you rested your head down. “Wanna kiss me?” his voice caressed your ears just the way one of his hands started to draw little circles down your neck. You turned your head to the side, giving him more space. “Hm?” he asked while the tip of his tongue traced the outline of your ear. You shivered at the sensation. “Yeah, wanna kiss you,” you replied, remembering the dare, even though, you realized with deep shame, you would have answered positively anyways. Jaemin’s soft chuckle added to the sensation growing between your legs and you would have rubbed them together if Jaemin’s bust weren’t there, so close to your core yet so far away. “Ask me nicely,” he ordered. You bit your lower lip and looked up at him, trying to flirt back, maybe making Jaemin weak the way he was making you feel. But the boy’s smile never flattered. “Do you not want to kiss me?” you fluttered your eyelashes. Jaemin shook his head. “No.” “I want to kiss you so badly though,” you tried again. “Sounds like a you problem.” “Okay, so you’re not actually able to feel human emotions,” you dropped the sugary tone. “This is pretty human in my book,” he lowered his hips grinding on you, his hard cock making you jolt even through the layers of clothes. “I have to do what I want right? Then I want to fuck you until there’s no trace of that attitude left, but on my terms,” and you would have replied if Jaemin didn’t rise on his knees again, looking at you sprawled in front of him like a full meal and if his hands didn’t go to your waistband, unbuttoning your pants and roughly dragging them down. Your legs fell on the bed like dead weight after the jeans were thrown somewhere in the room. Jaemin got between them again but not to do what you hoped he would. Instead, he reached on the shelves behind you and you recognized the sound before seeing the object: a pair of shiny metal handcuffs. Your eyes widened at the sight and Jaemin chuckled. “You want me to tie you up?” you tried to joke, knowing damn well that they weren’t for his wrists. Jaemin ignored your useless question and handcuffed you, tugging at the chain connecting your hands, making you whine as he hooked it to a nail above your head. You looked up, blaming yourself for not noticing it sooner and shivered at the sudden realization that Jaemin had probably done it very often. A little fear of what he might do to you crept in the back of your mind but instead of spreading panic through your body, it spread a wave of pleasure, collecting itself in a single pulsating point between your legs. “Tell me the truth. It’s the first time you’re not the one tied to the bed, right?” you teased him. “No, but it does look like it’s your first time, isn’t it, love?” his eyes were sweet and kind, the usual look Jaemin would give you in the morning or before going to bed, yet it changed in a second as he calmly slipped his fingers on your hips, getting under your panties and dragging them down your thighs. He twirled them around his finger a few times, the tip of his tongue moisturizing his dry lips as he drank in the view of your spread legs. “You’re not taking off this?” you tried to drift his attention to your face instead, shimming your bust as to indicate what you were talking about, suddenly very shy of you being so exposed to him and definitely not used to the look on his face. But Jaemin didn’t budge. He still stared where he wanted, as if almost caressing you with his gaze as he replied. “It would be a shame. That’s my hoodie, isn’t it? Tell me,” he got closer, hovering over you, finally looking at you in the eyes, making you regret that he wasn’t looking away as before, “does it still have my perfume on? Were you thinking about me today just as you touched yourself that time while wearing it?” he purred and chuckled at your shocked expression. “This apartment has very thin walls, angel. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll tell you my little secret as well, yeah?” You nodded breathlessly. “I was fucking my fist to your pretty moans as well, thinking about your sweet lips wrapped around my cock,” he rubbed his thumb on your lower lip, making you open your mouth as if about to kiss you, then smirked. “What about you? Were you thinking about this-” he let his hand fall from your face down your body until reaching between your legs, touching your wet core with two fingers, dragging them up and down slowly. You jolted, inhaling sharply at the feeling, eyes unable to stay open. “-or maybe this?” his voice was a whisper as his fingertips circled your clit, snapping a whine out of you. His shiny necklace was dangling in front of your face, then it laid on your chest as he got closer and pressed his lips on your neck, sucking your skin in, playing with it with his tongue. “Was it perhaps this?” he spoke again as he easily slipped his middle finger inside of you. The wet sounds of him pumping your pussy made you even more aroused and it probably had the same effect on Jaemin since a little low growl roared in his chest. He slipped another finger in. “Do you hear it? So wet and all for me,” his hot breath ghosted your ear. “Jaemin, please,” you mumbled, the building up sensation keeping you on the edge but not enough to grow to what your gut needed. Jaemin raised his bust and sat down on his heels with a cocky smile, looking at the way his fingers disappeared inside you, glistening with your juices. “You’re in no position to ask for anything, angel,” he reminded you calmly. “But I appreciate the please. Now, let’s learn to say thank you as well, shall we?” You whined, rocking your hips against his hand, urging him to go faster. The boy raised an eyebrow at your eagerness and let himself down on his elbows between your legs. “Do you want to feel my tongue?” “Yes, yes, please,” you replied, all of your pride out of the window. “Like this?” he licked your inner thigh. You protested and it only made Jaemin more amused. “Sorry, like this?” he drew a line on one of your lips, so close yet so far. “Jaemin, I’ll fucking make you pay,” you spoke through your teeth and Jaemin clicked his tongue as if disappointed, retrieving his fingers from you and leaving you all empty. “No, no, no,” you wailed, eyes wide staring at him. “What was that? Did I hear some-” he cupped his ear with one hand in a playful act, “-attitude?” “Shit, Jaemin, you said you’re going to fuck the attitude out of me, yet here you are, not doing anything to me.” Jaemin’s smile disappeared in a second leaving space for a dark expression. Usually, he would have continued to smile, but this Jaemin was a different person. “Oh, be careful what you wish for, angel,” he whispered and dove into your core, not leaving you a single second to breathe in properly. You moaned hard feeling his quick tongue, curling your toes and tugging at the handcuffs keeping your arms painfully above your head. “Oh oh- fuck me,” and he did it, lapping at your wetness, fingers shoved back inside of you, quick to find your sweet spot thanks to your increasing moans guiding his movements. His name on your whiny lips probably made him insane since he started to move even quicker, so quick to make you arch your back, not stopping even when you started to uncontrollably shake, coming all over his tongue. Your legs tried to get together but Jaemin didn’t agree with that, slapping your thighs away his with free hand and diving back in, sucking on your clit as if nothing happened. You cried out and mumbled something about stopping but Jaemin didn’t accept anything besides the safe word. Deaf to your protests, he ravaged you until hearing your loud whimpers again, this time shaking so hard that the bed frame moved with you, your wrists hurting as you tugged at the handcuffs again. Only then Jaemin lifted himself on his knees again, breathless, your juices wetting his lips and chin, a thin layer of sweat matting his fringe to the forehead. “How are we feeling, baby?” he grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and undressed himself, revealing one of the best bodies you’ve seen in real life. Unable to speak, still coming down from your high, you just stared at him, fucked numb, and he still didn’t even put his cock to good use yet. “Good,” Jaemin seemed satisfied as he caressed his abs, going down to the waistband of his grey sweats with a slow movement. He teased you like that for a second, loving the way your eyes were trained on his hard one. “You want it?” he asked with a smirk, palming it and outlining its form. “Yes,” you managed to say. Jaemin clicked his tongue. “You’re back to speaking now. Better do something about it,” he commented and took off his bottoms alongside his boxers. In a single movement, your legs were around his waist and the tip of his cock was tasting your entrance. Jaemin moved it up and down with his hand, spreading your abundant juices on it, making you almost whimper with expectation before finally filling you up slowly with a deep grunt. And you felt every centimetre of it, stretching you out, making the air leave your lungs in the same moment until you felt it hit far inside where no cock has possibly touched before. “Shit-” Jaemin whispered as you moaned, slowly making more space inside your tight walls by swiftly rolling his hips. He didn’t need to keep the pace low for a long time though as you quickly adjusted to his girth, high pitched pleasure whimpers leaving your rough throat instead of pained ones. Jaemin swore again, thrusting every time faster, grabbing your legs and putting them on his shoulders, hitting it from a better angle. "Louder, baby. I want to hear your moans." You bit your lower lip, the remnants of your brattiness lingering on your tongue. "Then make me moan, Jaemin-," and in that second you realized that you've fucked up. Jaemin descended in a breath, making your thighs touch your chest, one of his hands deeply pressed into the pillow, the other tightened around your throat. He was quick. Oh, he was so quick you felt like you were about to go blind. "Like this? Huh?" the creak of the bed and the slapping of the skin almost covering his teeth spoken questions. When you came you felt your eyes roll back and Jaemin finally let you inhale, oxygenating your fucked out brain. Little pleas slipped your trembling lips, imitating your shaking muscles. But Jaemin didn't stop until you felt his hot cum spurting deep inside of you, making you clench hard around him, finally hearing his choked moans as well. His hips moved and moved until you begged. “Jaemin, Jaem- I can’t, I can’t take this anymore." “You know what to say, angel. A single word and I’ll stop,” he reminded you. You bit your lower lip, staring at him in the eyes. “Oh, so you like it that much, huh? Like - a - little - slut," he accompanied each of his last four words with a deep thrust. "Your tight little pussy can’t take it anymore but you still want it, isn’t that right, princess? You like to be used like this, just as I please. You’re filled up so much that it’s dripping out, baby. Would you let me use your other pretty holes as well?” “Fuck, Jaemin, you’re driving me crazy,” you whined, a few warm tears collecting to the sides of your eyes. “Oh, my baby is crying because it’s that good? Do you love it? You want more of my cock, right?” he cooed sweetly. “Yes, yes, please,” you squirmed underneath him. “No,” he shook his head amused slipping out of your hot pussy, slapping your clit with his tip. You jolted and tugged at the handcuffs. Jaemin smiled and jerked his cock between your legs. "Oh, fuck," his voice darkened as his fingers wrapped his glistening cock, fucking himself while looking at your abused pussy. He was so hot, with strands of wet hair to hide his eyes, open red lips to let out deep grunts and his abs flinching when his thumb would press into the tip of his cock that a little whine escaped your lips. "Give it to me." Jaemin looked up at your begging face with a smirk, hand not slowing down at all. "Where do you want it?" You let your tongue out and you could visibly see the moment during which Jaemin forced a moan down his throat. In a second your arms were down and you sighed relieved as he silently unlocked the handcuffs. But you didn't live that pleasurable moment for long that your bruised wrists were grabbed again to make you stand up on your knees in front of him. Jaemin looked at your face for a short while, almost tenderly, eyes darting from your eyes to your lips, before he gripped your head and forced your on all fours, his other hand keeping his cock aligned to your face. You whimpered at the sudden movement but opened your mouth, looking up at Jaemin, waiting for him to do whatever he wanted to you. And he did just that. A choked moan vibrated up his length as he thrust on your tongue, making you taste yourself and his cum at once. Jaemin hummed once then whined, stopping the air inside his nose as if choking before releasing it with through his open mouth and it was so sexy that you desired to listen to his sounds forever. And they got louder as you bobbed your head, his hands loosely gripping your face before palming your shoulders and back, going further until reaching your ass and grabbing it, kneading your soft flesh, shoving himself even further inside your throat. Overstimulated, it took him less time to cum the second time and you loved it how briefly at your mercy he was when you let his cock out, a little string of saliva connecting your tongue to his tip, jerking him off until feeling his seed paint your face. "So fucking hot, fuck-," he groaned, staring down at your expression until you milked him all up. 

Both breathless you just looked at each other until a little smile broke on your lips. He followed suit and chuckled, one trembling hand searching for his t-shirt to clean you up. 

"Wait," he said when you sat up,  putting one finger to your cheek and sucking it clean. 

"Delicious," you raised one eyebrow. "Yeah, I bet," Jaemin replied sarcastic one hand sliding on your jaw while the other cleaned up your cheeks. You closed your eyes with a smile and waited for him to be done, not expecting the little peck he places on your lips. 

When you opened your eyes surprised, Jaemin continued to pat your skin as if nothing happened. 

"What was that?" you inquired. 

The boy blinked at you innocently. "You had something on your lips."

Your smile grew. "And it's all off now? I think there's some left. Wanna check?" 

Jaemin let the t-shirt go on the side in that instant and kissed you deeply, almost making you fall on your back. It was soft and careful, yet so intense that if you wouldn't have felt so spent it would have turned you on again. And maybe you still could go on for a while because when Jaemin tilted your head to the side and circled your tongue with his, you could have sworn that the heat between your legs came back stronger than ever. 

"Wait here," he whispered on your skin and got up, letting you admire the back view until he disappeared outside the room. 

With a deep sigh, you let yourself fall on the bed again, stretching your sore muscles, the realization that you've just had some mad sex slowly creeping in. 

When Jaemin came back you were almost drifting to sleep, lulled by the sound of the rain. 

"Come." A little whine rolled out of your lips as you opened your eyes again. Jaemin smiled looking at you for a few moments before sliding his arms under your knees and waist. 

"Jaemin, wait, no-," you jolted awake but not being able to do anything besides wrapping your arms around his neck. "You can't carry me-," but he shushed you and in a few moments you were already in the bathroom, the hot water still filling the bathtub. 

He put you down and held your waist when you realized your legs were still wobbly and helped you step inside the soapy water. When he followed suit, placing himself behind you and pulling you towards him, you felt your cheeks on fire. 

"You alright?" he whispered, hands already trained on your body, massaging your body softly. 

You nodded and inhaled sharply as he traced your bust with two fingers, going down between your legs. "Jaemin-," your thighs closed around his wrist while your face pressed on his bicep to your left. 

His soft chuckle brushed against your temple. "I'm not doing anything. Just cleaning you out," he had the courage to say. When you arched your back he retrieved his hand and grabbed a soft loofah. With gentle and careful strokes, he passed it on your skin starting from the chest and shoulders then going down on your torso, giving a little bit too much attention to your breasts. Too turned on but also embarrassed about him washing you up, you could just stare at the way the bubbly water dripped on your skin and when he ordered you to turn around, you couldn't bear to look at him in the eyes. Hands on our ankles, as you rested your back to the other side of the tub, he worked your legs up slowly, enjoying the view and your shy expression maybe too much. 

"You're so beautiful," he commented in a low, playful tone and you felt like asking him to get you off for the nth time that night. 

Perhaps it showed on your face or maybe he could read minds, but when he reached your inner thighs, he let he loofah float and touched you with his fingers, pulling you towards him until you straddled his lap. 

"The bet is off now. You can insult me just like before," he smirked while his fingers made their way between your aching folds. 

The breath you inhaled was shaky and you had to press your forehead against his, your hands restless on his wet shoulders. 

"I wasn't like that because of the bet," you confessed and Jaemin's pupils visibly trembled while his lips curved in a little smile. "And I'm not like this now because of it either."

A low sound vibrated in Jaemin's chest before he whispered against your open mouth. 

"So you saying that you're actually a good girl?" 

You nodded, unable to speak as the boy's fingers picked up the pace on your clit. 

"I know," he placed a peck on the corner of your mouth, "you're such a good girl," a peck on your jaw, "especially for me" a peck on your neck. 

You exhaled with a whine and let your head fall back, digging your nails into his skin, finally being able to touch him as you've wanted to do before. Jaemin took the opportunity to let his lips descend to your nipples, sucking them inside the warmth of his mouth, twirling the buds with his wet tongue until it was unbearable for you to not moan his name uncontrollably. 

Your body was all mush when you came again with an almost scream, pulling his head against your chest until his fingertips left your throbbing clit and traced your thigh, going around it and palming your ass. When you finally unclenched your arms from around his neck, he looked up from between the swell of your breasts with a soft giggle. 

"Sorry," you mumbled but he shook his head, a kind of adoration in his eyes that you've never seen before. 

"I loved it-," he started but stopped abruptly afterwards, as if not wanting to let the words aching on his tongue to roll freely. 

You sat down deeper on his thighs until your eyes were at the same level. 

"And?" you touched his chest slowly, fingers still trembling from the high. 

He swallowed, mind running at an incredibly high speed reflected in his suddenly troubled eyes. 

"And I think that-- fuck, I might love you as well." 

Oh. 

It made your whole body shake again. 

Jaemin noticed and you wondered what kind of expression you had on to make him look so worried all of a sudden. 

"Is it too much? Too soon?" he cupped your face with one hand.  

You couldn't look him in the eyes. "I don't know-- I just-" 

Jaemin shushed you. "It's alright. You don't have to do or say anything."

You shook your head and raised your gaze. "I just- I really want to let myself go and believe it."

The boy stayed silent for a moment as if wondering what his next words should be and you hated it. Nights and nights of talking freely with him made you understand how refreshing it was to be yourself and not walk on eggshells around people. And you knew that Jaemin felt the same. Seeing him now, delicate fingers on your skin as if afraid to break you, made your heart ache.  

"You care too much, Jaemin. Don't worry about me like this. We've talked about it."

Jaemin briefly licked his lower lip. "How can I not care about you when no one has cared about you before?" 

And you choked on the amount of tears that suddenly made your vision blurry.  

The boy pulled you towards him and you rested your forehead on his shoulder. "I know," he talked with a shaky voice, "I know I'm too kind and all that stuff and everything you've said is true, I need to change for my own sake, but-," his arms held you even more tightly, "not when it comes to you. I want to be like that with you. And I'm going to change, yes, I'll say no and refuse to do things people ask of me if this is what you want."

His words didn't make your sobs slow down but you raised your face and touched his cheeks. 

"Then I want you to care about yourself the way you care about me, Jaemin." 

"I care about myself now, because you care about me." 

You chuckled. "That's still doing stuff for other people." Jaemin smiled and stroked your under eye with his thumbs. "It's not for other people. It's for you. Because I love you, Y/N." 

You bit your lower lip as a new tide of tears announced their way. 

“I never said I care about you though,” your lower lip trembled after you let it go. “You don’t have to say it.” “I hate you.” “Yeah,” he kissed your lips. “And I don’t like cuddles and I don’t like breakfast.” “Yeah,” he kissed you again. 

And again. 

Until you didn’t let him go anymore and he was sure of being loved back. 

[ephemeralstark]

An Intern’s Ordeal

Summary:  Peter gets invited to the Annual Stark Charity Gala, only he thinks he's attending as an intern and panics because he doesn't even know how to make coffee so how can he manage an actual event. Throw in a stab wound, some fractured ribs, a healthy dose of self-deprecation and a case of mistaken identity, and Tony realises that Peter really doesn't understand how much he means to him.

Rated T | Irondad | Completed | 10k

AN: i hope you all enjoy, i’ll add the link to read on ao3 in a reblog if you guys prefer that!! tw for injuries and blood, stay safe my lovelies and the tag list is at the end! 

“You know,” Peter commented idly as he set down the wrench Mr. Stark had handed him on the table, “when you said you wanted me to come over and help out in the workshop, this wasn't exactly what I thought you’d have planned.” 

“No?” Mr. Stark wondered as he held out a hand for the weird caps Peter was still tightly gripping after being warned not to lose them, “what did you think we were going to do?” 

“I don’t know, really,” Peter shrugged dismissively, “but I kinda thought it would be something to do with Spider-Man.” 

“Spider-Man?” Mr. Stark spoke as though he had forgotten who Spider-Man was, as though he wasn't sitting in the same room as him, before cursing slightly under his breath and dropping one of the caps.

“Yeah, you know? The red and blue guy who swings over the city on webs that he made himself because he’s so totally cool and smart.” 

“I know who Spider-Man is, kid,” Mr. Stark said rolling his eyes at Peter, “can you grab that wrench again? Then get down here, it’s your turn to do a bit of work.” 

“Well, I’m just saying you sounded a bit confused,” Peter said as he jumped off his stool and crouched by the engine on the floor, the smell of motor oil and grease making his head spin a little, he blamed his enhanced sense of smell for that as he other man didn't seem to be affected by it.

“Not about Spider-Man,” Mr. Stark corrected him, before frowning and giving Peter a serious look, “Pete, do you think I only keep you around because of your abilities?” 

“Uh,” Peter faltered, unable to find the words to explain how he did think that but not in a way that made Mr. Stark seem like a bad guy, just in a way that proved Peter wasn't any more special than the next intern who passed through the halls of Stark Industries. 

A look of understanding seemed to cross Mr. Stark’s face and before Peter could even open his mouth he continued to speak, “hey, actually,  how would you feel about coming to this charity Gala on Saturday?” 

“Wh- wait, what?” 

That… had been the last thing Peter expected Mr. Stark to say, why would he invite him to a Gala? Didn't he realise that Peter was probably the last person in the world who should be invited to a fancy event - in fact, he wasn't entirely sure he owned a suit, would that be an issue? Maybe he could borrow that one of Ben’s he wore to Homecoming. 

“Charity Gala,” Mr. Stark repeated, “it's a big event with suits, ties, dresses, and champagne; lots and lots of champagne, not that you’re allowed to drink that, but as Stark Industries is the organiser of the even then I can make sure we have plenty of soda. So, what’s your favourite: Coke, Pepsi, Dr Pepper, Sprite, Fanta…” 

“Uh, I don't- I don't know,” Peter stammered, “just whatever you want is fine with me.” 

“Come on, Kiddo, I want to make this enjoyable for my favourite intern, so what’s your drink of choice?” 

“Uh, Dr Pepper, maybe?” Peter said unsurely. 

“You got it,” Mr. Stark said, “now come on, get your head in the game, we need to rebuild this engine.” 

“Why are we doing this?” Peter wondered, still feeling slightly confused by the conversation that had just occurred, he felt like there was a deeper meaning to it.

“By the time I was your age, I’d lost count of the number of engines I’d rebuilt, this is a young genius’ rite of passage.” 

I’m not a genius, Peter thought to himself but instead of voicing the thought aloud, he focused his attention on the task at hand. Or, he tried to, at least, the truth was that he was slightly caught up on Mr. Stark’s comment about wanting his favourite intern at the Charity Gala. 

Was that his way of saying that he wasn't keeping Peter around because of his Spider-Man abilities, but rather because of his status as a Stark Industries intern? But that couldn't be right, Peter wasn't even a good intern - he usually just fiddled around in the workshop and tried to improve his Spider-Man equipment before attempting to eat Mr. Stark out of house and home. So, why wouldn't he take a better intern to the Gala? And what exactly would be expected of Peter on Saturday? 

“Kid?” Mr. Stark poked Peter’s arm making him jump in shock and his head snapped to the side to see his mentor staring at him with a slightly concerned expression, “you good? You’re off in your own world tonight, I’m starting to get a little worried and you know me; I don’t like to be worried, I like to be blase in most situations.” 

“I’m yeah, I’m good, don’t worry,” Peter lied, “I was just thinking about this US History project I’ve got to hand in soon.” 

“History?” Mr. Stark muttered, screwing up his nose in disgust, “you go to a STEM school, right? Shouldn't they be focusing on the sciences more than history?” 

“Well, you know how it is,” Peter muttered with a shrug, “those who are ignorant of history are doomed to repeat it, and I suppose they have to give us a rounded education.” 

Mr. Stark cast him a dubious glance, “you sure that’s the saying, Bud?” 

“Well, it’s close, I think,” Peter mumbled, “anyways, I like history, I don't think it’s something I’ll pursue as a career but the class is interesting enough.” 

“A career?” Mr. Stark asked jerking back in shock, “in history?”

“Not for me,” Peter repeated, “I don’t know, I’ll probably go into research or scientific development or something, I haven't thought about it in too much detail, to be honest.” 

“You haven't- Kid, what? You should absolutely be thinking about this,” Mr. Stark said, “I know I’ve mentioned this before but I do have some pull at MIT. In fact, I have some pull at almost every college out there, you name it and I could probably get you in. What can I say? People love me.” 

“I just don't want to make a life-changing decision at fifteen,” Peter muttered, “I know I’m going to have to soon, but do you know how much people change and grow? I asked May and she said she’s nothing like the person she was as a teenager, so if that’s going to be the same for me, how do I know that I’ll choose the right career at this point in my life, I’d rather take the time and make that decision.” 

“Alright,” Mr. Stark said, “as much as I’d love to put you through college and have you working full time at Stark Industries, I can understand why you feel that way and it’s quite a mature observation - even though I hate it.” 

“You’d want me working here?” Peter asked with wide eyes. 

“Of course, you’re my favourite intern after all,” Mr. Stark said with what Peter was sure was meant to be a teasing grin, but all he could think about was the swooping in his stomach as those words were repeated. ‘Favorite intern’ was that Mr. Stark’s way of saying he was going to have to act like an intern at the Charity Gala?

He instantly began to feel nauseous, Mr. Stark was dropping hints about the intern thing which meant that he was absolutely expecting Peter to be on the ball at the Gala and he was only used to messing around in the lab. In fact, Peter was fairly sure that he’d never done anything intern-like; Mr. Stark had once asked Peter to turn on the coffee machine and Peter had merely shrugged, shoved a handful of sour patch kids in his mouth, and admitted that he had no idea how to make coffee. 

So really, Peter had never done an intern’s job, he was going into this completely blind. 

“Peter?” Mr. Stark prompted, “are you alright? Was that too much?” 

“I’m fine,” Peter said quickly, as he lurched to his feet, “I just really gotta go and… work on that project.” 

Peter stumbled over the toolbox on the floor, a testament to his distraction as his Spidey-Sense would have usually warned him of such obstructions, and grabbed his backpack off the ground. 

“Peter, wait-” 

But Peter didn't wait, or even hang around outside the door to the workshop to listen to the end of Mr. Stark’s sentence, he ran. Like a coward, his mind supplied. 

He wasn't a coward, he was just… scared that Mr. Stark was going to expect more of him than he was able to give, he didn't know how to be an intern, so really, was it any surprise that no one at school believed him? Ned probably would have eventually lost his trust in Peter after a while if it wasn't for the discovery that he was Spider-Man. 

Peter made his way upwards to the roof, instead of towards the main exit, slipping his web-shooters on over his wrists in preparation to swing home. 

“Peter, Boss has requested that I ask you to stay, at least for ten minutes,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said, which of course shouldn't have been a surprise considering she was everywhere in the building - except the bathrooms. 

“I can’t,” Peter said, guilt gnawing at his stomach as he spoke, “tell him that I’m sorry for rushing out, and it wasn't anything he said-” that was a lie but Mr. Stark didn't need to feel guilty about expecting Peter to do his job “-and maybe just say I’ll see him on Saturday, although if wants to he could text me the details?” 

“I’ll pass that along,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. said gently, or as gently as a robotic voice could sound, “take care Peter, don't forget your mask and  swing safely.” 

“Thanks, F.R.I.,” he mumbled as the doors to the roof slid open and Peter breathed in the cool NYC evening air.

Taking note of her advice, he pulled his Spider-Man mask out of his backpack and pulled it over his head, he didn't bother changing fully into his suit, he was only going home - he had no plans to stop and fight any crimes. 

“Good evening, Peter, I heard from F.R.I.D.A.Y. that you were distressed, how are you now?” Karen greeted him instantly. 

“Of course you did,” Peter muttered, “I’m fine, don't worry, but can I ask you something?” 

“You just did, but of course I am your A.I. system therefore you can ask me as many questions as you’d like,” Karen told him. 

“Alright,” Peter mumbled, rolling his eyes behind the mask as he wondered whether she had been programmed to respond with that whenever he asked if he could ask a question, “uh, so theoretically if I asked you some questions would you have to tell Mr. Stark what I asked you?” 

“No, he only has override codes in case of an emergency, but I was designed to be yours alone and that must come with some degree of trust.” 

“Right,” Peter said, trying to process her words as he launched himself off the side of Stark Tower and felt the cold wind make his clothes flap in the breeze, his stomach swooped with the familiar, intoxicating fear of falling and he felt himself immediately perk up with the adrenaline rush. 

He waited until he could make out the shocked expressions of the people on the street before he shot a web, feeling the familiar tug on his arms as his fall was broken and he swung in an upwards arc - it felt like he was on a rollercoaster and he couldn't deny that he loved every moment of it. 

He had almost lost himself in the comforting thwips of web-slinging and the soothing breeze when Karen spoke up once more and reminded him of his concerns. 

“Did you want to ask me anything else?” she prompted. 

“Uh, yeah,”  Peter mumbled, “what would an intern typically wear to a Stark Industries Charity Gala?” 

“Mr. Stark doesn't typically take interns to his Galas,” Karen informed him, “however, I know that you’re asking this because you were invited this Saturday, therefore why don't you just wear formal attire.” 

“How did you know that?” Peter asked in a moment of paranoia. 

“I am connected to Tony Stark’s personal server which is the same server as F.R.I.D.A.Y. and she has the finalised guest list for the Gala which includes your name.” 

“Is there anything else there about me?” Peter wondered, “besides my name, that is?” 

“Unlimited access.” 

“Unlimited because I’m an intern, right?” Peter asked, “I have to be able to do what Mr. Stark needs during the Gala?” 

“I don't follow your line of questioning,” Karen said. 

“Yeah, no,” Peter mumbled, “I didn't really follow that either. How about this: what does an intern typically do?” 

“I need more context,” Karen said, “the job role of an intern depends on who they intern for.” 

“Alright, what does an S.I. intern do?” Peter corrected. 

“In which department?” 

“Mr. Stark’s personal intern, what would be expected of that person?” 

“The only person to ever fill that role is yourself, therefore I’m afraid that’s only a question you can answer as it was never an official post therefore I can’t source any information from a job application.” 

“So,” Peter said slowly as he swung, “you’re telling me that only I know the answer to the thing I don't know?” 

“Exactly.” 

“Great,” Peter mumbled, shaking his head to himself.

So basically he was the only person who had ever interned for Mr. Stark, which made sense, after all, Mr. Stark had always had Miss. Potts with him, she had been his assistant before she had taken over everything, therefore why would he need interns? If anything, Miss. Potts was probably the one who had interns, so what if Peter asked her? 

No. 

That wouldn't work, she and him hadn't seen each other a ton and if he went up to her and started asking weird questions she would either assume that he was looking for money or she’d grow suspicious and tell Mr. Stark about him questioning her. 

So, he was essentially lost. There didn't seem to be any clear answer about how to be a good intern for Mr. Stark or what would be expected of him on Saturday. To be fair he should have expected this to be harder than expected, his mentor wasn't one to play by the rules and why should this situation be any different? 

“Are you alright?” Karen asked, “you’re acting strange tonight, your behaviour is sparking concern.” 

“I’m fine,” Peter lied, “just worried about this project thing I have to prepare for school next week.” 

“You know, I am connected to a great deal of information, if you need help with a project, you can always ask me,” Karen reminded him. 

“Yeah, K, I know,” Peter murmured, “I just need to think, alright? I’m fine, I just need some time to myself.” 

“Noted.” 

And with that, she fell silent, finally, and Peter was left to his thoughts and worries. Which he had absolutely planned to do, except a piercing scream breaking through the night distracted him from himself. 

“No, no, please, my husband’s medication is in that bag!” A woman shouted, sounding panicked, “please, no, he has seizures and if you take his meds he will be in danger and my money is in there too, I can’t buy more pills.” 

Peter immediately changed his trajectory, so much for not getting involved in anything, I probably should have put the whole Spidey-Suit on, he thought to himself as his hearing honed in on the desperate sobs coming from an alleyway. 

The scene that met Peter in the alleyway made his blood boil and he felt himself gritting his teeth without meaning to; a lady who looked to be in her late seventies was clutching at her handbag as though her life depended on it, although judging by what Peter had previously heard, her husband’s did. The thief was tugging sharply and slashing the air between them with a sharp blade, he didn't seem to be trying to stab her, but he wasn't exactly being careful. 

“Hey!” Peter shouted, successfully distracting the thief who seemed to jump out of his skin and let go of the lady’s handbag on impulse. 

“Spidey?” the man asked, looking over Peter’s clothes with a confused frown which reminded Peter that he was wearing an incredibly dorky science T-Shirt with an amazing science pun on it, he would probably have to bin the shirt now, or at the very least retire it for a year or so. 

“Stealing a lady’s handbag?” Peter asked, not needing to put much effort into proving that he was disappointed in the guy, “really man? That’s low, especially when she’s told you her husband’s very important medications are in there.” 

“No one asked you, beat it!” 

“I can’t do that,” Peter said, “I’m going to have to insist that you walk away, maybe if you go in the opposite direction I won’t knock you out and call the police.” 

Alright, so maybe that was a lie and Peter was planning to web the guy up and call the cops no matter what he decided. 

“Oh, fuck off,” the man muttered. 

“Hey!” Peter shouted, “language!” 

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the thief snapped, forgetting about the lady and her handbag in order to focus his attention on Peter. 

He made a quick hand motion to the lady to run, and thankfully she didn't need to be told twice as she instantly broke into a hasty trot away, her heels clicking on the concrete but the thief didn't seem to care, his attention was solely on Peter and the blade in his hands was no longer being held loosely, now it was poised to attack. 

“Woah, dude!” Peter muttered, holding his hands up as he backed off a few steps, “I take it back, you can use whatever language you want.” 

“Why couldn't you just keep swinging?” the man asked as he took a couple of calculated steps forward, “I had this all under control, why the fuck did you think it was a good idea to get involved?” 

“You were stealing that lady’s handbag,” Peter said, “and her husband’s medication, there’s nothing about that situation that is controlled.” 

“It was for me, alright?” the man screamed. 

Uh oh, Peter thought, from experience he had realised that when people were overly emotional, they became unpredictable. This man was armed and seemed desperate.

That was something that Peter occasionally struggled with; he was out almost every night as Spider-Man and often he stopped people who weren't truly bad but they were just in a difficult situation. Did that make him a bad person? Some of those ‘criminals’ were potentially only trying to scrounge money to feed their families. 

He couldn't think like that though because  if he started excusing some people’s bad actions and condemning others’, where did he draw the line? Spider-Man was the person who looked out for the little guy, he stopped crime, he didn't take statements and decide who was guilty or whose actions were justified. If someone did something wrong then he would stop them and that was that. 

“Look, I get you think you have your reasons for this, but it's wrong,” Peter said, “why don't you put the knife away, and maybe we can sort this out without anyone getting hurt?”

“You-” the man broke off, seemingly too angry to form a coherent sentence, instead he lunged forward, knife in hand. 

Peter hadn't been expecting that reaction, he had hoped the man would have been willing to compromise. In a desperate attempt to avoid being impaled on the guy’s blade, Peter forced himself through the air and he hit the ground with a thud, feeling as though something in the side of his chest had cracked. 

“Ouch,” Peter muttered, trying to ignore the whine he could hear in his own voice, he was meant to be the tough hero who fended for those who couldn't fend for themselves, “hey, man, that was seriously not cool.” 

“Shut the fuck up!” 

The man lunged at him again, still holding the knife, and Peter skittered backward like a crab until his back came up against a hard, metal surface: oh, the dumpster.  He desperately needed to get back up on his feet, he was at a serious disadvantage. 

His Spidey-Sense thrummed in alarm and he whirled around just in time to see the moonlight glint off the blade that was flying towards his face - this guy was aiming to kill! In a last-minute, desperate attempt, he pushed himself downwards so that the guy stabbed into the dumpster instead of Peter’s face, the blade cutting through the metal as though it were butter. 

“Dude, what the hell?” Peter gasped out from his place, flat on his back on the damp alleyway ground. 

“Stop moving,” the man grunted as he swung again. 

“What?” Peter asked, “no!” 

Why would he do the one thing that would mean certain death? Sure, he put on a spandex suit on a nightly basis and swung around the city at dizzying heights, but he didn't have a death wish. Besides, his suit had a certain degree of shock absorption ability, and it was cut-proof, which didn't always prevent Peter from getting hurt, but it definitely took away the brunt of his injuries.

Except he wasn't wearing his suit currently… 

He was very much just Peter Parker in a mask, although he did have his web-shooters. His web-shooters! Just as the guy lifted the blade, with two hands, looking as though he was ready to perform a sacrifice, Peter shot a web upwards and pulled himself out from certain death. 

As he flew upwards he felt the man strike one last time, and in his desperation, he succeeded. Pain radiated through Peter as the blade embedded in his thigh and was dragged downwards as Peter’s body moved up.

 “Ah!” Peter called out in agony, the man below in the alley laughed in victory. 

“Got the little bastard!” The man cheered as he started to run. 

Peter wanted to chase after him, web him up and make sure that he would never hurt another person ever, but he was smart enough to know that with the current state of his leg, he wasn't going to be chasing anyone. 

“Karen? You there?” Peter asked, despite knowing that she never went anywhere. 

“I’m here,” she confirmed, “I know you needed time to think, but I would seriously recommend seeking medical attention, you have a large laceration down your right thigh.” 

“I’m aware,” Peter said dryly, or tried to, his humour was shadowed by the pain that was coursing through him. 

“I can contact Mr. Stark if you would like?” she offered, and normally Peter would have said yes, he would have felt relief at the thought of his mentor coming to pick him up from the cold rooftop and taking him back to the tower where he would receive decent pain relief and have his wound cared for immediately. 

But, he couldn't say yes, because he had run out in such a strange way that the next time he saw Mr. Stark the man would undoubtedly have more questions than Peter was ready to answer. 

“No,” he said slowly, “but thanks, Karen, actually though… could you just alert the police to that guy, I don't care what you tell them, just make sure he can't hurt anyone else, please?” 

“Consider it done,” she said. 

Peter let out a breath of relief that he hadn't even realised he’d been holding. It was going to be alright, the cops would pick up the guy before he hurt anyone else, that lady would probably be at home with her husband by now and he could go home and patch himself up before he started to research further into interning at a fancy Gala. 

Or, that had been the plan. 

By the time he made it home, the sun was beginning to reappear in the sky and he could hear the sounds of the city waking up for another day. 

It's a good thing May was on the nightshift, Peter thought to himself as his apartment block finally came into view. 

His jeans were no longer blue, but rather a strange brownish red with the effect of a mixture of dried and still flowing blood. His blood. It wasn't often he ended up covered in his own blood, but these things happened he supposed. 

Taking advantage of the last hour or so of dim light, he carefully crawled up the side of the building, doing his best to make sure there wasn't a blood trail leading up to his window - he wouldn't be able to explain that one away easily. 

“You have a text from Mr. Stark,” Karen informed him. 

“Oh…” Peter mumbled and he painfully crawled through his bedroom window and let his body fall to the carpet with a thump, “what does it say?” 

“One message from Tony Stark, sent two minutes ago: hey Kiddo! I’m not really sure what happened back there, maybe I overstepped by bringing up colleges and working with me, or maybe you’re more interested in Oscorp - although I don't know why didn't you hear about their animal experimentation scandal? Probably not a good time for jokes, but let me know you’re alright, ok? I saw that Karen has been active all night, so try and get some sleep and just know that I’m not mad at all… I’m just a little confused, but there's no pressure here for you to explain what was up. “

“Do you think I upset him?” Peter asked his A.I. carefully as he lay on his bedroom floor, probably creating a mess of blood that he would be forced to scrub at later. 

“I like to think he was honest in the message, I believe he is just confused.” 

“It’s stupid,” Peter mumbled, “like, I shouldn't have freaked out, it was so dumb of me.” 

“Would you like to talk about it?” Karen offered.

“Uh, maybe?” Peter said, “I could keep the mask on while I clean this leg up.” 

“Sounds good,” and if Peter wasn't mistaken, her voice sounded gentle and reassuring, he was lucky that she was a computer program and didn't tire of him, or need to sleep. 

So, Peter carefully pulled himself back to his feet, crying out in agony as soon as he put weight on his bad leg. If the thought of trying to stand once more didn't fill him with dread, he would have crumbled instantly. 

“Shit,” he muttered, he wasn't one for regularly cursing but all things considered he felt the situation called for it, and there was no one around to hear, except Karen. 

He made his way slowly to the bathroom, dragging his leg rather than stepping to try and reduce the amount of muscle movement, not that it mattered, the blood still oozed out and the tearing sensation still made him feel nauseated. 

“I’m going to have so much blood to clean up before May comes home,” Peter whined to Karen as he pushed open the bathroom door, leaving a red smear behind. 

“Would you like me to contact Mr. Stark for you? He can hire a cleaning company,” Karen offered.

“A… cleaning company?” Peter asked, feeling ill at the thought, and not just from the pain he was in, “no, no that’s fine, thanks though.” 

He and May weren't poor per se, but they didn't often have an abundance of money to spare, and the thought of paying someone to come and clean their little apartment, when that money could have been used for gas or food, made Peter feel ill. He already caused their food bill to skyrocket thanks to his enhanced metabolism.

Peter sat down heavily on the side of the bathtub, letting the bright lights hurt his eyes momentarily. 

“Karen?” 

“Yes, Peter?”

“I didn't run out on Mr. Stark because I was upset that he had brought up college or offered me a position at Stark Industries,” Peter admitted, “I mean, it was a bit of a shock, and I know I’m going to have to decide what I want to do with my life soon enough because I can’t live in limbo until I know for sure, but yeah, working with Mr. Stark is the dream.”

“So why did you leave?” Karen asked. 

“He asked me to go to the Charity Gala,” Peter said.

“That’s a bad thing?” 

“No, no, no, not for a normal intern,” Peter admitted, “but for me, yeah, I’ve never actually done anything intern-y in my life, I don't even know how to make coffee because I don't drink it and that one time I tried to make it for May she made me promise to never put her through that again.” 

“So?” 

“So interns get coffee,” Peter said as he inched out of his jeans, the dried blood creating a kind of glue between the fabric and his skin. 

“You have never gotten coffee,” Karen informed him as though that wasn't partially what he was freaking out about. 

“Exactly,” Peter muttered, gently easing his clothing off was causing him too much pain, so he tore the jeans away from the wound in a sharp motion that made stars blink in and out of existence in his line of vision as darkness threatened at the edges. 

He didn't remember slipping off the side of the tub, but just as he thought he was going to lose the fight to stay awake, the fuzziness disappeared from his vision and he was blinking tiredly on the bathroom floor with his leg oozing fresh blood. 

“Peter? Peter!” 

“Ugh,” he groaned, “s’ok, ‘m fine.” 

“I really think it’s about time we sought more professional help,” Karen suggested. 

“No, no, it’s all good,” Peter said as he started to feel less dizzy from the agony, “besides, I was telling you stuff, remember?” 

“Indeed, would you like to continue?” 

“Yeah, uh, so, the coffee thing,” Peter mumbled as he gently nudged his jeans off properly, trying to avoid looking too closely at the blood on his leg as he did so, “well, it’s just that I’ve never done one of the most simple things an intern does, and Mr. Stark was dropping hints about me being an intern, so obviously I need to fill that role at the Charity Gala, but how can I when I don't know what’s expected of me?” 

“Maybe you’re meant to just go and have a good time?” Karen suggested. 

“No, no it’s not that,” Peter was sure, “he mentioned interning a few times, it was very clear that he’s wanting me to step up and actually fill that role.” 

“Why don't you ask him?” 

“What? No way!” Peter said quickly, “I absolutely can't do that.” 

“Why not?” 

“You wouldn't get it,” Peter muttered and ripped the mask off in one smooth action, feeling slightly guilty about cutting off his closest confidant so ruthlessly. 

He tried to ignore the turmoil in his mind and instead focused his attention on the gash on his leg. He carefully pulled himself back up onto the side of the tub and swung around so that he could clean the wound off in the bath. He used the showerhead and rinsed it on the gentlest pressure setting, rubbing at the skin around the laceration to clear it of the dried and congealing blood. 

“What the-” 

For some reason he had expected a long swipe, maybe from upper thigh to his knee, he had not expected the sight he was met with. The wound was the length of his pointer finger, and it was wide. It was almost like someone had cut an oval into his flesh rather than swiping him with a knife.

It needed stitches. 

It probably needed a professional, but Peter was an amateur with a complex against disturbing others and a strong need to avoid Mr. Stark until the Gala, so he was going to have to deal with it himself. How much blood had he lost? How long did he have until this wound became life-threatening? He needed to get his shit together and sort it out. 

Once he had finished rinsing the laceration, he wrapped one of May’s nice yellow towels around it tightly, to try and stem the flow of the blood - a large part of him felt guilty, he was going to have to throw it away and listen to her confused rambles as she wondered what had happened to it. 

“Come on, Peter,” he muttered to himself, “you can do this.”

He forced himself to stand, ignoring how that simple, painful movement made a sudden red appear on the otherwise pristine towel. 

“Gotta close it up,” he muttered as he opened the mirrored cabinet and began to rake through for the first aid kit he knew was hidden in there, various things fell as he searched and clattered into the sink making him glad that he was home alone. 

When he opened the first aid kit, he rummaged until he found the thing he had been looking for; a pack of Steri-Strips. He opened them and read through the information leaflet. 

Only use on shallow, clean, uninfected wounds. Do not use where bleeding is unmanageable or significant. Do not use on hairy, oily areas, joints, the face. Seek medical attention if the wound was a human or animal bite. 

Well, that was a lot of situations in which they were unsuitable and Peter was fairly sure his wound wasn't shallow and he would have said the bleeding was erring on the unmanageable side, but what else could he do? He didn't have any other option, he would have to try.

So he did, he carefully unwound the towel and looked at the nauseating wound on his thigh. He needed to align the edges and hold them in place with the Steri-Strips. It sounded simple… but it was going to hurt. Gritting his teeth, he started to get to work. Small whimpers and whines of pain would escape every now and then as he struggled not to lose himself to the lightheaded feeling that kept coming with the pain. 

The Steri-Strips didn't work as well as Peter had hoped, the edges of the wound weren't exactly lining up and there were parts of the sticky side that were attached to the open part of the wound, which he was sure wasn't meant to happen. But, it was an improvement, and that was all he could ask for. 

He stuck one of the sterile dressings over the top and used the first aid scissors to cut a strip off the towel - he was going to bin it anyways - which he then tied tightly around the affected area to create enough pressure to stop the bleeding. 

“Now to clean up,” he muttered with a slightly delirious laugh that he was putting down to the blood loss. 

Sitting there, with his leg wound cared for - to his best ability - and his throbbing ribs, Peter realised just how tired he was. He still needed to clean up the mess he’d created and research what Mr. Stark would be expecting of him at the Gala. 

He pulled on his mask tiredly, “Karen?” 

“Yes, Peter?” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“I forgive you, what can I do for you?” 

“Can you text Mr. Stark for me and say: sorry for running off like that, don't worry I’ll be at the Gala tomorrow, and I’ll be fully prepared.” 

“Message sent.” 

“Thanks, Karen,” Peter said and laid his head back, fighting the urge to fall into a deep, comforting sleep. He still had so much to do… 

----

By the time Saturday evening arrived, Peter was so nervous he was almost crawling about on the ceiling.

“Oh, Honey, relax would you,” May said with a fond eye roll as she rewatched the tie tutorial that she’d saved after they’d both been mystified by the snakelike fabric on the night of Homecoming. 

“Relax?” Peter asked, his voice a few octaves too high, “May, I can’t just relax, this is the Stark Charity Gala and I am a Stark Intern.” 

“So?” May asked, motioning for him to come closer so she could do up the tie after her third run through of the video. 

“So, I need to be the best intern that has ever been to one of these things, if it gets out that I’m Mr. Stark’s personal intern and I don’t do a good enough job, then my actions will impact negatively on Mr. Stark and I can’t have that!” 

“You need to calm down, Pete,” May said with a laugh, “you’re getting too in your head about this, why don't you just try to have a good time? And maybe go fix your hair.”

“Yeah,” Peter mumbled running a hand through his curls, “hair. I can do that.” 

“Just don't use as much gel as you did last time, alright?” May said, “the curls suit you, the greasy look does not.” 

“Oh ha ha,” Peter mumbled as he made his way out of the living room, pain echoing in every step, but May couldn't know. 

She couldn't know about the thirty dressings he had gone through in the last two days as his leg refused to heal properly, despite his normally impressive healing abilities. She couldn't know about the weird yellowish-green discharge that was escaping constantly or the strange smell he had begun to notice. She couldn't even know about the smattering of dark bruises that spanned across half his ribs and made breathing difficult. 

“Don’t take too long, Peter,” May called after him, “Happy will be here soon and I want to take some pictures of you before you leave.”

Peter looked at himself in the mirror, taking in his ghostly pallor and the bags beneath his eyes, how had he avoided causing May suspicion? He looked terrible, or maybe that was his enhanced sight picking up on things normal people couldn't see. 

He coated his fingers in a light amount of gel and ran them through his hair, enough to style it but not so much that it looked greasy, as May would say. 

“Alright, I’m ready!” Peter declared, walking back into the room to be met with the flash of a camera, “woah! May!” 

“You look so cute!” she said in response. 

“I am not cute!” Peter insisted, “I- I’m- I am the most-” 

“Face it, you’re the cutest,” May said pinching his cheeks gently, before pulling him into a hug that squeezed his ribs painfully, “alright, now, have a good night, alright?” 

“You sure you don't want to come?” Peter asked. 

“Oh no,” May said with a laugh, “I have a bottle of red and a handful of romcoms with my name on them.” 

“Alright,” Peter said, “have a good night.”

“You too, and if you’re staying at the tower, send me a text, ok?” May asked, “I don't want to spend the night worrying about where you are.” 

“You got it!” Peter said with false cheer, he doubted that Mr. Stark would want him to stay over, especially as he hadn't replied to the man since that message while he’d been cleaning his wound up. 

Peter made his way downstairs to see the familiar sleek black car parked by the curb, without hesitating he wandered over to the back door and slipped inside. 

“Hey, Happy!”

Happy grunted in greeting and fixed Peter with a piercing stare through the rearview mirror. 

“Is uh, is everything ok?” Peter wondered nervously.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Happy said, “Tony says you’ve been avoiding his messages.”

“My phone died,” Peter lied. 

“You couldn't charge it?” 

“My charger is broken.”

“You couldn't get a new one?” 

“We’re not all billionaires,” Peter mumbled.

“You could have asked Tony, he would have replaced it in a heartbeat.” 

“How?” Peter asked, “my phone was dead.” 

“Alright, fine, keep your secrets,” Happy grumbled, “just… be careful alright, Kid? Tony is really worried about you and I thought he was maybe overreacting because I know how he can be sometimes, but now I’m beginning to think something might be wrong.” 

“There’s nothing wrong.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” Happy asked, ignoring Peter’s lie. 

“Uh actually, can we go to a Drive-Thru Starbucks on the way?” 

“You… want coffee?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Peter mumbled. 

“Alright, sure,” Happy said, “the first time you’ve actually asked for something so I’m not going to say no.” 

Was it really? 

The server manning the Drive-Thru window looked very confused when Happy pulled up and requested an Americano and a Hot Chocolate, Peter could see her glancing between the two of them, obviously wondering who Peter was and why he was being chauffeured around. 

Maybe she would make up a story for her friends to laugh about, or maybe she was tired and nearing the end of her shift and didn't really care. Either way, Peter slunk back into the seat and looked the other way until Happy handed him the two drinks he had requested. 

“So, what’s with the drinks Kid?” Happy asked. 

“I don't know how to make coffee,” Peter admitted as though that was an appropriate answer. 

“Alright,” Happy said and he sighed deeply, “do you… do you normally drink coffee?” 

“What? No, this stuff could kill me,” Peter said, “ever since becoming Spider-Man, I have bad reactions to caffeine.”

“Bad reactions?” Happy asked, his eyes narrowing at Peter through the mirror. 

“Oh yeah, you know; palpitations, heart arrhythmias, rashes, jitters, headaches, projectile vomiting, occasional hallucinations, collapsing episodes, cra-”

“So it’s bad?” Happy interrupted. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty bad,” Peter agreed. 

“So…” Happy trailed off, looking seconds away from pulling over so that he could tear the coffee from Peter’s hands and throw it, “why exactly did we get you a coffee?”

“Oh, this isn't for me.”

“Peter, Kid, come on, you’ve got to give a little here,” Happy muttered, “why did we get a coffee if it’s not for you and you can't even drink the damn stuff?” 

“It’s for Mr. Stark,” Peter said as though that should have been the most obvious thing in the world.

“And pray tell, why are you getting a coffee for Mr. Stark before the Charity Gala?” 

“Because I’m an intern.”

“Of course,” Happy muttered, looking about ready to drive them off the bridge they were currently crossing, “why did I even need to ask?”

The divider slowly raised between them as Happy muttered his statements of disbelief under his breath. 

-----

“There he is!” Mr. Stark said cheerfully as Peter walked into the room, Americano in hand, “I was starting to worry you wouldn't show up.”

“I promised I would,” Peter said, despite Mr. Stark’s words he could see the worry in the older man’s eyes, “oh uh, here, I brought you coffee.”

“Coffee?” Mr. Stark asked, taking the drink from Peter and looking at it in confusion, “you brought me a coffee?” 

“Yeah,” Peter said, “I hope it’s alright.”

The worry only seemed to intensify rather than lessening, was Mr. Stark that concerned about Peter messing up in public? If so, why should he invite him? 

“Thanks, Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said, taking a polite sip from the cup, “anyway, why don't I introduce you to some people.”

“Sounds good, but maybe I could go to the toilet first?” Peter asked, “it was a long drive and I may have had a hot chocolate.” 

“Great, a sugar hyped kid,” Mr. Stark joked, “go on then, scram, you don't need my permission.”

Things seemed to be going smoothly enough until Peter walked out of the bathroom to find his Spidey-Sense thrumming away with a sense of urgency. Just as he started to look for the source of danger, a hand fisted into the fabric at the back of his neck and he was tugged to the side harshly. 

“Where have you been?” a man asked angrily, “and what are you doing out here without even a tray of drinks?” 

“I uh-”

“Shut up!” the man snapped, “I don't know who your daddy is or whose ass he had to kiss to get you this job but if you’re going to work tonight I need professionalism.” 

“I’m not-”

“I said ‘shut up’!” the man shouted once more, giving Peter a little shake to further drive his demand home. Peter was surprised to find himself slightly afraid, and the shake had hurt his ribs and pushed a little too much pressure down his sore leg. 

“Please, Sir,” Peter begged, “I’m not working.”

“Oh you absolutely are,” the man snapped, “you think you can sneak through here and meet Iron Man?” 

“I didn't-” 

“I have half a mind to kick you out into the gutter,” the man continued, “you are a disappointment to all of us in the service industry, you are meant to remain professional at all times, which doesn't mean fishing around for secrets and autographs.” 

“I wasn't!” 

“Liar!” 

The man tightened his grip and started marching Peter forward as though he was a disobedient child. 

“Sir, listen, please,” Peter pleaded, “Mr. Stark is waiting for me.” 

The man froze, his grip tightening momentarily, and Peter’s Spidey-Sense blared louder. 

“You disturbed Tony Stark?” 

“No! No, no, no!” Peter insisted, “I came here with him, I’m his intern.”

“That’s a lie,” the man said, “Stark Industries never brings interns to these events, now come with me or I’m going to end up kicking you out on your ass and blacklisting you from ever working an event in New York ever again.” 

“You can’t make me do anything,” Peter grumbled, trying to twist out of the man’s hold but being restricted by the pain in his leg and side, he wasn't going to be able to free himself, “you have to let me go?”

“Or what?” the man asked with a sneer in his voice, “what are you going to do about it?” 

“Him? Probably nothing, he’s far too polite for his own good, but me? That’s another story entirely,” Peter felt the grip loosen in a second and he almost crashed to the floor from the relief of it, only for Happy to grab his elbow and stabilise him. 

“Thanks, Happy,” Peter whispered, knowing the man would hear him. 

“You’re Tony Stark’s security,” the man who had grabbed Peter stated with a dumb expression on his face. 

“Yes, and you were manhandling one of the people I am here to protect,” Happy said seriously, Peter had often wondered how Happy - with his tendency to get overstressed and his annoyance at most living things - had become the Head of Security at Stark Industries, but now, looking at him confronting the man, he had no doubts that Happy deserved that title. 

“I wasn't- manhandling?” the guy asked, “that’s a bit… harsh, wouldn't you say?” 

“I call it as it is,” Happy said, “care to explain?” 

“I thought the kid was one of my waiters.”

“Did you recognise him?” Happy asked. 

“Well, no, but there are a lot of them, it’s difficult to know them all,” the man said. 

“That’s dangerous,” Happy said, “it’s fortunate for you that I personally run background checks on everyone working this function, but if you’re not even able to recognise a stranger among your employees then I feel like you won’t have a future organising events for Stark Industries.” 

“Wait, no, you can't do that!” the man insisted, “this is my biggest job of the year.” 

“It’s a shame you care so little about it then, imagine not caring enough to learn your employees’ names?” 

“It was a misunderstanding!” 

“Peter, did you try to tell this man you weren't a waiter”? Happy asked patiently. 

“I uh said that I’m an intern and that Mr. Stark was waiting for me,” Peter admitted, feeling a little guilty for the ashen look that came over the man’s face when he realised that Peter had been telling the truth, after all, how else would the head of security know Peter’s name? 

“Mr. Stark is in fact waiting for you,” a familiar voice broke in, “and he’s not a patient man, what is going on here?” 

The man now looked positively grey as he tried to look anywhere but at the confused and impatient billionaire before him, Peter however noticed the way Mr. Stark’s eyes narrowed in on the crumpled fabric by Peter’s neck and the sheen of panicked sweat on his forehead. 

His mentor looked questioningly at Happy, “well?”

“This is Bernard Kyting,” Happy said, and Peter was sure in that moment that Happy knew absolutely everyone in the room’s name and face, “he is the owner of the company that organised this Gala, he is also the man that just manhandled Peter and attempted to kidnap him.” 

“Kidnapping? What no!” 

“Uh, Happy, he wasn't going to kidnap me,” Peter said hesitantly. 

“Are you sure?” Happy asked seriously, “because we should operate on the worst-case scenario and him trying to force you to go somewhere against your will without listening to you say you’re an intern and that Tony was waiting for you sounds bad to me.” 

“It would probably sound bad to the police too,” Mr. Stark agreed thoughtfully. 

“You’re not serious!” Bernard gasped. 

“I’m deadly serious when it comes to Peter’s safety,” Mr. Stark said. 

“Mr. Stark, I really don't think-”

“Hush Peter, we’re handling this,” Mr. Stark said, “actually, don’t hush, Happy will handle this and I am going to show you off to all the stuffy businessmen here, let’s make them all insecure as a twelve-year-old shows them up.”

“Mr. Stark, I’m fifteen,” Peter said, rolling his eyes.

“Exactly, now come on.” 

Maybe it was the anxiety that had been festering in his stomach since he’d been invited to the Gala, or maybe it was the stress of almost being roped into working as a waiter for a high-end Gala, or maybe it was even the blood loss he’d recently suffered… maybe the reason didn't matter, because it was kind of irrelevant. 

The important thing was that Peter suddenly found himself falling forward. 

He felt hands grab at him to try and stop him from crashing against the ground, but they caught him exactly where his ribs were sore and Peter screamed and everything flashed a brilliant, agonising white before the darkness suddenly crept in. 

------

When Peter woke up he was partially surprised that he had actually passed out and partially relieved that he had passed out. He had managed to completely avoid the stress of pretending to know how to act as an intern. 

He tried to sit up, only to gasp and fall back against the pillows as his ribs announced their displeasure at the sudden movement, “oh,” he murmured under his breath as he tried to catch what little of it was left thanks to the pain. 

“I wouldn't recommend that,” a smooth voice said from beside him, Peter turned his head to see Mr. Stark sitting there, looking over his tablet at him.

“Hey,” Peter mumbled, trying to avoid eye contact. 

“You have three fractured ribs,” Mr. Stark informed him casually, “which wouldn't normally concern me too much because I get it, it kinda comes with the job, no matter how good you are, you usually end up a little banged up.”

Peter nodded solemnly, not wanting to speak up because he got the impression that Mr. Stark was nowhere near finished. 

“However, imagine my surprise when I lift your unconscious body up off the floor and find myself with a patch of blood on my new grey suit,” Peter winced, yeah, there it was, “so of course, there’s complete pandemonium, we think there’s an assassin in the Gala, we lock the place down and organise S.H.I.E.L.D.’s medics to attend. The highest of all security is on alert and preparing to raid the building, only for us to find that you have a stab wound, that looks to be a few days old on your leg.” 

“Oh, that,” Peter mumbled. 

“Oh that, yes that,” Mr. Stark snapped, “what the hell were you thinking not telling me about that?”

“It happened after I left the other day,” Peter admitted, “and I thought I’d managed to deal with it myself.” 

“You thought-” Mr. Stark broke off and sighed, pinching his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “do you realise how irresponsible that was?” 

“It was fine,” Peter mumbled. 

“Fine?” Mr. Stark questioned, his voice rising an octave from the shock of hearing such a thing. 

“I have healing powers,” Peter said. 

“Kid, you’re still human, you still need appropriate medical care and time to recuperate after getting hurt,” Mr. Stark said gently, “you’re not a machine, no one expects you to be able to keep going without looking after yourself.” 

“I guess,” Peter whispered. 

“And you had no idea what you were doing, did you?” Mr. Stark asked although it seemed like he already knew, “those Steri-Strips were totally inappropriate for that wound.”

“I know,” Peter said, looking down, “I just didn't have anything else.” 

“You had your phone.” 

Peter cast him a confused look, “my phone? They don't like blood or moisture that much.” 

“To… call me,” Mr. Stark said slowly, looking at Peter with a strange mix of disappointment and amusement, “you’re a smart kid, but would you really think to put your phone on a bloody wound before using it to call me.” 

“Uh, not usually,” Peter said, “but this kinda happened after I left yours the other day.”

“Ah,” Mr. Stark murmured, seemingly understanding something that Peter hadn't yet explained. 

“What?” Peter asked, feeling unnerved by the older man’s sudden understanding. 

“I freaked you out with all that talk of colleges and coming to work for Stark Industries,” Mr. Stark said quietly. 

“What? No!” Peter almost shouted, jerking upright in the bed despite the pain in his ribs that threatened his ability to breathe, “Mr. Stark, that’s not at all what happened.” 

“No?” Mr. Stark asked, arching an eyebrow curiously. 

“No, of course not,” Peter mumbled, “I mean, yeah, I wasn't ready to think about that sort of thing, but it would be an honour to work for you in the future, but Mr. Stark, I realised that I’m a really bad intern.” 

“What- Kid, no,” Mr. Stark said quickly.

“I am!” Peter argued, “I don’t know how to make coffee, I don't know how to sort paperwork, I don't know what else interns actually do! There’s no way you can say I’m good at it when I don't even understand my own job description. You invited me to the Charity Gala as your intern and I freaked out because I didn't want to embarrass you, I wanted to make a good impression.”

“Kid, I invited you to the Gala as you,” Mr. Stark said, “we both know the internship is a fake formality to keep your alter ego a secret and give you a boost in your college applications.” 

“So, you’re not mad that I don't know how to make coffee?” 

“I never was,” Mr. Stark said, “wait… is this why you brought me an Americano earlier?” 

Peter nodded guiltily, “yeah…” 

“Kid, you absolutely did not have to do that, although I must admit since I’m staying away from all the fun stuff now, it was rather nice to have,” Mr. Stark said, “I wanted you there so you could have a good time and so that I could brag about how amazing you are.” 

Peter couldn't stop the warmth that spread over his cheeks and he ducked his head.

“I just didn't want to be a disappointment,” Peter mumbled. 

“Kiddo, you could never,” Mr. Stark sounded as though he had never been more sure about anything, “I’m slightly upset that you didn't come to me about this wound, but I get that your teenage brain works in mysterious mystery ways.”

“I tried my best with it,” Peter mumbled. 

“It’s infected.” 

“I didn't say my best was good,” Peter continued, he pulled the blankets to the side to look at the wound on his leg only to find that the bloody, yellowing dressing he had last seen was gone and had been replaced by a bright white one with only a tiny amount od seepage. “You fixed it.”

“Well, my doctor did,” Mr. Stark corrected, “I called him in and we gave you some of Cap’s meds to keep you a little out of it while we cleaned it up and you’re now the proud owner of some stitches.”

“Oh cool,” Peter mumbled. 

“Stitches are cool?” Mr. Stark asked with a raised brow, perhaps he was questioning Peter’s sanity. 

“No, I got Captain America’s drugs!” Peter said with a smirk, “he always tells us not to do drugs in those PSAs so this is a wonderful twist of medicated irony.” 

“Yeah, I think they’re still in your system a little,” Mr. Stark muttered, “so since you’re still a little dopey, I think now would be a good time to remind you that you have three fractured ribs and you’re not allowed to go out as Spider-Man until they’re fully mended.” 

“Wait… what?” Peter protested, “why?” 

“Swinging will put a strain on them and cause you pain meaning you could flinch and fall, or you could receive another blow and worsen the damage,” Mr. Stark said, “come on, Underoos, you were just bragging about your healing powers, it won’t be forever.” 

“But…” Peter hesitated. 

“But what?” 

“If I can’t be Spider-Man will I still be allowed to come to the workshop?” Peter asked and he focused his attention on fiddling with the sheets rather than facing the look he knew Mr. Stark would cast towards him. 

He wasn't ready for the ‘why would you come to the workshop if you’re not needing upgrades?’ response, the one that he knew in his head he was about to receive.

“Kid, what?” Mr. Stark responded instead, “look at me, Peter.”

Peter blinked back the tears that were building in his eyes, trying his best not to appear childish and weak before the man who had been his hero since he was a child. 

“Pete, c’mon Kiddo,” Mr. Stark said gently, and Peter found himself unable to avoid him any longer, “I don’t know why you have this idea that I only care about Spider-Man, because you are always going to be my number one priority.”

“But-”

“Uh uh,” Mr. Stark cut him off, “no, you need to listen to this. I’m Tony Stark, do you really think I would have a fifteen-year-old kid running around my home if I didn't want him there? Do you think I’d be texting his Aunt and arranging transport for him when she’s at work? Would I have a ridiculous amount of food and sweet things in my kitchen? Would I brag about him to my colleagues and competitors?” 

“But we spend so much time designing stuff for Spider-Man?”

“Because you are Spider-Man and no matter how much I wish you had a safer hobby, I know that you won’t quit helping people just to stop the greying of my hair and the wrinkles that are forming. So instead of sitting here panicking about you getting brutally killed, I help you develop things that will ensure your safety - which you then bypass by trying to teat that wound by yourself.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled, how had he gotten it so wrong? “I’m sorry.”

“Kid, don't apologise,” Mr. stark said, “listen, I’m the one who’s sorry for making you think that I only cared about Spidey, I know I’m as Pepper would say “emotionally constipated” but I really do care about you and your dorky interests.”

Peter couldn't help but smile, “well, in that case, I’m sorry for freaking out about the intern thing, and for hiding my injuries from you.” 

“Those are apologies I can accept,” Mr. Stark said with a smile, “although, I wouldn't be opposed to you turning up with coffee more, especially when we both know Happy’s the one paying for it, just… not Starbucks, ok? Try some smaller places, support local businesses and all that jazz.” 

“MJ would love that you said that,” Peter mumbled. 

“Yeah, yeah, come on then,” Mr. Stark said, his knees cracking as he stood and stretched.

“Come on?” Peter repeated, “where are we going?” 

“Someone has to explain all of this to your aunt and I’m not taking the blow on my own,” Mr.Stark said. 

“You can’t throw me under the bus,” Peter protested, “I’m injured.”

“Yeah, and I will be too if you’re not there to soften the blow.” 

Peter grumbled under his breath as he clambered out of the comfortable bed, May was going to be so pissed at him, in fact, he’d be lucky if he lived to see his Spidey-Suit ever again. Maybe he should write a will, did he had time for that? 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by Mr. Stark moving to his side to support his weight so that he didn't step too heavily on his sore leg. 

“You don’t have to help me,” Peter said, “I’ve been walking on it since I hurt it.”

“Yeah and look how that ended up,” Mr. Stark muttered, “anyways, this is as much for me as it is for you. May won’t kill me if she thinks I’m holding you up.”

“You’re using me!” Peter protested. 

“Now he gets it.” 

Tag List: @joyful-soul-collector @thatavengersbitch @clover-roseee @thespydersargon @iron-loyalty @ormbunkar @justme--emily @pookiethefrickinbunn @pillowspace @dumbofassbi @kiki44430

lemme know if you want to join/leave the tag list :D

[all-the-names-are-taken-aaaaa]

Saving Paris Final Straw

"We head back to Paris tomorrow" Tikki said sadly.

"Yeah we do" Marinette putting the last letter in the last envelope. "China is nice but we have a job." Sliding the envelopes into her bag Marinette moves to hug her dear friend. "We will come back when we defeat howkmoth."

"Hey Claude!" Marinette yells to get the boys attention. She inwardly flinches at how loud her voice got. "Yo Mari what's up" the boy says exactly. "Well it's your birthday today. Allegra said these are your favorite." Marinette does her best to act like her normal self as she hands the box to him. Claude takes the box and pauses for a moment "thanks Mari. Didn't know you did this for the whole school" Marinette laughs "we have a small school and you are kinda new so why not?" Claude made a mental note to ask Allen if Marinette always does these sort of things. Something seems off...

"We should head to class" Marionette points in the direction of her class. "Oh yeah we should thanks again Mari" He says rushing to his class. "Sweet you got a Marinette special!"Allan says almost as soon as Claude enters the room. "Of course he did Nette never forgets a birthday." Allegra states as if it was normal "Happy birthday by the way"

"Wait this is normal? Like I'm not in her class and we aren't friends. How does she even know it's my birthday" Claude asks setting the box on his desk. "Well she is part of the student council so she has basic information on everyone. Like birthdays and allergys. And I asked her one time why she did it. I believe her exact words were "it hurts to be forgotten and a single act of kindness can change everything." Allegra reveals.

"It's not just birthdays dude. If she knows something big has happened good or bad you will find yourself receiving some sort of amazing gift." Allan states and Aurora joins "Yeah when I lost the competition last year she made me a whole outfit to wear to the next competition. I tried to pay her but she refused. When Marc got sick she gave his mom some special soup from her uncle. It made him feel better almost eminently."

"Danm she's amazing." Claude says sitting down. Everyone in the school must have some sort of gratitude or respect for her going so far to help. "Too bad her class does not seem to realize that." Kagami stated with a broken pin in her hand. The entire room goes quiet. Kagami rarely enters conversations before class. The fact she was talking and the angry tone her voice held was not something anyone expected.

Allegra holds a sad look on her face "it is true. At this point I'm scared she will go back to..." Another pin broke. Allan gasped. Aurora made a chocking sound "No way. No way it could get that bad again" Allan then screeched "Hawkmoth that son of-" Kagami throws an eraser at him. "She would do anything for her friends. I have seen her fight off an akuma and manage to keep a butterfly away. I was not able to catch her befor she left as I saw it threw the window." Kagami states looking down. Claude felt even more respect for this girl.

"Look eather way she wouldn't want us having this conversation right now. She would want us to calibrate with Claude." And so they forgot for a while.

An akuma alert rang out around lunch. "My lady may I say you look perrrrfect today" chat says completely ignoring the akuma. "Chat we need to talk once this battle is ove" her voice is so plain no teasing on nothing. Chat nods and the akuma is taken care of quickly.

"Chat... My civilian self has been hurt a lot recently. I nearly became acumatized multiple times. I believe Hawkmoth is targeting me so I-" chat rushes forward to hug her "please don't leave"

Ladybug pushes him away "Chat I can not feel anything. No emotions No pain. It is because of a type of medicine. It only does this to a few but I am one of the few. I have to protect Paris so it had to be done" she swings off befor. Chat can respond.

Marinette sighed as she finishes up some of her commissions. "It is so hard to act it out Tikki. I could not do it as ladybug it would only destact me." Tikki sits on her shoulder nodding sadly. The other kwamis did not take the knees well eather but it was their only choice at this point. Even Plag was considering a new chosen if his did no learn to take things more seriously quickly.

A ring went through the room. "Time for another one." Marinette mumbles picking up the bottle of anxiety meds she used to take so long ago. Marinette has a unique reaction to the meds in that she feels nothing. It's rare and can be fixed by changing meds but Marinette lives in Paris and Paris is under attack by a magical supervillem.

One by one people in the school had special days and were greeted by presents from Marionette. The thing that was different was each presents was accompanied by a letter stating how she felt about the person. Several people were moved to tears by these letters.

"Marc what is wrong?" Aurora notices the look of completely shock and horror. He turns the phone to his classmate who lets out a scream quickly everyone rushes over including Ms. Mendeleiev. As soon as she sees the picture "were is she?" Marc drops his phone "Chloe and Nathaniel bought her to the nurse. She's how you described it Allegra..." Horror spreads through the classroom Kagami leaves not long after. It's silent for a long while... "This is their fault." Allan finely speaks. "Those letters were written befor she started the meds. When did she start the meds again" Aurora whispers. "Befor my birthday she went on that trip" Chaude states.

Allegra moves to the front of the classroom and stands beside Ms. Mendeleiev. "Look we do not know everything but we know Marinette. She would never have gone back on those meds unless she absolutely had too. All we can do is support her. Try to avoid her class we are all too angry. It would only cause problems if we acted right now. Everyone try to stay calm last thing we want is an akuma from this." Allegra takes out some chocolate from the teachers desk and hands it out. One of the ways to avoid akumas is to eat chocolate since it is scientificly proven to make people happy.

Later that day however Aurora overheard a conversation between Mylene and a new girl named who likes to be called Mix.

"Wait if all of the stuff Marinette makes is free then were does the costume money go?" Mix asks while looking over the budgeting from former plays and the current one. "Oh I donate it to charity" Mylene is so excited over explaining the charity that she does not notice the concerned look on Mix face. "I already donated this year's amount-" Mylene is cut of by Mix "but we do not have the costumes yet"

"It will be fine. Marinette can handle it" Mylene responds "Mix could you come help me fix some props" Aurora yells from were she is messing with tangled up Christmas lights. "Yeah no problem" Mix rushes over happy to be out of that situation. "Go along with what I say. We need out of hear quick." Auroror whispers. Mix nods. "Dang these lights are busted let's look for Mr. Bernard." Auroror says loud enough for most of the group to hear. "Yeah let's go" Mix says and they leave quickly.

"Fred Haprèle, my apologies about the abrupt meeting" Mr. Bernard sits down across from the father and daughter.

"It's no problem at all to come assist with anything my daughter may need." The man says.

"Yes well as you know Mylene has taken most of the response ability for costumes. We have a budget so there is always a good few hundred dollars. I have always wondered how she got designer cloths for that price though. I figured she worked out a dill with the maker since is a school event. It appears I was mistaken" Mr. Bernard pauses. How exactly do you tell someone their daughter stole to move up in a charity organizations? Of course Mylene winds up proudly explaining everything was free so she donated the money and moved up so many levels.

"You what?" The man stares at his daughter flabbergasted. "It appears she has also already done so this year as well." Mr Bernard states feeling bad for the mad.

"What the hell Mylene that is not your money to give away! Do not tell me your friend refused the money I have seen your plays. They trusted you with a huge responsibly and you do this" Fred Haprèle yells standing up. Only then does his daughter have the understanding to look ashamed. "But it went to charit-" "no it went were you thought you could gain the most from. We are leaving. Mr. Bernard please call me when it is figured out how much is owed and apologize to Marinette for me. She is the one that makes the costumes she is in the same class as Mylene."

Aurora and Mix later found out Mylene was pulled from Drama club until she could pay everything back. The next day they started planing extra fundraisers so they could afford costumes. Marinette at some point popped by and said she would design them for free but the club refused and eventually settled for whatever they could raise would go to Marinette.

Once the school found out about the drama more than Ms. Mendeleiev class started to distance themselves from the akuma class. Only exceptions being Marinette, Chloe, and, Nathaniel. When Marinette was not in class she was accompanied by people from other classes. They respect Marinette and her class was down right toxic. They tried to trip her regularly and said things under their breath a lot. After so many students expressed their concern for the girl in pink it was a matter of time before she transferred classes. It sucked the other teachers how Caline Bustier tried to fight it saying she was the class representative so she had to stay. Going as far as to try to guilt trip the girl. Too bad she couldn't feel guilt and Lila was all to glad to take the position from her. Some reports were made that day.

Though each class wanted the bluenette in their class it was decided she would transfer into Ms. Mendeleiev class.

"I got back on the meds because Hawkmoth is targeting me because of my strong sympathy." Marinette had long since figured out that they knew and just decided to answer their unasked question. The chalk in Ms. Mendeleiev hand shaped. Kagami created a crack in her desk. Allan popped the bouncy ball he was playing with. Auroror and Alegra stood up to get chocolate quicker then they ever had befor. Claude held his hands together to keep from lashing out. Marinette has been through enough they all thought as she lead them through breathing exsersizes.

That is how an entire school minus the akuma class and Marinette stormed the Agrest mansion after a month of tracking every akuma and documenting Lila working with Hawkmoth. They happily hand over the jewelry and footage to Queen Bee and (Nathaniel) Foxi.

The school watches in amusement as the akuma class falls apart. Marinette does no extra favors for them. Only birthday gifts. Her new friends show her her worth.

"Adrain she was never your everyday ladybug. She is everyone's everyday ladybug. She is the reason Hawkmoth is gone. You are lucky she pulled those favors to make sure people don't think you are like your dad" Chloe snaps. "She what-" Adrian starts. "Oh you idiot do you really think the media would not destroy you if given the chance? MDC is Marinette. A lot of people respect her and owe her a lot. Her word alone could end someone's career yet she chose to protect you and your stupid class. Wish Alya good luck with the lawsuits by the way. The warning ends soon. She she really listen to her lawyer when told to remove posts within 24 hours."

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

Masquerade

Pairing: Earth-2 Harrison “Harry” Wells x Gender Neutral!Reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of violence and injuries

Summary: A chance meeting with a handsome masked stranger takes an unexpected turn

A/N: Just a little something to celebrate the Spooky Season. Happy Halloween! 

The CCPD’s Halloween charity event had been one of your favorite nights of the year since you were a teen attending with your parents. And though you weren’t an official member of the force, you were still invited every year, and every year you couldn’t wait. 

The theme this Halloween was ‘masquerade’. Wear whatever costume you desire, but pair it with a mask. You’d chosen to stick with a classic vampire costume, wearing a black and deep red outfit with a matching red mask that was trimmed with shining black sequins, even going so far as to coat your hair in a sparkly wash out dye so you practically looked unrecognizable.

Roaming the hall that had been hired out, you sipped the toxic green fruity drink that was being served and mingled with the other party-goers. Some you were able to recognize, like Barry and Iris, others you had no idea about. It didn’t matter. Half the fun was in not knowing, and like this everyone was free to speak to anyone, regardless of role or rank. 

It was a couple of hours in when you spotted a man lurking by himself near the buffet table. Going by the cloak draped over his shoulders, he was channeling his inner vampire too, though instead of black and red, his colors of choice were black and a beautiful silver. With his dark hair and pale skin, he looked almost ethereal. And miserable if the scowl plastered to his face had anything to go by.

“Tonight isn’t meant to be painful, you know,” you said, coming to stand next to him and offering a glass.

He looked at the glass like you were giving him poison, and for a moment you thought he was just going to walk away, but then he raised his gaze to your face, eyes mostly hidden behind the black mask, and seemed to change his mind. He accepted the drink, “Easy enough to say when you’re a social butterfly.”

Laughing softly, you watched him take a long sip of the fruity cocktail, making a face at the sugary taste. “I don’t know if I’d say I’m that. I just like Halloween, and combining that with raising money for a good cause, what’s not to like?”

“Nothing. Unless money gets skimmed off the top.”

“No one does that.”

“Can you be certain?”

“Yes.”

“Are you always this positive?”

“I try to be. Are you always this cynical?”

“Yes.”

You laughed again, hard enough this time that you had to clutch at your ribs. He didn’t seem impressed. “Sorry. You just remind me of someone I know.”

The man huffed, the corner of his lips quirking up. “It’s fine. You remind me of someone I know too. They’re always almost annoyingly upbeat about everything.”

“They sound like my kind of person.”

“Of course they do.”

You smiled, moving around to him to pick up one of the tinily cut sandwiches. “So, if you really don’t want to be here, then why come?”

“I was...coerced. A friend said that it’d be ‘good for me to get out and attempt to be sociable for once in my life and maybe learn not to be a jackass’.”

Nearly choking on the food, you covered your mouth as you coughed and spluttered. He was next to you instantly, a large hand coming to rub your back. “Are you okay?” He asked.

You nodded, taking a drink to clear your throat. “Yeah. Just...I wasn’t expecting you to say that.”

“If you knew the guy who said it, you wouldn’t be.”

“I don’t doubt it.” You were recovered now, but his hand was still a warm presence on your back. Any other time you’d be uncomfortable having a strange man so close like that, but for whatever reason, you weren’t this time. It wasn’t just that he reminded you of someone, it felt like you actually knew him. Like you could trust him. Looking past him, you saw that more people had moved to the centre of the hall to dance. You motioned to them with a nod of your head. “Well, since you are here, care to join me on the dancefloor?”

He followed your gaze, grimacing. “I’m not much of a dancer.”

Tutting, you grabbed his hand. “C’mon! Don’t be a jackass and live a little!” 

You were grinning as you tugged him forward, and after a long sigh, he returned the smile. “Fine.

He let you guide him into the crowd and stayed close as you began to move to the music. He tried to join in but he hadn’t been lying when he claimed not to be a dancer. He was awkward and stiff in his movements and focusing so much it was nearly hilarious. Unable to help yourself you giggled a little, a decision you instantly regretted. He scowled and stopped. 

“This was a bad idea,” he said, already starting to move away.

“No, wait!” You grabbed his wrist to stop him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, honest. You were...you were just kinda cute, trying so hard like that.” You pulled him back towards you, happy when he allowed it. “Look, come here.” You stepped closer into his space, placing his hands on your hips while you wrapped yours around his shoulders. “You’re thinking too much about it. Just...feel the beat, sway with it. Like this.” You started dancing again, beaming when he followed your motions, still tense, but a little smoother. 

As close as you were now, it was easier to get a better look at him. Even with half his face hidden under the mask, it was easy to see he was handsome. His hair was a little lighter than you’d first thought, his face a little smoother too. In a way it was a relief. With the way he’d been speaking and acting, you were starting to think he was actually the grumpy scientist he reminded you of. Which would’ve been a problem. Because you would absolutely not be able to get away with dancing with him. Not without losing your dignity at least. With it not being him, you could relax and just enjoy yourself.

The music slowed, but rather than pull away, the mystery man closed what little distance was left between you until you were pressed flush together. He seemed even more at ease now, smiling softly as you swayed to the music.

“This is nice,” you said quietly, smiling back at him.

“It is. Thank you...for forcing me.”

“Sometimes we need a little push to leave our comfort zone.”

He hummed, inclining his head a little in agreement. He licked his lips and despite yourself, you couldn’t help but follow the motion. “Since I’m already well outside mine...can I say that I think you look beautiful?”

Cheeks heating, you chuckled nervously. “Thank you. You...you look really good too. That silver is gorgeous. I haven’t seen that shade before.”

“It’s a special one from my...home.”

“Your home must be stunning.”

“Not as much as it is here.”

“There must be something really special about Central City in that case.”

“There is.”

He had a certain look on his face. You knew it well from your own reflection. The man was smitten. “Or is it a special someone?”

He huffed a laugh, “Guilty. They’re...exceptional.”

“I get the feeling that’s high praise coming from you.”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“Do they know? How you feel?”

“No. If I have it my way they never will either.”

“Why?”

“You’ve met me. I’m cynical, brusque, grumpy-”

“A jackass?”

He laughed, nodding. “A jackass. And they’re...they’re like you.”

“Annoyingly upbeat?”

“And kind, hopeful. My antithesis. They wouldn’t be interested.”

You shrugged, “You never know, but...I understand.”

“You do?”

“Mmm. There’s a guy...a scientist. He’s...he’s a genius. Literally. He’s kinda like you too, but he’s also brave and he’d never admit it, but his heart is pure gold. He’d do anything for the ones he loves. And he’s...Harry is completely out of my league.”

He didn’t answer you. Instead, he just stared, mouth slightly agape. You were about to ask what was wrong when all hell broke loose.

A deafening white blast tore through the hall, smashing the windows in, blowing the furniture to smithereens, shattering the crystal chandeliers above your head. You were knocked back with everyone else, thrown across the debris coated floor until you hit a splintered table hard. 

The man you’d been dancing with groaned next to you. “Are you okay?” He asked, voice raised to be heard over the shouts and chaos. He was hovering over you, mask gone.

You nodded slowly. Your head hurt, but it didn’t feel like anything was broken. There was a flash of yellow lightning behind him. It nearly masked the way his face glitched. Glitched and changed from an unknown figure to...someone you knew all too well. 

Oh, shit.

There was another rumbling blast and Harry threw himself over you, shielding your body with his own. Clutching the soft material of his jacket was instinct, squeezing your eyes shut as you hid your face in his shirt, heart thundering in your chest.

“They’re gone!” Joe shouted somewhere to your left. “We need to get people out of here.”

Harry pulled back, breathing hard as he looked down at you. You stared back. Between the fear and the adrenaline, any thoughts on what to say, how to explain yourself vanished. His gaze dropped. “You’re bleeding.”

“What?”

“Your arm.”

You followed his eyes and sure enough the sleeve of your costume had been torn, revealing an ugly looking gash slicing across your bicep. You hadn’t felt it at first, but now, now the pain was setting in harsh and throbbing. Harry was already tearing the sleeve of his jacket, tying the material tightly around the injury.

“We need to get you medical help,” he said.

“We need to get back to the Labs. Barry is gonna need us.”

“The injury-”

“Caitlin can take care of it.”

Harry didn’t look happy, but he nodded, getting to his feet and helping you up too. It was easy to find Cisco, and once you were all somewhere private enough, he breached you back to the Labs before rushing to help Barry with the meta. 

A couple of hours, some improvised tech and a bit of teamwork later, you had the meta caught and locked up, and you were perched on one of the beds in the med area while Caitlin finished stitching and dressing your arm properly. 

Just as she was done, and you were carefully rolling down the sleeve of the S.T.A.R Labs sweatshirt you’d borrowed, Harry, who’d disappeared soon after Barry and Cisco returned, reappeared dressed in his usual all black ensemble. He hovered in the doorway, frowning as Caitlin gave you some pain meds. 

“Thanks, Cait.”

“No problem,” she smiled, looking between you and Harry. You hadn’t said anything to her, but you got the feeling she knew. “I’ll leave you two alone, but get some rest soon, okay?”

“Yeah. I will.”

She left then, and Harry waited until he was sure no one else was around before approaching the bed slowly. “Are you alright?”

You nodded. “Physically, I’ll be fine. Emotionally, I’m not sure I’ll ever get over the embarrassment.”

“You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. This was my fault. I shouldn’t have even been there. Ramon insisted I be his ‘plus one’, and set up the facial transmogrification device just in case I was recognized.” 

You nodded again, avoiding his eyes in favor of playing with the hem of your sweater. “Did you know it was me?”

“Not at first. When you said my name it all clicked.”

“So if I’d just kept my mouth shut, things could’ve gone on as normal. Great.”

“Y/N, what you said-”

“I know, and I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I won’t mention anything about it again, especially now I know that there’s someone else who’s caught your eye.”

You heard rather than saw as Harry grabbed a chair and pulled it around so he was sitting level in front of you. “I thought you would’ve figured it out by now.”

“Figured what out? That I’m an idiot who fell for someone I’ve no right falling for? I got that.”

“No.” Fingers were under your chin, gently coaxing your gaze back up. “Figured out that I was talking about you.”

You stared at him, “You were?”

“Yes. You’re the reason I love this Earth so much.”

“Oh.” Not the smartest reply you’d ever come up with, but you weren’t entirely sure what else to say either especially when Harry’s thumb was stroking your cheek. 

“When you said my name...I almost didn’t believe it at first.”

“Why?”

“Because I couldn’t believe that I deserved your affection.”

“Harry...you’re...you’re everything I could want.”

“As are you.”

You smiled, bringing your hand up to cover his own. “See? I told you Halloween was the best.”

Harry chuckled softly, nodding. “I’ll give you this one.”

“Good.”

Harry leaned in. You met him halfway. 

Best Halloween ever.

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! I’ll love you forever!

[lord-explosion-baku]

Hero Santa

Sero x fem!reader

Warnings: yellow sour fruit, swearing

A/N: wow it’s been a long time that I’ve posted a oneshot. Sorry about that. My job keeps me busy and the fic I’m writing takes priority. This isn’t a request either so I’m ;;; this is entirely self-indulgent. I’ve just discovered a newfound love for mr. tape boy and wanted to write something about him. There’s a lot of cringey things in here. Like, secondhand emebarssment type things. But I just wanted to write something funny and wholesome, straying away from the incessant dubcon that litters my blog. If this makes you embarrassed then I think I’ve done my job right? If this makes you smile, then double points for me, I guess! Also, fuck you, I'm still mourning the loss of blockbuster movies so it exists in this one shot. huzzah.

You barrel in through Sero’s threshold, clutching your sides as you bust out laughing, exhilarated from you and Sero’s grand escape from a dastardly encounter— you seeing your ex boyfriend in public. Sero flings himself after you, clamping his hands down on your shoulders practically shaking as he tries to catch his breath.

“D-do you think he saw us??” He snickers, twirling around you to throw his house keys down on his front door counter top.

“I’m sure he did! He said my name right before you grabbed me!”

Sero’s grin widens as he sifts through your bag to grab one of the many sweet treats he picked out for the both of you. “But are you really sure that he saw us?”

“Sero, you literally spider-manned us out of blockbuster. The entire store saw us! They’re going to have to get a long ass ladder to get that tape off the ceiling!” You grin at him and with your best, most formal tone, you mock, “that was quite indecent, young man!”

“Ehhh. I’m sure they have somebody at the blockbuster who was like a leg extension or flying quirk. They’ll be fine!

You snort. “I can’t believe you just referred to blockbuster as ‘the blockbuster’ like you’re some kinda old lady!”

“Now, why don’t you make a decision on what my identity is? Who am I: Spider-Man or Gammy NumNums?”

“Who am I to say? I don't know Spider-Man’s secret identity. How are we so sure that Gammy NumNums herself isn’t Spider-Man?

“Oh shit, I think you’re onto something there.” Sero plops down on his couch, setting his treats down on the table next to it. “I’m really living the greatest triple life, huh? The best of all worlds.”

“I’ll say.” You mosey into the room, vibrating with happiness and comfort you get whenever you’re in Sero’s house. You nod at the pile of blankets he has at his feet. The two of you are going to be having a blanket fort movie night, something you’ve been looking forward to all week long. “Shall we get started?”

“Nah nah nah, lemme take care of all of this! Can you get the popcorn ready?”

You nod and grab two different packets from your bag. “Butter or kettle? I couldn’t decide.”

“What do I look like, an animal? Butter! Buttery butter. I want my popcorn to slide off my fingertips!”

You mock a gag. “I think maybe you are an animal,” you say and throw a pillow at Sero’s face before hopping to the kitchen before he could retaliate.

You leave the room with a giant smile on your face. Back at the store, you let yourself freeze in front of your ex while a thousand thoughts ran through your head. It’s always been odd seeing him in public after the two of you broke up, but every time you have seen him, you’ve been able to hide yourself immediately. Thankfully Sero was there when you were discovered and you recovered from your mental paralysis as soon as he swung the two of you out and away from him.

Sero has really been a special kind of hero towards you since your breakup. He’s been nothing but supportive of you— there for you whether you needed a shoulder to cry on or someone to bring a smile to your face. Sero is your guy. Sometimes both! You recall an instance where you were done crying but had said something along the lines of “my heart might be broken,” and without hesitating, Sero clicked out a piece of his tape and placed it over your chest, telling you that he’d be there to fix it. That’s when you first realized that maybe your heart could change fall into a new direction. He has really become something very… special to you. You find your heart skipping a beat during certain instances. If his hand lingers on your waist for a second longer than you’re used to, your mind goes haywire. It’s funny— you know you have feelings for him, and you’re pretty positive he might reciprocate those feelings, but the two of you avoid saying anything about it like the plague. You’re completely comfortable with him, but sometimes when you’re alone, when you’re close, the air grows thick with tension and the two of you sit in silence until one of you inevitable break the silence by making some lame joke. But god, sometimes you just want to hold the boy down and smooch his face!!

You pause in the hallway to check yourself in the mirror, pursing your lips as you turn to inspect your teal blue pajama bottoms. You sigh, embarrassed to have been in public with your lounge wear: slippers and all. If you had been expecting to see anybody, you would’ve done your makeup, maybe put on a skirt and some cute boots, but he saw you looking like a slob with a shit ton of candy in your hands.

After you pop your corn, you return to Sero’s living room, amazed at how quickly he made the fort transformation. Blankets hang from the walls and ceiling, cascading down with nice curves centering on an arena of fluffy pillows with Sero sprawled out in the middle, languidly pushing chocolate covered cookie dough into his mouth while he bats at the controls to get the movie started. You pause at the doorway, shifting your weight from one leg to another nervously until he looks at you, lifting a brow when you bite your lip.

“I know,” he says with a grin, “I’m absolutely brilliant.”

“You’re just alright.” You take you seat next to the boy, and burrow your cold feet under his legs. He gives you a funny grin, but you shrug it off. “I’m cold!”

“I think I-“ Sero presses his lips together, a worried look crawling over his face “-I’m certain I spared a blanket or two for us to actually use.”

He takes a moment to look around and after he finds nothing, he gives you a wide eyed stare. “Oh no.”

“See, this is why you're just alright.”

Sero hops up. “No, no, no— I’m not just alright. I’m the king of this here fort.” Sero raises his hands to feel around for a blanket used for the roof that’s unnecessary for the structure. His shirt lifts, exposing his tight midriff to you, and you tell yourself to look away, but you just can’t bring yourself to. Your eyes linger on his naval before drifting down towards his gray sweatpants where you can definitely make out the outline of his dick. You could scream.

“Do forts usually have kings?”

“This one does.”

You get to you knees, fully aware of how it might look to him if he so much as glances down, and ask, “if you’re the king, what would that make me?”

“That’s easy,” Sero says, carefully peeling some tape off a loose blanket, “you’re the princess.”

“HA! So you’re my dad?!”

Sero snickers before his eyes meet yours, blanket falling into his hands. He hesitates for a moment while he looks down at you, his brows furrowing as the tips of his ears grow to be a redder hue.

“Absolutely not,” he whispers in a tone softer than you’re used to. The blanket fall to the floor, but Sero stays stock still, eyes glazing over as he takes in your suggestive position.

“Then how does this work?” You quip, growing all the more embarrassed that you’re practically begging for him to make a move while at the same time, doing absolutely nothing.

“Don’t you remember?” Finally, he crouches down, leveling his head with yours. You can feel his breath dance across your face as he continues, “I swept you off your feet. Stole you right out from under the nose of a beastly emperor. The princess is merely a guest at my fort; it’s a safe haven for her.”

“Then one could say that the princess owes the king a lot for saving her life…”

“The king is only happy when the princess is safe and happy. She owes him nothing.”

“Is that so…?” You reach a hand into the popcorn bowl, grin sinisterly at ‘the king’, and buck a handful of the buttery goodness Sero loves so much right at his face. “Little did you know, the princess has been planning to assassinate the king in order to take the fort for herself!”

“Damn you, princess!” Sero laughs, throwing his own handful right back at you. “The king has been betrayed one too many times after giving in to acts of charity!”

“The king is a fool!” You yell, swinging a pillow at his face, knocking him back into his cushioned seminar. “Long live princess me!!”

Sero moves to remove your assault weapon from his face, only to have you climb on top of him to pin his hands behind his back

“You suck.”

“You sure wish I would.”

“I—“ Sero’s face flushes beat red while you smirk down at him. You tighten your thighs hold around him but get distracted by something poking your chest. It’s popcorn.

“Oh. Ew.” Without thinking, you pull the bits out from your bra and pop them into your mouth. Sero gives you a funny grin and it’s your turn to flush. You hide behind your hands and cry, “GAHH! I’m not a princess! I’m a troll!”

Sero uses this opening to his advantage, grabbing onto your hands and using sheer strength, flings you onto your back, panning you down against a pillowy wonderland.

“Ahhh curse your hero training,” you laugh, wiggling your legs around so you can lay more comfortably under your faux assailant.

“Troll princess,” Sero sighs, his warm breath cascading down your neck, causing shivers to prickle all across your body, “I've got you now.”

“Oh nooo.” You toss your head back, subtly lifting your pelvis to press against his. Heat floods into your belly when you feel his hardening erection pulsate against you. This isn’t what friends do and you know that. He has to know that, too. “The King’s got the poor, helpless princess locked beneath him. Whatever can she do? Whatever will he do?”

Sero goes silent. His eyes scan over your face, lips patting when they land in yours. You’re unsure of what to do— what to say. At this point you might as well tell him to kiss you.

“I don’t wanna play this game anymore,” he says in a sort of morose way. You heart falls and your stomach goes to knots. Maybe you were wrong about him feeling the same way for you do? Maybe the two of you are just really good friends. But his hands don’t move from their pinned position.

“Sero… we don’t have to do this if you don’t w—“

Your sentence gets cut short by Sero’s lips suddenly locking onto yours. You hum in surprise, but kiss him back, your skin practically screaming in delight when his tongue slides over your bottom lip. You try to reach up to him but Sero’s bolted hands hold your wrists firmly, keeping them above your head and all you can do is roll your tongue over his, trying to catch as much of him as you can before the kiss breaks.

But it doesn’t. He pushes your wrists together so he can hold you with one hand while the other slides down to your body, caressing your side until he squeezes your waist. You lift your pelvis and his arm wraps around your back, pulling you closer against his body. His cock rubs against your pubic bone and you can’t help but imagine what it may feel like inside of you.

You manage to free one of your hands and swiftly move it down to his sweats, greedily massaging him through his pants. Finally Sero pulls away, a trail of saliva connecting your lips to his.

“Oh, heh~,” he says, seizing your hand. “I’m, uh, really sensitive…”

“Oh? I’d like to see just how-“ again, you’re cut off by Sero claiming your lips, the kiss more forceful the second time around. It’s messy, and wet, and desperate, and you find yourself sighing into his mouth every time you get a chance to breathe, only to have those short moments thrown away by your own need possessing your body to kiss him back harsher, hands reaching up to his hair to tug and pull, exciting you when you hear a groan build up in the back Sero’s throat.

“Fuck.” Sero’s lips meet your neck, his hand resting against your exposed belly. It’s cold but you don’t mind; your body craves his cool touch. Using his tongue, Sero draw a long strip up from your neck to your ear, causing your body to shudder. You practically melt when he whispers, “I want you. I want you so bad. You have no idea.”

You sigh as Sero nibbles in your ear, his hands boldly exploring farther up your body. “I… think I have some idea.”

“Nuh-uh.” Sero leans back, his eyes shamelessly scanning over your body. You didn’t think it possible, but your skin warms up even more from his lingering gaze. As much as you like the attention, you want his hands right back on you pronto. “There’s no way you could possibly like me as much as I like you…”

You scowl at him. Too much talking and not enough kissing. You pull your shirt off and unclasp your bra, throwing your garments to the side, exposing yourself to him. Nervous tingles nip at your body, but the look on his face, the way his eyes flick from your face to your chest and back to your face as his adam’s apple bobs, makes it all worth it.

“Shit… you’re so— you’re everything to me, I need you to know that, like, if you’re at all uncomfortable or like if I do something you don’t like— god, you’re gorgeous, I just wanna—“

“-Sero…” You take his hands in yours and lead them back to your body. “Please… touch me.”

“Y-yeah…”

Sero presses his lips to yours in a sweeter manner, him molding to you nearly perfectly as his hands run up your sides. Goosebumps erupt across your body when he pushes you back down against the pillows. His right hand cups your breast as he trails kisses down your chest, only pausing when he begins to snicker.

“What?”

“Salty,” he says, his tongue licking dangerous close to your nipple. “You taste like popcorn.”

“Ohhhh noooooo-ahhh~!”

A pretty sight: Sero’s pink tongue rolling out to lav over your puckered bud. 

His lips wrap around your nipple; he sucks and your body jolts forward. He’s not the only one who’s sensitive. His eyes meet yours and he offers you a sinister grin. “I like it.”

Your breathing grows heavy while Sero makes his way down your stomach, making sure to pay extra attention to the places that make you squirm when he kisses them. He gets to your pajama shorts and pets your clothed slit with a knuckle. Your hips buck up when he leans down and licks you through your shorts, excited pulsations grabbing at your core. You need more.

Your shorts fly off by your own doing, whether it’s to get the ball rolling or if you want him to be giving you the exact same lustful stare he is now is lost to you, but you’ll take it. You love it. You want him to look at you like that forever.

Sero pets your core, his own breath shuddering as you roll your hips at his touch.

“You’re already so fucking wet,” he says, annunciating every word as if it pains him to say it. He rests his head in your thigh as he lazily teases you, seeming to enjoy your light mewling that comes when his fingers grow closer to your clit, the way your body moves to his touch. “I want it.”

“What ~ahah~ what are you gonna do about it?”

“Hmmm.” To your severe displeasure, Sero removes to hands, only to strip himself of his own shirt. You stare at him in awe; of course you’ve seen him shirtless before, but under these circumstances, it’s different. And you’re sure he’s bulked our a bit since the last time you caught him half-naked. Goodness.

“Ohh my god,” you sigh when he tosses his shirt to the sigh, the sight of his muscles moving over you incredibly enticing.

“What?” Sero gets to his elbows and spreads your legs open for him. He gives your pussy a long lick and groans, closing his eyes when he kisses your pubic bone. “You got something to say?”

“You’re just… so… ohhhh~!”

Sero begins laving at your heat, drowning the room with your surprised moans. His skillful tongue traces your caverns until his mouth is covered in your need. He eats you out like he’s starving for it— hell, he could’ve been famished if he says there’s no way you can like him more than he likes you. His tongue circles your clit, his never ceasing groans adding to your pleasure. You reach down as grasp at his soft hair, massaging his head as he toys with your sensitivity.

“So what, Princess?” He asks as his fingers tease your hole. The nickname sends shivers up your spine. You don’t mind it, you just didn’t think that something so cheesy could sound so hot coming from him.

“So— ahhh ahah~!” A loud moan you aren’t expecting tears out from your throat when Sero plunges two fingers into your depths. He chuckles and returns his attention back to your clit, watching your face contort in pleasure through heavy eyelashes. He sucks in you while his fingers curl against your walls, the threat of your own release building up against your stomach. You moan and pull his hair, whispering incomprehensible words, trying to find the right way to encourage him, the right way to warn him that you’re close.

“I know, I’ve got a big tongue, huh?” Oh, so he could be a smug bastard, too?

“Sssaaah~” You try saying his name, but it’s lost to you. You don’t know what to call him: Hanta? Sero? He’s been your friend for so long that saying his actual name might sound weird on your tongue, but what if saying his last name sounds weird to him? “Hero…”

“Hmmm?” His low voice murmuring into your core sends your body into a frenzy. Your body starts to shake and grip onto the cushions to keep you grounded, but that doesn’t save you from the next word you yelp out as your body is lost to ecstatic fits.

“Fuck! Oh god, Santa~ nnng~ hah~!” You squeeze your thighs together, locking him in as he gifts you with little kitten licks, elongating your excruciating orgasm with the low reverberations of his voice while he laps up your pleasure.

Your body settles but that doesn’t stop him at first. He savors your twitching body, kissing your swollen bud tenderly, brushing his hands across your sweat covered body, until he looks up at you and grins.

“So you have some kinda Christmas kink?”

You catch your breath, gazing up at the makeshift blanket ceiling, before looking back down at his goofy, red face. “What do you mean?”

“You just called me ‘Santa.’ I mean, Christmas isn’t for another month but I’m sure I could find a Santa hat somewhere if that’s what you’re into. I live to please.”

“Oh no.” You bury yourself behind your hands. “No I didn’t. No, no, noooo!!”

Sero climbs on top of you and kisses your hands. “Hey,” he sings at you, “don’t hide. I don’t kink shame.”

You grab a pillow a fling it into his face. “Shut up! Noooo!”

The two of you laugh together, his breath fanning you as he buries his head in the crook of your neck. The two of you stay like that for mere seconds but it feels like an eternity. He made you cum, but still, you crave him. You want more of him.

“That was actually really hot.” You feel him grin against your neck. “You forgetting my name. It kinda made me feel good. Really good.”

“I could… I could make you feel better,” you whisper, wrapping your hands around his back, using your fingernails to tickle his skin. He flushes.

“Is that so?” He leans down and pecks your lips. “‘Cause I wasn’t done with you. I wanna see if I can make you say all seven reindeers’ names.”

“Oh, fuck you!”

He quirks a brow. “You wanna?”

...Desperately. “Yes.”

Sero’s all too quick to free himself of his sweats and you side him by pulling his boxers down. You gulp at the sight of his erection; it’s a nice size with a beautiful curve, pre-cum already seeping out through the slit of his reddened head. You look to him and bite your lips. You grasp at the base of his length and guide his cockhead to to your mouth, pulling you tongue out to lick at his knob.

“Ahh~, um, I’m really-“

“Sensitive?” You ask before lulling your tongue underneath his cock.

“Y-yess,” he hisses, grasping at your hair to pull you back.

You grin wryly back at him. “Then how’s this going to work?”

“With me in control-“ he smirks “-lay back princess.”

You pout at him but he moves to kiss your neck, gently pushing your shoulders down so you’re back on the cushions. You reach your hands up and arch your back, an obvious ploy to get him all the more hot and bothered, and not an unsuccessful one at that.

“God damn,” he breathes, stroking his cock while taking in your figure. “God, I lo—… I need to say something before we go any further.”

“Hmmm?” You run your hands down your body. You stop at your breasts, teasing your nipples, and biting your lips. “You can say anything to me.”

“Sweet Jesus, you’re not making this easy.” He sighs and falls over you. A hand cups your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your lips. It looks like he’s eating to say something serious, but you can hardly think straight with his hardened dick resting against your thigh.

“This,” he says, stroking the back of his hand against your cheek, “can’t be… I can’t be just a rebound for you. I know I might not seem like it, but I’m an all or nothing kinda guy. You can either just be my friend—my really good friend that I’ll think about for all eternity, or you can be… my friend who I’m allowed to take on dates and kiss in public and have high make out sessions whenever we want…”

Oh! Oh he’s asking you out! You can’t help the grin from spreading across your face, but you don’t realize you’re not responding until he continues with—

“And if you’re not yet over that guy… I think I can wait for you, but I don’t… want to get my hopes up or anything…”

Sero your DICK is on my THIGH!

“Sero, you’re not a rebound. I would be very happy if you would take me on dates, kiss me in public, and have high make out sessions with me. I’d even be happy if I get to call you my boyfriend.”

He beams. “You mean that?”

“Yesss, I do. We were practically dating already!”

“Nahhh, I’ve just been warming you up. You don’t know dating until we’ve conquered the entire laser tag arena together.”

This dork. “Then I’ll wait for that with bated breath. Now, please for the love of god, fuck me before I explode!”

“Oho, we can’t have that…”

Sero lines himself up with center, allowing his cockhead to toy with your hot, needy entrance. He curses and rolls his head back as he inches himself forward, testing your heat before pulling out completely. His eyelids grow heavy when he pushes into you again and you feel yourself clamp down on him. You whimper. He feels bigger than he looks and it takes some pull before he’s completely inside you, but god, oh god, after you get used to it, you can’t help but moan as his dick slides in and out of you.

“Mmmphhhfuck, that’s good.” Slowly, Sero rolls his hips, gently fucking you at a near excruciating pace. He breathes through his teeth as his cock grinds into your walls. It feels fantastic having the head of his cock rubbing against the certain spot deep inside you. His arm wraps around your back and he pulls you flush against him, your breasts bouncing against his chest as he quickens the pace, kissing you fiercely, hungrily , while his hands lock you into place.

“You don’t know,” he seethes, “how long I’ve wanted this.”

He bites down in your neck and you claw at his back, mewling. The force, even though he’s taking his time, is addicting and you find yourself syncing up with him in no time; cursing, and panting as you sync up with him. He feels so good that you could cry, instead, you beg.

“More,” you sigh, practically his humping cock, “please Sero. I ahhh~ I need more!”

Sero growls and it sends you body spinning with lust and agony. He pushes you back down and forces himself to his hilt, making you cry out in sheer ecstasy. He presses his hand against your belly, pulls out and pushes back in with the same extremity. “More?” He growls in a sort of sensually dark tone that floods your body and shakes you to your core. “You want more, babe? I’ll give the princess anything she wants!”

“Fuuuck!” You cry, filling the room with pathetic moans as Sero drills into you with such indignant fury that it nearly makes your eyes go black. Your body grows wet with perspiration and lust, Sero pushing into you with pools of his own sweat meshing with yours.

He silences your pathetic moaning with a violent kiss, biting down on your bottom lip while he greedily paws at your breasts. Then, he stills completely, pulling back, fanning your face while he pants, “ho ho ho, amiright?”

“PFFFFT NOOO!!” Your belly clenches as the two of you bust out laughing, until Sero eyes completely glaze over.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he groans. “Keep laughing, that feels so—ohhhhh fuck!”

Something completely takes him over and you laughter turns to screams of delight when he starts completely pulverizing you with such an intense, bruising velocity that you could see your soul escape your mouth. He slams into you, lifting your leg over his head, keeping his quick and relentless pace until you feel his cock begin to throb.

“You’re. Just. So. Fucking. Hot!” he says through gritted teeth. His fingers quickly dance around your clit, rubbing at your pleasure until you feel yourself coil and your cunt flutters around his girth. “God, I can feel it. You’re close. Fuck! Babe, you need to cum. Princess, please, I can’t-!”

“I’m ~nggg~ so close!!”

Sero kisses you, shoving his tongue against yours, urgently needing to taste you. His dick twitches within you, his fingers desperately trying to get you to keep up. Your hair stands up on the back of your neck. Your coil breaks. You clench around him and allow waves of pleasure to burst through you as he rams into you with rigorous intent. You cling on to him, crying out about how good he feels, how you can’t stand not having him fill you up, how you want to feel his everything deep, deep inside of you.

Sero grunts and ruts into you. Warmth floods your core as thick ropes of cum line your hungry walls. There’s so much and it doesn’t seem to stop coming as he slows his grooving, kissing your forehead while his orgasm chases yours. You breathe in sync with one another, staring each other in the eyes, unsure of what to say, what to do, before he finally pulls out and let’s you leak onto the cushions.

“Oh, whoops,” he says, inspecting the mess. “Lemme just— warm towel…”

He hops up, but you grab him by the wrist and pull him down into a kiss. He grins against you and you feel yourself growing jubilant with everything that just happened.

“You’re incredible,” you say, holding him there for a moment before letting him back up.

“No, you.”

“Pfft!”

“I mean it!” He brings his hands up in mock defense. “You have no idea! You have no idea! I just-! Lemme get a towel and then I’ll shower you with praise!”

Sero is gone and back in a flash, warmed wet towel in hand. He takes his time wiping the sweat off your body, making sure to talk uncharacteristically sweet to you while he takes care. He wraps you in the blanket that hath forsaken him and cleans the white mess on the cushion before joining you under said blanket. His body is warmer than the blanket and you love it.

“Sooo… the movie. Movie night with my girlfriend!”

“Ha! That’s right! This is one of my favorite movies so you better pay attention! No distractions!”

“Mhmmm,” he hums half-heartedly. “No distractions.”

But even while the movie plays, your warm bodies are pressed right up against each other. There’s definitely going to be more distractions. The two of you have been waiting for this for too long, and Sero has to prove that he’s not just alright, and he certainly wants to learn all about your secret Christmas kink.

TAGS FOR EVERYTHING: @ayeputita @yandere-inamorata @dee-madwriter @unboundbnha @rizamendoza808, @rubycubix @smbody-stole-mycar-radio @zellllyyyy @sarcastictextstuck @kpanime @captain-sin-allmight-queen @psionicsnow @wickedlewicked @ghost-of-todoroki @kattariapenn @im-an-adult-sometimes @bnhya @local-senpai @eggpienutbuttercroissant @usernamekate94 @reyvenclaww @hi-ho-and-hello @rubyred-imagines

[imaginingsoftly]

Wedding Date Pt. 2 - Tyler Seguin

Type: strangers-enemies-lovers, series

Requested: no

Warnings: swearing, asshole exes

A/N: Hey guys! I know I said these installments were going to come out on Thursdays, but I feel like my fellow Americans currently losing their shit could use a distraction. Remember that it’s out of our hands at the moment, and you deserve to take a break from the news coverage. Breathe. We’ll get through this. I love you all.

Tyler hadn’t asked any questions about Melissa’s sudden disappearance from the brunch after she woke up grumpy and disoriented before the rehearsal dinner, and she appreciated the hell out of him for it. Instead, he’d brewed her some coffee and talked about his dogs and life in Dallas. Somehow he could tell that she needed some time to not think about anything significant, and he’d given that time to her like it was nothing. 

Attending the rehearsal on his arm was almost fun, and he helped get her back to the suite early. Most of the group probably thought they were breaking off to go hook up, but that was fine as long as Melissa could get into her bed faster. He’d walked her all the way to her bedroom, despite her laughter that she could walk across the living space by herself, and she’d smiled that night as she fell back to sleep. 

Now they were getting ready for their respective roles in the wedding, Tyler as a guest/ wrangler of the middle-aged relatives, Melissa as the Maid-of-Honor. Tyler grinned appreciatively as Melissa handed him a cup of freshly-brewed coffee, and she turned back to the french press to make herself a cup when her phone began to ring. It was probably Kirsten freaking out about something, even though the wedding was a good 8 hours away. “Tyler, could you get that for me?” He could handle his cousin just as well as she would have, and hearing Tyler answer Melissa’s phone might put Kirsten in a good mood. 

“Hello?” Tyler’s voice, gravelly from sleep, sent a shiver up Melissa’s spine. Hearing that first thing in the morning was something she would be interested in getting used to. She snuck a glance over at Tyler to see him already looking at her, smirking like he knew what was going through her head. 

“Who the fuck are you?” The familiar voice, dripping in attitude and disgust, sent another sort of shiver down Melissa’s spine. Her ex, and not the hipster beer guy. 

“What the hell do you want, Liam?” Tyler looked at Melissa confusedly as she spoke, and she shook her head. Later, she tried to tell him with her eyes. He understood, and Melissa took the outstretched phone. “I told you to leave me the fuck alone.”

There was silence on the other end of the line, and for a second Melissa thought that maybe Liam had hung up. “I can’t believe you’re hooking up with someone else. This won’t look good to my parents, Melissa. It’s time to come home. Stop throwing fits.” Tyler threw a sharp look at her, like he actually believed what Liam was saying, and Melissa had enough. 

“I am not your goddamn girlfriend, Liam, so stop acting like I am.” He tried to interrupt her, like he always did, but she cut him off. “No. I’m not fucking finished. I love my job, I love my friends, and I love my freedom. I’m not interested in being some rich fucker’s trophy wife and I’m definitely not interested in being yours. Leave me the fuck alone before I get a restraining order.” She hung up before he could get another word in, throwing her phone on the counter in anger. “Motherfucker!” 

The timer for the french press went off, and Melissa prepped her coffee with jerky, angry movements. She could sense Tyler staring at her from his seat on the counter, but she ignored him as she continued to mutter curses under her breath. She should have blocked his number a long time ago, but she didn’t trust him not to just get a new one in order to reach out to her. At least this way she had proof of his continued calls and texts in one spot. 

Tyler’s voice broke through Melissa’s cloud of anger, and she actually jumped a little bit at the sound of his voice. “Bad breakup?” Melissa scoffed. He had no idea. “Well,” Tyler said with a bit of a laugh in his voice, “I can tell you one thing.” He waited until she turned to face him, an eyebrow raised, before he continued. “I’d be honored to have you as my trophy wife.” No he did not. Melissa gaped at him, more shocked he had made a joke about the conversation than about the actual comment. 

She didn’t really think, she just reacted. Tyler laughed as Melissa’s coffee spoon came flying in his direction, and he caught the utensil with ease. Her heart felt light, lighter than it usually did after phone calls from Liam, and Melissa found herself smiling back. “Hipster beer guy wasn’t my most recent ex. He was actually a guy from college, so a while ago.” Tyler nodded, and she noticed that he leaned forward like he was interested in the story she was about to tell. “I dated Liam for about 6 months last year. We met at a dinner for the university that I work at, some charity thing where the donors get to come and make sure we know that they pay our salaries.” Tyler cringed, and Melissa was sure he at least kind of understood where she was coming from. 

“Liam didn’t seem like the other donors. He’d gone to the dinner in place of his parents, and we talked for a couple of hours. He seemed sweet.” She didn’t see the red flags that she normally would have, mostly because he looked so friendly. Apparently being raised by rich and heartless parents taught you some pretty impressive false empathy skills. She wasn’t wholly convinced he actually felt empathy at all, actually. “We started dating, and it just felt easy. We were both so busy that we hardly saw each other, and I told myself I liked that. I realized later that I didn’t like the distance from a partner, I just liked the distance from him.”

“One night like a week before we hit the 6 month mark Liam invited me to dinner with his parents. I hadn’t met them yet, because apparently they were super busy running their empire, so I was pretty nervous. Liam is a pretty driven guy, and I had assumed he got it from his parents. The dinner went wrong from the beginning.” Melissa paused as Tyler patted the space on the counter next to him. She hopped up gratefully, and he squeezed the shoulder closest to him. 

“Just wanted you to be comfy. I have a feeling this next part is going to be a doozy.” 

Melissa laughed at Tyler’s choice of phrasing, though she nodded because he was correct. It was a doozy for sure. “You have no idea. So we get there, and I’m immediately othered when everyone shows up in cocktail dresses and suits and I’m over there in my teaching pants and a blazer. His mother looked like she had just sucked on a lemon when I walked into the room, and she glared down at my hand when I introduced myself like I was going to give her some kind of disease.” That wasn’t even half of it. She’d also made some snide comments under her breath about where the clothing had come from, though Tyler didn’t really need to hear that detail. 

“We finally sat down for dinner after some of the most uncomfortable cocktail conversation I’ve ever had, and then I make a giant mistake. I mention my job.” Tyler reacts perfectly, throwing a hand over his heart and fake gasping. Melissa chuckled a bit. “Yeah, exactly. So his mom gets this horrified look on her face, and turns to Liam and says, ‘she will not be working once you’re engaged, correct?’ I tried to respectfully state that I love my job, and I planned on working for the foreseeable future, but she wouldn’t take that for an answer. She kept insisting that I couldn’t work if we were going to be together, and Liam wouldn’t back me up. At one point he turned to me and said, ‘you know, I make more in a day than you do in an entire month. I can take care of you.’”

Tyler’s face looked disgusted for her, and Melissa felt a twinge of satisfaction that at least he was on her side. “I lost my damn mind. I stood up from the table and said that if the expectation was that I would be a brainless trophy wife with no ambition or intelligence then I was uninterested in continuing our relationship, and I stormed out. I’ve been trying to get Liam to realize that no means no ever since.” Melissa downed the rest of her coffee, suddenly in need of at least three more cups. 

She was halfway through making a second cup when Tyler responded again. “Isn’t one of your areas of expertise gender and stuff?” Melissa whipped around, surprised he had remembered. She nodded, and Tyler let out a scoff. “So they were pushing some idea from the 50s on you when your area of study is literally everything against that?” Melissa laughed. At least someone else understood the irony there. 

A knock sounded on the door to the suite before Melissa could respond. Tyler jumped off the counter before she could move to the door, and she admired the view from behind as he walked away from her. “Morning, cousin!” Kirsten flew through the door, sliding across the room and into Melissa’s arms with a laugh. “I’m getting married today!” The pair laughed, and Melissa hugged her friend close as she felt some tears prick her eyes. They’d been through a lot together since their days as college roommates, and today felt almost surreal. 

Kirsten pulled back with a slight frown. “Why do you look like you want to punch something?” Melissa tried to school her face into one of confusion, but her friend knew her too well for that. “Don’t bullshit me. Why the hell do you look so pissed?” 

She didn’t get a chance to make something up. “Liam called her.” Melissa turned to glare at Tyler from where he was sitting on the counter again. “He was an ass, but she handled him really well. It was kinda hot actually.” He winked at Melissa, and she flushed bright red. He had that effect on her, and it was kind of aggravating. 

“He still seems to think we’re still dating. I told him a restraining order was in the cards if he didn’t kindly fuck off.” Kirsten held up a hand for a high five, and Melissa slapped it gratefully. She had stayed in Kirsten’s guest bedroom for almost a month after that breakup because Liam kept showing up at her apartment. He stayed away from the house because John was a hell of a lot bigger than him, and John and Kirsten had been lifesavers as she tried to get over their relationship ending. 

Kirsten looped an arm through Melissa’s and began pulling her out the door, despite the fact that the latter girl was barefoot. Melissa managed to snag a pair of flip flops on their way out, though she couldn’t get them on her feet. “Ty I’m stealing your girl for a bestie breakfast, try not to miss her too much!” Melissa stiffened at her words. Maybe they’d been acting too well. She looked over her shoulder to mouth an apology at Tyler, her face bright red, only to find him smirking in her direction already. They were still staring each other down when the door slammed shut behind her. “You have a lot of explaining to do, Lissy.” 

She couldn’t keep pretending like this. “Kirs, it’s not like that.” If she wasn’t careful, Kirsten would be planning her and Tyler’s wedding by the time the night was over. Kirsten meant well, she really did, but sometimes she really just needed to chill out. “We get along really well. We’ve had a lot of time to talk, and it’s been fun. That’s all.” It was obvious that Kirsten disagreed, but she relented as they reached the patio where the brunch had been held the day prior. 

The tables were no longer set up to make one giant table, like they had been the night before. Instead it was an open area where several groups were eating, none part of the wedding party. Kirsten pulled Melissa over to a table set up for two in one corner of the patio. It was next to the vine and flower-covered wall she’d noticed the day before, and she leaned in slightly to sniff at the flowers brightening the space. 

“So,” Kirsten said with an air of mischief, “you and my cousin.” Melissa opened her mouth to protest again, but her friend cut her off. “Uh-uh. Nope. I saw the looks he was giving you, and you turned bright red every time you two made eye contact.” She was right, and they both knew it. Kirsten looked smug when Melissa didn’t try to disagree. “Listen. You’re moving to Dallas in a month. Why not hook up with him? See if he’s worth keeping around, and then have some fun. You don’t have to do the whole relationship thing babe, and you deserve to have someone appreciate your body.” 

A server came to take their order, and Melissa gratefully ordered another cup of coffee and some pancakes. “I think you’re reading it all wrong, Kirs. He’s just being nice.” The looks that he kept giving her, full of heat and interest, said otherwise, but there was no way he was really interested in her outside of a hookup. Although, would that really be so bad? Kirsten scoffed at her statement, and Melissa jumped in before she could say anything. “I don’t know if I really want to hook up with anyone this weekend, Kirs. If it happens it happens, but I’m not going to push it.” 

Her friend shrugged, though her face said she completely disagreed. “Well if you aren’t going to let me find someone to match you with, at least tell me you found a place in Dallas.” Their food arrived, and Melissa took a happy bite of her pancakes. They smelled heavenly, and tasted even better. “You were going to buy a house, right?”

Melissa nodded. “Originally I had planned on a house, maybe just outside the city, but I fell in love with this townhouse right off of Main Street. It has three bedrooms, so right around the size I wanted, and there’s so much natural light. Plus, there’s a rooftop deck with a beautiful view of the city.” This place was going to be her new investment. She was fortunate enough to have gotten a lot of scholarships and grants to do her schooling with, and professorial pay allowed her to pay off those loans rather quickly. That meant that she could start saving for a down payment on her own place and a new start in Dallas. 

She took another bite of her pancakes while Kirsten contemplated what she was saying. “I’m really happy for you, Lissy. You deserve this.” They grinned at each other, and then Kristen broke down into giggles. “Look at us! You’re a badass in your field that got job offers from like half the universities in the country, and I’m marrying my soulmate. We’re killing this whole life thing.” Melissa chuckled as she nodded at her friend’s words. 

“It wasn’t half of the universities in the country, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Kirsten waved a hand in a ‘whatever’ kind of way, and conversation moved to people-watching and bets over who would leave with whom tonight or how long it would take for John to tear up.

[clairvoyantsam]

#JUSTINDESERVEDBETTER talk & 13 Reasons Why S4E10 thoughts

So ... I’ve already watched the series finale, did it right after episode 9 but it was hard for me to watch and write my thoughts simultaneously because I was ugly crying the whole freakin time. Thus, I’m posting this now. Haven’t cried this much in a LONG while. My heart is fucking broken. I’m gonna start by talking about my favorite character whom the show did SO. FUCKING. DIRTY. JUSTIN FOLEY DESERVED BETTER. (obviously, OBVIOUSLY, it was gonna be MY favorite character who gets screwed over and dies a horrible death, just my luck, why did I expect a happy ending, I don’t even know).

Justin was the most tragic figure of the show. Raised by a junkie mother who never gave a damn about him, sexually molested as a little kid by one of her many drug addict & violent boyfriends, he often went to school dirty and hungry because of the neglect. He never had a positive influence in his life. He only managed to do better with Bryce’s help (Bryce was a bastard but he did care about Justin in his own way, that’s for sure). 

After the events of S1 with Hannah’s suicide and the tapes and everything that happened with Jessica and Bryce, he left his abusive home and lived in the streets where he barely ever found food and what money he got from charity or the men who paid (and hurt him) to use his body, he gave to drugs. 

In S2, Clay and Toni, found him and saved his life, helped him get back on his feet and he tried his best to set things straight with everyone. He even saved Clay’s life who came so close to killing Bryce and even worse himself. He didn’t hesistate to face the legal consequences if it meant helping the girl he loved. And Clay eventually became his brother as his parents decided to adopt him. 

In S3, he started going to school and doing well, got a job, tried to start his life over, this time in a safe environment with a real family and friends who supported him. He was doing exceptionally well, he looked much happier, he finally felt what it’s like to be loved by a mother and father and a brother and he got some sense of normalcy in his life. He was there for Clay when things got bad, believed in him and he had his back ALWAYS. (still emo about their scenes together where they told each other “I love you” & “I’d do ANYTHING for you”), Plus, he was one of Tyler’s biggest supporters stating Tyler deserved a second chance to be better.

Come S4 ... he’s fresh out of rehab, looking better than ever. His friends welcome him when he gets back but everything is different. EVERYTHING. And everyone has changed. THE ENTIRE SEASON, NOBODY, NOT A SINGLE PERSON gave a fuck about him except for the coach and to a point his adoptive parents. He had done so much progress, he wanted to make his new family proud so bad, he was clean, he was doing great at school, he even got accepted into college!!! And what did he get in return???? NOT ONE OF HIS FRIENDS HUNG OUT WITH HIM ONCE, NOT EVEN ONCE. Every time he tried to approach someone or help THEM deal with their problems, he was turned away and even insulted. They would tell him he shouldn’t be giving advice and that he would never change who he used to be. He confessed to the coach that he felt like nobody believed in him and frankly?? NOBODY SHOWED THEY DID!!!!!!!! Jessica brushed him off all the time because she was MAD he broke up with her so he could FOCUS ON HIS HEALTH!!!!!!!!!! WHAT??????!!!!!!!!! She kept parading everywhere with Diego when she knew this was hurting him deeply. Clay was so fucking MEAN to him and I didn’t understand WHY after their great bonding their previous two seasons. Sure, he had his own problems, but there was NO reason for this, absolutely none. He was jealous of the moments Justin shared with his parents and how he was doing well at school and sports and got accepted in college. He even told in his FACE that Matt and Lainie are his parents ALONE, not Justin’s when he knew Justin’s biggest need was to feel the love and warmth of a family. Justin wanted to go to a free college so that Clay could have the money go to the BEST one and so the Jensens didn’t have to spend any on him. And I’m 100% sure he never told them how sick he was until it was too late because he didn’t want to be a burden so he decided to die quietly and slowly without upsetting them. Clay had the NERVE to pin the positive drug test on Justin when Justin was fucking CLEAN and then went on to smoke POT at that party. It broke my heart in 1000000 pieces when Justin asked him why he hated him so much. Zack wasn’t better either, basically telling Justin that he’d be a junkie his entire life and he could never change. The others mostly didn’t give a flying fuck, focused on nobody else but themselves and stayed far away from him the entire season. His mom died of OD and he didn’t tell anyone but the Jensens and Jess and he had to deal with everything all on his own again. He only had the coach to listen and there was a limit to what help he could give. So, he finally broke. He stopped caring since nobody was giving him a chance, he started using again, he lost his job, he didn’t care about anything. Jess and Clay knew he was using again and did NOTHING to help except tell him “Hey, I thought you quit! I thought you were getting better!”. Wow, BIG HELP, ASSHOLES. They all left him alone on prom night, and Clay SAW how sick he looked but he preferred to go to prom rather than stay with his brother who needed him.

Justin, with what little strength he had left, got dressed and went to the prom towards its end, he looked so beautiful in his suit, like Prince Charming. He lived one last carefree moment with the girl he loved and then he collapsed. And THAT’S when everyone said “OH, NO! Let’s go see our sick friend!”. Well done, now he IS DYING, YOU IGNORANT IDIOTS. Now that he’s at death’s door, you want to be there for him but WHERE WERE YOU WHEN HE WAS SO DESPERATELY TRYING TO LIVE?????????? Yes, it was proven that he had HIV, probably from the time he lived on the streets and without the proper care it went on to become fully AIDS and he had numerous other issues with his health as a result of that and the drugs to the point that he could no longer breathe on his own. BUT. Had he shared his problems and told the Jensens how sick he was feeling for so long, his death could have been prevented. I know someone in real life who got HIV in his 30s and he’s now in his 60s and his life is perfectly fine. He has friends, he has family (didn’t get married), he travels, he does what he wants. Justin could have been saved if someone had NOTICED. Like HANNAH could have been saved if someone, ANYONE was paying attention. Needless to say, I fucking died during his scenes in the hospital, it was so hard to watch him waste away in that hospital bed. When they took the tube out so he could say his goodbyes to Clay, Jess and his adoptive parents ... I LEGIT haven’t cried so hard in SO long ... I still have a headache from all the crying. My poor CHILD, he was scared but he told them all how much he loved them and eventually died in his sleep, holding his brother’s, Clay’s hand. The episode was meaningless after that for me. I only watched to see how everyone’s stories would end, even though I didn’t care and knew that they’d get their happy (mostly) endings. The one character who TRULY deserved the best and happiest ending, got royally fucked and buried six feet under while everyone went about their lives like nothing had happened.

I really don’t have much to comment on the rest of the story. Clay did one final extreme act by walking in the police department, saying he had a gun. Not convinved he didn’t really want to die too after Justin but perhaps his psychologist was right and he was just trying to make people notice he was hurting. I’m happy for Toni for doing what’s best for him and deciding to accept the scholarship and go to college, same goes for Tyler, he deserved to be happy and I’m glad he ended up with Estella. Relieved that Jess and Diego tested negative for HIV but disappointed they were ready to get back together so soon after Justin. Winston decided to not use what he found out about Bryce’s death against Alex and the others and that made me respect him a little bit. (Winston and Ryan btw? hehe, I kinda saw it coming ever since I saw Ryan and Courtney at the graduation-did anyone also notice Bryce and Monty in the crowd too??lol). Liked the graduation and Hannah’s little cameo (although it was archived footage) but it left me with a sour taste because Justin wasn’t there among the rest, only as a ghost in Clay’s mind. Also that Heidi girl talking to Clay, uh, SO cheesy and unnecessary. Clay reading Justin’s college essay with Justin’s ghost in their bedroom and seeing how it was all about him and Justin calling him his brother ... IT DESTROYED ME. UTTERLY AND COMLETELY. WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO ME. WHY WOULD YOU KILL THE MOST BEAUTIFUL CHARACTER OF THE SHOW. THE MOST COMPLEX AND DAMAGED ONE. WHY COULDN’T HE HAVE A HAPPY ENDING LIKE THE REST OF THEM. IT’S FUCKING UNFAIR.

I’m glad the final scene was just Clay and Toni driving away, always enjoyed their friendship. Having no word exchange between them was pretty powerful because you only needed to read their expessions to feel the emotions.

All in all, a powerful season who dealt with so many important issues, well directed and full of action but disappointing for me where it mattered the most ... Right now, I don’t want to even touch another show for a long time, I need a break to recover from this, it was too much. I wish I didn’t get so attached to certain characters, but I do and it hurts me deeply when shit like that happens to them. Anyway ... Goodbye, show ... it was (mostly) good while this journey lasted ... I sure hope I see all these HUGELY talented actors and actresses in other projects in the future, especially Brandon Flynn (Justin), Dylan Minnette (Clay), Katherine Langford (Hannah) & Justin Prentice (Bryce). I also hope Brandon & Dylan get ALL the awards for their performances in S4. THEY DESERVE EVERYTHING. I’d love to hear other people’s thoughts on all this, it was such an intense experience.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Waterlily Zine! I wanted to do a Pirates of the Caribbean inspired fic for these two.

Summary: It’d be easier to get angry at the hardass, stubborn pirate who saved her if she also weren’t so goddamn attractive.

…

…

…

…

“You okay?”

 “…you just slap…”

 “That’s not how you…”

 Perfuma swam in and out of consciousness, picking up words here and there as two people talked next to her. Her maids, most likely, though she couldn’t remember hiring a maid with such a gruff voice. Maybe her mother did, in an attempt to get her out of bed on time for once. “’m up,” she mumbled, her tongue dry like the sandy beaches of her summer home.

 “Oh! You’re alive!” The gruff voice got closer and before Perfuma could open her eyes, two strong arms wrapped around her. “That’s great!”

 “You idiot.” The second person clicked her tongue, her voice as sharp as coral. “We already knew that much.”

 Cracking her eyes open, Perfuma was greeted by a hairy chest. A very hairy chest. She snapped her eyes shut. It’s okay, this was just a dream. Or her imagination. Or her father. A very hairy version of her father. Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes again. The hairy chest was inches from her nose and even cross-eyed, this wasn’t her father.

“AHHHHH!” Perfuma screamed, pushing the stranger away and tumbling out of his arms onto the hard, wooden ground. Quickly, she scrambled to her feet. “Who—where—”

 “Woah!” Still sitting on his butt, the strange man held his hands in front of him in a calm down motion. Now that she could see him properly, he looked older than she was, with a thick moustache on his lips. Or as her mother could call it, a caterpillar. He wore a palette of browns and whites, loose-fitting clothes that did little to hide his torso. “It’s okay, little lady.”

 “Is it?” Beside him was young woman similarly dressed, though her clothes were all blue instead. She crossed her copper-brown arms and raised a brow. “This is a complete waste of time.”

 They were complete strangers. And this was definitely not her bedroom. The ground below her rocked gently and Perfuma turned her head with wide eyes. All around them was a dark blue sea and she was on a boat. A boat. Spinning back to her captors, she noticed they had swords on their hips. She took a step back.  “Did you kidnap me?”

 “Kidnap?” The man stood up quickly, shaking his head. “No, no, you got us all wrong. We saved you.” When Perfuma stared blankly, he scratched his chin. “From the water? You were drowning? Does that not ring a bell?”

 “Well…” Trailing off, Perfuma scrunched her face as she tried to remember. Her mother had arranged for a cruise, she remembered vaguely. It was to be a nice break from the heat of summer, with only Perfuma and her maids and a skeleton crew commanding a pleasure craft. Second day in, there’d been a storm. “I think—”

 “Does she look like she has any bells to ring? With that getup?” the woman scoffed, examining her nails. “And I think I chipped a nail. Should have just let her drown.”

 “What?” Perfuma glanced at her clothing, which, now that she was paying attention to it, was kinda wet and clingy. Her bright green dress, the latest fashion in her kingdom, was completely ruined. She could barely make out the embroidered flowers. “What’s wrong with this outfit?”

 Before the woman could say anything, the man stepped forward. “Now, now, this isn’t the time to fight. I am the dashing Sea Hawk, handsome gentleman pirate extraordinaire. And this is my lovely captain, Mermista.”

 Mermista turned to him, disgusted. “Do you have to introduce yourself like that? Every time? No wonder we’re never taken seriously.”

 “Huh?” Sea Hawk stumbled back, shock on his face. He slowly turned to Perfuma. “Did you like my intro?”

 “I…” He was looking at her with puppy eyes and Perfuma had never been good with pleading. Rubbing her wrist, she smiled awkwardly. “It’s…interesting.”

 “The words you use when you have nothing nice to say,” Mermista drawled. Hand on her hip, she gave him a pointed look. “I don’t know why I keep you.”

 “Love,” Sea Hawk declared dramatically, his curled hand raised in front of him.

 “Yeah, no.” With a strangled cry, Sea Hawk crumpled to his knees. Ignoring the mess, Mermista rolled her eyes and turned to Perfuma. “We should toss her overboard.”

 “What?” Perfuma gaped. There was no way anyone could be that heartless, to save someone and then leave them to die. “You can’t do that!”

 Raising a brow, Mermista cocked her head. “I can—”

 “We cannot leave a young lady in distress!” Furiously shaking his head, Sea Hawk rose once more, forgetting his previous defeat. He wrapped an arm around Mermista’s shoulders and smiled winningly. “We shall save her.”

 “What?” Mermista recoiled, but try as she might, she couldn’t pry his hands off her shoulder. Finally giving up, she sighed. “Fine.” She glared at Perfuma, poison in her voice. “But you’re working. We’re not a charity.”

 “That’s—work?” Perfuma blinked, her smile strained. “I haven’t really—my maids usually…”

 “Maids?” Mermista snorted derisively. “Well, Princess, I guess you’ll learn it now.”

 -x-

 “Urp.” Perfuma covered her mouth as she ran to the side of the boat. She had already vomited three times this morning, what was there even left to hurl? Maybe her body was just going to toss out her stomach for good measure.

 “Again?” Behind her, she could hear a solid thud as something hit the ground, followed by the sound of footsteps. Soon after, Sea Hawk was by her side, a heavy hand was on her back, gently rubbing. “Do you even have any food in there?”

 “My thoughts exactly.” Perfuma bit out, clenching her teeth as she tried to fight down the nausea. It was completely unfair how unfazed Hawkeye looked. “How long does it take to get used to this?”

 “Well, uh…” Sea Hawk rubbed his neck awkwardly. “I’ve never been seasick. Neither has Mermista. Um. Hmm. Maybe a few days?”

 “A few days?” It was a mistake to yell, she could feel it rushing up her throat. Quickly, she leaned over the rails.

 “Woah.” Reacting just as fast, he pulled back her hair. “The sea is a tough mistress, and you...urp.” Sea Hawk covered his mouth, turning away. “You just…” He swallowed hard and scrambled away from the rails. “I’ll wait till your done. Second-hand vomit. Oh god.”

 “Weakling.” Perfuma didn’t have to look to know Mermista was rolling her eyes again. It was all the woman ever did—how those eyes hadn’t rolled right out of her skull, she wasn’t sure. “And you, you’re supposed to be cleaning, not making a mess.”

 “Sorry.” Finally done, Perfuma slumped down against the rails. Suddenly she understood why people kissed the ground after getting off a ship. She’d never go on a boat again. Ever.

 “Whatever.” Mermista picked up the abandoned mop and held it out to Sea Hawk. “Take over. I need this deck swabbed yesterday.”

 “Of course!” Sea Hawk patted Perfuma one last time on the back before grabbing the mop. “You’ll see your reflection when I’m done!”

 “It’s wood,” Mermista muttered, but Sea Hawk was already charging down the deck, humming brightly. Turning back to Perfuma, she dangled a small, glass bottle. “Here.”

 “What?” Blinking in confusion, Perfuma stared at the brown bottle. Inside, she could make out the vague shapes of pills. “These are?”

 “It’ll settle your stomach.” Impatiently, she grabbed Perfuma’s hand and curled her fingers around the bottle. “Take one and get some rest.”

 Perfuma’s eyes widened and she turned to Mermista in surprise. “For me?”

 Mermista curled a tendril of her hair around her finger. “Yeah, can’t have you—”

 “Thanks!” Overcome, Perfuma engulfed her in her arms, hugging her tightly. For a moment, she forgot all about her upset stomach. “This is…thank you so much!”

 “Huh?” Mermista stiffened, but she didn’t pull away. “Uh…yeah. No problem.”

 -x-

 “Like this?” Perfuma asked hesitantly, pushing the mop across the deck, from the aft to the port. Or was it port to aft? Despite the list of terms Sea Hawk and Mermista barraged her with, she hadn’t fully memorized them.

 “Kinda.” Sea Hawk gave a troubled smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “You really are a rich girl, huh?”

 “Yes.” With a sigh, she leaned against the mop. Honestly, it had all seemed so simple. Push a mop across a deck. She’d seen her maids do it a thousand times. “What did I forget now?”

 “Put a little more pressure on it.” Gently taking the mop out of her hands, he demonstrated. “Like so. And then put the mop back in, rinse and squeeze.”

 “Right.” Perfuma watched him with wide, unblinking eyes, trying to commit it all to memory. Between dishwashing and cleaning and cooking (at least, until Mermista determined it was a waste of ingredients), she wished she had a notebook or something to write this all down.

 “Then you—”

 Mermista appeared at his side, grabbing the mop from his hands. “Would you stop doing her work for her? I’m not paying you to clean.” She shot him a withering glare. “Get back to the bridge before we lose yet another ship.”

 “Yet another?” Perfuma repeated, bemused. That didn’t sound good. And she was relying on them to get her home too. “How many ships have you lost?”

 “The Dragon’s Daughter 1 to 5,” Sea Hawk began, his voice grave. A hand clawed at his chest. “Their tales are a tragic one.”

 “Which we will not repeat because I’m also not paying you for that.” Mermista pushed the mop handle into Perfuma’s hand. “Now get to work. I’m tired of redoing it.”

 “I’ve been getting better!” Perfuma grumbled, half a mind to toss the mop back at Mermista. Instead, she aggressively pushed it. “I don’t break any dishes anymore and—wait, what do you mean redoing it?” Perfuma paused, realizing the implication behind those words.

 So when her half-clean dishes came out gleaming and her sopping deck dried quickly, it hadn’t been a coincidence. “I thought Seahawk…”

 Mermista coloured slightly. “Yeah, well, I’m the captain. I have to make sure the job’s done.”

 Well, Perfuma kind of expected that response—despite how she acted, Mermista was pretty responsible.

 She just didn’t think Mermista wouldn’t insult her or complain to her about it.

 -x-

 The cool night air hit Perfuma as she headed topside, leaving the berths behind. Topside, berth, words she never even knew existed before now. Yet after several weeks at sea, she now could identify each part of the ship with its correct nautical name. Even the gentle rocking of the boat, the waves lapping at the side of the ship, no longer fazed her and perhaps she had finally gained her sea legs after all.

 “Why’re you awake?”

 Perfuma tried not to frown as she heard a familiar, caustic voice above her. Of course, Mermista was on duty. Looking up, she squinted in the darkness, barely able to see the faint shape of Mermista as she sat on the crow’s nest. On a moonless night, she couldn’t make her out from the stars. “Just needed some fresh air.”

 For once, there were no sharp jabs, no insulting one-liners. Just silence. Perfuma stared up curiously, not expecting this at all. The wooden boards creaked and groaned as she shuffled backwards, trying to get a better look at her captain.

 “Feeling seasick?” Mermista finally asked, and though Perfuma couldn’t point her finger at it, there was something softer about her tone.

 “No.” She rubbed her arms, warding off the chill.

 “That’s good.”

 Perfuma squinted, wishing there was a lamp up there or the sun would just rise or anything, really, so she could see Mermista’s expression right then. “Can I come up?”

 She covered her mouth immediately, but it was too late, the question was out there. It lingered in the air for a long beat before Mermista quietly answered, “Sure.”

 Before either of them could change their mind, Perfuma hoisted herself up the rigging. Her hands were tougher than they used to be, stronger, and where before this would have been an impossible feat, Perfuma found she could easily scale the ropes and beams that led to the crow’s nest. That led to Mermista, who had shuffled to the side, leaving an empty spot next to her for Perfuma to sit. “Not afraid of heights?”

 “Not anymore.” Gingerly, Perfuma sat down, keeping a small distance between them. Suddenly, she felt shy, their proximity too close. She rested her hand beside her, curling it into the wooden planks. “I can’t really see the ground anyways, in the dark.”

 Mermista chuckled roughly. “True. Maybe I should force you up here in the morning.”

 “Do it,” Perfuma dared, feeling a little braver now. “I’ll climb.”

 “I bet you would, Princess.”

 It was strange. She used to bristle at that old insult. Used to clench her teeth and swear under her breath a thousand revenges. But that was Mermista’s game, her barbs and thorns half there for show, and now Perfuma could make out the smile in her voice, the blunted edge of her words. Just as she’d gotten used to the sea salt air that permeated in everything, the constant sway of the ship at even the calmest waters.

 In the darkness, if she reached out, if she grabbed Mermista’s hands, she wondered what she’d say.

 -x-

 “Huh.” Mermista stared down at the deck, cocking her head. After a few seconds, she scanned the entire deck, still looking surprised.

 Holding the mop tight in her hands, Perfuma swallowed. The wood gleamed in the sun, still slightly slick from the mopping Perfuma done. Even the stray ropes were all neatly coiled. Nothing was left for chance and for once, Perfuma was certain she’d done it all properly. Probably. Hopefully. “Is that a good ‘huh’ or a bad one?”

 “Well, you did your job, so good.” Mermista looked down again, tapping her foot against the floor. It was hard to see her expression as her hair curled around her face. “I mean, you should have done this from the start, but whatever.”

 “Can’t you just compliment someone directly?” Perfuma rolled her eyes. She couldn’t resist smiling though—it had taken weeks, but she’d finally gotten Mermista’s approval.

 Mermista crossed her arms, raising a brow. Incredulous, she asked, “Are you talking back to me?”

 “Maybe.” Perfuma grinned brightly, leaning against the mop. She sent a challenging look back. “Is that a problem?”

 Mermista fell silent, just staring at her. For a long moment, Perfuma feared she had said the wrong thing, had crossed a line too far. Maybe she’d misread the mood last night or even the one right now. Her mind ran in circles, replaying each word exchanged, and oh god, she must have said something wrong. Something—

 “Not really.” Mermista turned around, heading toward the steering wheel. She glanced over her shoulder, her lips curled into smirk. “I like problems.”

 Perfuma could feel her jaw drop as Mermista continued without another word. Her cheeks burned a dark red and oh dear.

 Oh dear.

 She might be falling for a pirate.

 Her mother was going to kill her.

[redrobinfection]

(8) Haunted Woods

SociallyAwkwardFox’s Spooktober - Day 8 “Haunted Woods”

 Steph & Tim | Discussion of StephCass and JayTim | Gen | Silly | Phone Conversation | New for 2019! | Want to write with me? Find the prompt list here!

AN: No capes, Tim and Steph are about 14 here, Jason is 16, and Dick is 18 (he's a senior). Damian is 11. Tim’s parents are still alive and he’s often been invited to hang with the kids at Wayne Manor throughout his childhood. This is generally set in the late 90s-early 00s, because the 90s era of Robin, Spoiler, YJ, and solo Nightwing were the bessssssssst :)

~*~

Tim picked up his cordless phone, dialed a number, then threw himself across his bed and listened as the phone on the other end rings, feet swinging restlessly off the side. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling fan turning slowly above him.

"'Yellow?"

"Hey, Steph, it's me."

"Oh, hey, Tim," she replied, voice slightly garbled like she might have food in her mouth. "How'd that haunted house charity thing go?"

"It wasn't really like a house, it was more like a haunted trail-walk thing in the woods between my house and the Waynes', but, yeah, it, um, went okay, I guess."

"That's good. Raised lots of money for the shelter?"

"Yeah, I think it did. More people turned out than we expected."

"Nice! So did you get to spend time with those two Wayne guys you're crushing on? Penis-name guy and, uh, what's his name? Jay, right? That stand for Jacob?"

"Jeez, Steph, the older one is Dick, not 'the penis-name guy'--"

"I dunno, that's close enough."

"--and his brother is Jason."

"Ahh, okay, the ‘Jay’ is for Jason."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Ugh. So... No, I didn’t. Dick and Jay were working the event. They asked all their friends from school and the gymnastics club to come help them play the spooky characters on the trail."

"Oh, nice. What spooky thing were you?"

"I was too young to volunteer, so, instead, I, uh, actually ended up test-walking the trail with Damian."

"Ugh! The demon kid?!"

"He's not that bad."

"Did he try to stab you again?"

"….maybe. Not really. A mechanical pencil doesn't count."

Steph scoffed. "Like I said: spawn of the devil. I'm surprised they didn't want to use him as cast; he'd be a natural!"

"Steph, give him a break. He's only, like, ten and he had a messed up childhood, okay? He's getting better."

"Uh huh...but am I gonna find pencil lead lodged under your skin anywhere if I go looking?"

Tim grimaced and tried not to look at the dark smudge on his arm. "…He will get better. Just give him time."

"Okayyyyy, so moving on: how was it? Did you get scared? Pfft. I can't imagine the little demon baby did."

"No, Damian actually spooked a couple of times, though he tried to play it off as being 'horrified that the performances were so abysmal'; his words, not mine."

"Sounds about right. What about you, shy guy? You get spooked?"

"I mean, those woods are pretty eerie at night and it was definitely creepy having people jump out at us, but I wouldn't say any part of it scared me, per se."

"Mmmmm. So having your two major crushes jump out at you in sexy costumes didn't spook you even a little?"

Tim's face heated. "Well, uh, I mean… they weren't sexy costumes per se…"

"Okay, spill it, Timbo. What were they wearing? Did they try to scare you? What did you say to them?"

"Well, um, Dick was a werewolf and he, uh, I guess tried to jump scare us?"

"…"

Tim sighed and sat up on the bed. "He waited until we walked past, jumped out right behind us, and then growled in our faces when we turned around. He made Damian jump, at least. Except...then Damian jumped behind me and kind of pushed me into him, and Dick stepped on my foot then said, in the softest voice imaginable, 'oh, sorry', so, like...I wasn't really ‘scared’, I was just kind of, uhhh, flustered, I guess?"

Stephanie slapped what sounded like a table, or maybe her desk, with what had to have been her open palm. Repeatedly. "Ahahaha, oh my god, that is perfect!"

"Gee, thanks, Steph," he replied dryly.

"No, I mean, at least he talked to you right?"

"I mean if you can count getting stepped on and whispered at?"

"He got up close and personal with you!"

Tim sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, sure."

"Okay, okay, then what about Jason?" Steph asks excitedly. "What happened with him?"

If Tim's face had been hot before, now it was on fire. "Uhhh…"

"Oooooo, I sense a story here. Spill it!"

"Well, I mean, he wasn't really that scary. Damian just kind of just rolled his eyes at him and went on ahead, leaving me there."

Steph squealed. "Ooooo, so you got some alone time? So what was he? A ghost? A murderer in a hockey mask?"

"Um. Well. Jason was near the end of the trail, hanging around one of the creeping rose trellises in the Wayne gardens. They set up all these fake flickering candles and hung a ton of these big, long cobwebs from the trellis and then had Jason dress up as a Victorian zombie...or something? He didn't really try to jump out as us or anything. I think he was reading when we walked up? He seemed kinda bored, to be honest.

“And, uh, then my glasses kinda got caught in the cobwebs. Jason pretty much just stood there and watched me try to untangle, while they were still on my face, them for, like, thirty seconds, but it kept getting worse and worse until, finally, he walked up to me, very carefully removed my glasses, untangled them, handed them back and then I pretty much ran away in shame," he finishes lamely, squeezing his eyes closed at the memory.

"Whaaaaaaat?! Did you say anything? What did he say back?"

Tim squinted as he tried to remember something beyond the overwhelming embarrassment. "I think I thanked him, maybe? And then he grunted like a zombie and went back to reading. I felt like such a dork."

Steph laughed again. "Ahahahahahah,Tim, that is just too much. Honey, you felt like a dork because you are a dork. The most adorable dork that has ever lived to dork."

"Why did I call you again? I'm hanging up."

"Timmmmmy, nooooo. You're adorkable and that is what I love about you. If Dick and Jason have any sense, then they'll love it too. You just gotta put yourself out there and talk to them more often!"

"Whatever you say, ex-girlfriend."

Steph snapped her fingers, likely trying to point a finger at him through the phone. "Hey. I'm clearly the most qualified person to be saying this stuff; I know better than anyone how awesome you are."

Tim raised his eyebrows, unseen, but clearly heard in his tone as he replied, "And that’s why we broke up?"

Tim could hear Steph's responding eye roll in her voice. "We only broke up because it turned out I'm not bi like you. One of those 'It's not you, it's me' things, right?"

"Sure."

"Heeeey, don't get all down on yourself, okay? Here, this is what we'll do: Cass Wayne and I were planning to go see that new horror flick next Friday--"

"You hate horror movies. I hate horror movies. They freak us out. That was, like, the one thing we always agreed on."

"Shhhhh, all a part of the plan, Timothy," Steph soothed conspiratorily. "See, you'll ask Jason if he wants to come on a double date with us and Cass will totally push him into it, and then at the movie I'll pretend to be scared and grab onto Cass and you can pretend to be scared and grab Jason's hand!"

Tim barked a laugh. "Pretend? Try actual fear."

"Exactly! We'll actually be scared, so our acting will be totally believable!"

"Do you even hear yourself?"

"Come on, it'll be great. We're thinking we'll do an early show to beat the crowds and do a late dinner afterwards to shrug off the lingering creep factor. We were planning on going to that diner you like, the one with the double coffee milkshakes, remember? Whaddya say?"

Tim grimaced. "I dunno…"

"Just imagine: cuddling up to Jason Wayne in a dark theater, sharing a shake and fries afterwards. There are two straws, you accidentally mix them up…"

Tim made a sound of disgust at that horrible cliché of an image. "Okay, okay, stop, fine, I'll do it."

Steph cackled. "Yessssss, this is gonna be great." Abruptly her tone went deadly serious. "You should call Jason right now."

Tim froze. "Uhhhhh, right now?"

"Yes, before you chicken out. Actually, I'm gonna hang up and call Cass. We'll call you back in ten minutes and if you still haven't called Jason and asked by then--Cass will know--then I'm gonna make her make him call you."

"Steph, no…"

"Then call him!"

"Okay, okay, I'm hanging up."

"Yay! Okay, you've got five minutes and then I'm siccing Cass on you guys. Good luck!"

"Wait, you said ten! Steph? Steph?!"

A click and then the dial tone was all that could be heard. Tim flopped over onto his pillow and groaned.

"Well, great. Just… great."

[pilferingapples]

Brick Club, 1.1.2

In Which Myriel is both Wonderful  and Problems.

...Before I get into Rant Mode, let me say that this chapter has one of my favorite bits of Commentary in the book-- the idea that “there is always more misery in the lower classes than there is humanity in the higher” , so  charity , while good , is never enough. That simple concept-- that charity is good and even necessary but can never make up for an inherently unequal society-- is such a solid summation of the issues around charity, and, depressingly, more nuanced about the issue of the social safety net than any fifty random conversations I’m likely to encounter in a week. Sigh. 

Also, I appreciate the continued presence of sheer physical need as part of the world in this book. There is always someone sick, someone needing the hospital. Health and physical issues aren’t The Point of this story , but that makes me appreciate how intrinsically they’re woven into the world of it even more. 

Language Use note-- Mademoiselle Baptistine is said to “venerate” her brother. Given the inevitable societal power imbalance between them, that phrasing might make me feel kinda weird--except that it is of course used in several relationships between men who are definitely social peers throughout the book. 

...and I guess that brings me to Rant Time.  

It’s not that I have a problem with Myriel choosing relative poverty--I don’t think it’s necessarily a great moral choice for everyone, but given his chosen vocation and social role and position and all it makes sense, and doesn’t hurt him  too badly (and really could it even? he basically has tenure...).

What galls me, every time, is that he’s making all these decisions for the women who live with him, without consulting them, or even giving them a warning. Yet they’re the ones who manage the household, and know what the expenses are.   Worse, they’re the ones in charge of the household’s ability to care for other people - Myriel can decide to have an open-door policy and feed guests Whenever, and pretty well has to host other church officials at various points,  and that is going to take money sometimes , and he’s just...leaving it up to Magloire and Baptistine. 

...And he writes down the money they have to use to run a house for three people, plus guests who will definitely be there,  as “ Personal Expenses” . “depense personnel”. That’s Magloire’s salary, that’s food, clothing, medical, any funds for traveling  if they need to travel, all the costs of upkeep and cleaning and running the garden, all of which Baptistine and Magloire are tasked with running and managing. And he calls it his personal expenses.  

**brainrage implosion**

This is of course a very realistic sort of flaw for a man of his time and in his position!  It fits, like his anger towards the Conventionist, or his occasional sharp tongue. Myriel is always trying to be what he thinks a good man and a good spiritual leader should be, but that doesn’t and shouldn’t mean he always gets it right.  That one of the great moral guides of the novel gets things wrong sometimes,and on a deep fundamental level at that,would be totally fine! It fits thematically, and it’s a realistic fact about how people actually are-- no one totally knows what they’re doing, nobody is flawless. Trying Counts. 

...Except I don’t think Hugo actually sees any of this as  a flaw. Because this is how he expected the women who ran his  households to function-- to take whatever allowance he gave them, which was never actually enough, and run the household and handle his social commitments (and, in Hugo’s case, to keep themselves looking good and well-dressed, too, which Myriel at least isn’t expecting from his sister and housekeeper!).  Like his whole thing about “the heroism of passive obedience”  being a 100 percent Good Thing, this is just one of those points where I gotta take a Strong Disagree stand with Hugo and the narrative. Choosing to give to charity is good; choosing to severely limit your own comfort to help others is...a choice of variable use; but choosing to make others  sacrifice their security and basic comforts for your morals without even consulting them is not actually a great move. 

It’s frustrating because there’s really something to be said here about what acting in accordance with a demanding moral drive asks of others.   Martyrdom has a cost to more than the martyr.  Any life-shaping sacrifice rarely comes from just one person,in the end-- choosing to give away worldly goods or eat only what you grow or give up modern technology or join a convent or etc etc etc has a cost to the family of the martyr, as surely as choosing to die on a barricade does. Brushing that off as “oh this works cause They Got This”, if anything, makes Myriel’s budgetary cutbacks  less  impressive, and has the unfortunate effect of erasing some of the ways women are expected to carry the effort of men’s choices in the society of the novel (yeah and it’s not an entirely Past thing, but I’m talking about the society of the novel specifically on purpose). 

Phoo. Okay. Time to set that aside for now, but I feel like this concept may become relevant again later in the book...

[banditthewriter]

Whatever It Takes - 2 - Billy Russo

You guys seemed to enjoy part one. Hope that continues!

Tags are at the bottom. Let me know if you would like to be added to one of my tag lists!

Enjoy!

*****

For the week after the event, you focused on work and nothing else. Your boss was happy with the progress of the many projects you had undertaken. And you kept your eye out for messages from the charity.

You also got a few messages from Billy. It had been a surprise actually; you hadn't even been aware that he had your phone number.

He wanted to tell you how the meeting went and to thank you again. Seems he finally snagged his four star general.

You were happy for him. He got that and you hadn't heard a peep from Connor since the gala. It seems to have benefited you both.

With your focus on work, you almost forgot you were waiting for message from the charity you worked with. When it finally came in, you were excited to see what would come next.

Y/N,

We are happy to say the fundraising gala was a success. It was a beautiful event and we wanted to thank you for your attention to detail and tireless work to make the gala the astounding success that it turned out to be.

Personally I wanted to send you a message about another matter. It's been brought to our attention that you are in a relationship with Billy Russo from Anvil. If so, do you think you could talk to him about Anvil working security at some other events one of my other charities is throwing? And I hope he's available to be your plus one to the launch coming up.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Marcia Daly

You read the middle part three times before you let your screen go dark.

It had just been a little joke, something to help you both out that night. You hadn't expected it to travel.

And how had Marcia heard that? Was she friends with Bart’s wife?

It was awfully presumptive of her to ask you to ask your supposed-boyfriend to help out at future events. You'd only been on the charity board for a short time. Was that how long it took for favors to be asked?

You unlocked your phone and took a screenshot of the email. You circled the middle paragraph a few times before you attached it to a text to Billy.

After a brief hesitation, you added a caption of Look what I just got.

Once it was sent, you pulled up your Facebook and scrolled through there. You mindlessly liked a few pictures or posts before your phone vibrated.

It was from Billy. The text just said hm but there was also a photo attached.

It was also an email. The email address was marked out, but it was signed at the bottom by Bart Keller.

Part of it didn't make sense but you imagined it was the last paragraph you were supposed to focus on.

It was a pleasure to see you and your girl at the charity gala. She's an absolute gem and I hope you don't mind me saying that. You should bring her to the dinner. It would be nice to meet her without running her off with my cigarettes.

Huh. You bit your lip as you typed up a quick reply.

So both of our jobs not only think we are together but want us to show up to events together now. Didn't see that coming.

After only a few seconds, you got a reply.

Yeah me either

You wondered how to reply when a second text came through.

Do you have a moment to talk on the phone?

Quickly you moved over to shut your door, smiling at one of your coworkers who was walking through the area. Then you went back to your desk to tell him yes, you could take a call.

About a minute later your phone started to ring.

“Hey,” you greeted, breathy even though you weren't sure why. “How are you?”

You heard him huff out a laugh on the other line.

“I'm just going to cut to the chase. The people at the charity think we’re together and General Keller thinks we’re together. How would you feel about maybe capitalizing on that for a short time?”

That drew you up short for a moment.

“Capitalizing by… do you mean pretending to date? For longer?”

You sounded so shocked but it wasn't a completely unpleasant thought. In fact you had quite enjoyed that part of the evening.

“Listen, I know it sounds messed up but it'd just be long enough for us to get our feet in the door. Keller adored you and I feel like he'd probably be more willing to work with me if you're involved sometimes. And if the charity is asking for Anvil and for me to be a plus one, that's not exactly a sacrifice in order for both of us to get what we want.”

A business proposition. You swallowed thickly as you thought about his hand on your hip at the gala and how you had felt like you were going to melt when he complimented you.

Could you pretend to date him? Even just for a set amount of time?

“If it's too much, you can just forget it. I don't want to make you uncomf–”

“Let's do it,” you said as quickly as you could.

He was quiet for a second and then you could barely make out a sigh of relief.

“I guess we will need to get together to discuss a few things. How long we've been together and, you know, get to know each other.”

You felt that same little thrill from before.

“Yeah, I guess so. How about dinner at my place? I'll cook.”

“Sounds great. What time?”

After you made plans, and checked to make sure he didn't have any allergies, you ended the call. Your small office felt positively claustrophobic at that moment.

You were going to pretend to date Billy Russo. The guy you'd kinda sorta been crushing on for a few years.

It felt a little like making a deal with the devil but you didn't mind. Not when the devil looked that good.

------

Dinner was almost done when your doorbell rang. After checking to make sure your place wasn't too much of a mess, you went to the door to let him in.

“Hey, come on in. Dinner is almost ready.”

Billy had removed his suit jacket and probably his tie as well. He'd rolled up his sleeves and unbuttoned his shirt so that he was a bit more casual.

“Smells great,” he said as he handed over a six pack of beer.

Most of the silence as you served the plates and sat down to eat was full of conversation about both of your days. Billy had a new group of recruits coming in soon and he told you he was always busiest around that time. He also mentioned having something coming up that was big, but he couldn’t give more than that. You explained that you were put on a new project that involved the son of a congressman who acted like a toddler most of the time.

When your plates were mostly empty, you pushed yours away and gave Billy a look.

“I guess we need to get down to business.”

He shrugged his shoulder because yeah, that's why he was there.

“We don't have to lie about how we met at least. I say we stick mostly to reality. We met two years ago, became friends. It's only recently become more.”

That could work. Although you were surprised that he considered the two of you friends before this.

“How recently?”

“You said you and Braxton ended things three months ago? Let's say we've been together for about a month.” He gestured a bit with the hand that wasn't holding his beer as he explained, “That way we have a good reason why we don't know everything about each other. Also gives a good reason why we wouldn't be too comfortable with public displays of affection.”

That was something you hadn't even thought about yet.

Pretending to date meant casual touches and more consistently being around one another. It meant faking a familiarity that neither of you felt. Even that night he had almost pulled away from your kiss on his cheek.

And you'd almost jumped out of your skin when he touched you. Granted probably not for the same reason.

It struck you again what this would mean for you. Your little crush on Billy was easily handled when you only saw each other a few times a year. Would it become unavoidable if you saw each other more often?

Could you handle your feelings and keep them in check?

“That should work,” you finally said once you realized how long you'd been quiet.

Billy smiled and stood up, grabbing his plate and yours before he headed to the kitchen sink.

“It's gonna be fine. We know each other well enough that we can keep it from being awkward.”

Yeah. That was possible.

You spent the next hour just giving each other little glimpses into your life. Birthdays, favorite colors, allergies and more were given back and forth. You committed as much of it to memory as you could and hoped that anything you might forget would be inconsequential.

There was one thing that you had thought about but hadn't mentioned yet. As he made his way to the door to leave, you knew it was now or never.

“Are you sure you want to do this? Because you won't exactly be able to see other women unless you're really good at doing it on the down low.”

You didn't want to go through all of this just to get fake cheated on.

“Not an issue,” he explained as he turned to face you. “I've gone longer than however long this will be without dating. Don't worry, I'll be fully committed to our fake relationship.”

He held his hand out to you. With a roll of your eyes, you accepted his hand for a handshake to seal the deal. Then he tugged you towards him, slow enough to give you a chance to pull away if you wanted to.

He pressed his lips to your cheek, a touch that reminded you immediately of the kiss you had left on his cheek that night. Your heart was racing but hopefully he couldn't tell.

“Tell your charity board members that I'm at their disposal. And let me know when you need that plus one.”

You nodded and glanced down, surprised to see that he was still holding your hand.

“And let me know about that dinner Bart mentioned,” you replied as you pulled your hand back to your side.

Billy gave you a nod and a quick smile before he turned to open the door. You waited until he was down the steps to the street before you pulled the door shut once more.

You were officially fake dating Billy Russo. Emphasis on the fake, you tried to remind your racing heart.

It was just for a few weeks, maybe a month or two. Long enough for you both to reap the benefits of a relationship.

Well. Not all of the benefits.

X

Let me know if you want to be added to my Permanent Tag List @hermioneshandbag @onebatch--twobatch @smiley-celine @blackcoffeeandgreenteaforme @starless-skyox @youveseen--thebutcher @citation-is-here @mightymelly @realduckvader @1550kilogramsofsilver @hxbbit @rockintensse @missphanosaur18 @thepuffyeyedpuff @the-three-eyed-ravenclaw @yessy2012 @gingerstarlight @siriusement @marauderskeeper @xinyourdreamsx @wickidlady @sassygirl25 @maraudereestauderelb @rainyboul @cutie-bug @random-quartz @holamor @lea----b @heyitslexy @detectivebourbon @coffeenmoscato @presstocontinue @elisemockingbird @assbuttwithwings @geeksareunique @siriuslovesmarlene @witch-of-letters @delicatelilyflower @l-l-c-m-w-b @whovianayesha @hiddenprincess @yannii04 @jeanettexkillian @brighteststarinthesky @kilyra @gallxntdean @sweetvengeancee @lady1505 @thedarklightwithinus @ateliefloresdaprimavera @siriuslyimmoony @elodieyung @fudgeflyss @madamrogers @thatwrestlingfan91 @teranya @sophiabulbu69 @delusionsofnostalgia @effielumiere @mamaraptor @hot-and-spiceyyy @i-padfootblack-things @aya-fay @fcavalerro @sithskywalkers @raquelbc2003 @iwishyoucouldbekissed @lostinthoughts23 @tamanamohain @newtstarmander @suchatinyinfinity @blushingskywalker @queencocoakimmie @funerals-with-cake @love-dria @arrowswithwifi @swiftyhowlz @cheyfleur @dark-night-sky-99 @margot-black @celestegolden @king4thesirens @beautifuldesastre @ashkuuuu @luminex3 @nerdypinupcrystal @iblogabout-stuff  @curlyhairedblueeyedangel @myplaceofheavenorhell @cafeconsoya @nea90sweetie @traeumerinwitzhelden @kryyta @russosprettydiamondnow @dorkybryan @mahalobro @yesixoxo

Let me know if you want to be added to my Billy Russo Tag List @something-tofightfor @piink-magnolias @hoodedhavok @aylinnmaslow @musingsofbanana @bluebird214 @rileyblues @nerrdstark @that-bwitch @ethereal-heavcns @queenisabella789 @colddecember-night @j-finco @arthoeaesthetixbs​ @tomhiddlestonsbeard @mischiefs-never-managed @romanceyour-ego @evyiione @drinix @sweetheart-im-the-boss @thebabblingbook @katieswinforddiaries @benbarnesfanforever @releasethekracko @itsjustmylifeconfessions @nostalgic-uncertainty @aveatquevale- @clarasworldofwonders @ladyblablabla​ @thehanneloner @hellostarposts @girlwhoisfearless @maria-beretta @friendlyneighbourhoodweirdo @marcelskittel @fictionwillneverdie @avipshamitra @hysteriadarling @living-on-rice @hello-la-v-en-rose @tiredofthisgeneration @marveliskindacool @giggleberts @stateofloveandvedder @encounterthepast @ironstank @spettrocoli @xserenax-13 @sleepwalkingelite @dreamingofonceuponatime @supernaturalcat7 @rosebunnie @damagelove @petersunderoos96 @dylanobrusso @littlemermaidprobz @agent-scully-182 @editboutique @audreychaz @songforhema @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes​ @ania2603 @screwmesiriusblack @figlia--della--luna @balladblood @cloudywithachanceofcupcakes-blog @jessicahh @flightoftheflightrisk @slamharder @roschele | @rhabakoli @lexxierave @shadowhunterscloset @stories-you-wont-hear @benbarnesfrustration

[justkending]

Used to be Overlooked.  Chapter 15.

Summary: Steve Rogers was walking down the streets of Brooklyn after finishing a mission. The goal was just to take some time to clear his mind along the city streets, but when he runs into a gorgeous young lady that looks extremely familiar… How can he go about moving on? Who is she? What does he know her from? Was that memory even from this decade?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Rosalyn Ember/ Y/N ?)

Word Count: 3300+

Warning: SLOW BURN. Soooo slow, but sooooo worth it...

Series Masterlist

Chapter 15:

“So we were right!” Bucky said shouting more than asking a question.

“Well, we were right in the sense that we needed to dig deeper, yes. I’m not sure we knew what we were looking for, but now…” Steve let out a breath after he unloaded everything to Bucky. “Now we know.”

“Now we know…” Bucky repeated taking it in, and crossing his arms while one came up to scratch his beard. “I think this is good news.”

“Good news?” Tony asked.

“Yeah! I mean, now we know her background. We can see she isn’t a evil doer, considering everything she has done all this time, and the fact she wants to reverse it. Then, you have Steve who really likes her and-” Bucky started.

“Whoa, whoa. I never said anything about-” he stopped getting a resting bitch face from all the other men in the room. They weren’t buying his bullshit. “Ok, fine! I like her, but that doesn’t mean that you should have gone and asked her to be my date for that gala Tony! I could have done it myself,” he huffed.

“Sure you could. I could tell you were going to do it right as soon as she was in her car and five miles out,” he rolled his eyes.

“Wait a second. Stevie got a date?” Bucky said raising an eyebrow and a teasing grin toward his friend.

“I wouldn’t say date-” Steve started blushing.

“It’s a date. She even said it herself,” Bruce finally chimed in.

“She did?” Steve asked shocked toward Bruce.

“You must have blacked out. You looked like you just found out you had been frozen in ice for 70 years or something,” Tony smirked.

Steve sent him a glare. “Real original,” he mumbled.

“What can I say? I’m an original guy,” Tony said lifting his hands impressed with himself.

“So, this Gala?” Bucky said, reeling the conversation back in. “Our Miss. Y/N Erskine will be joining us?”

“Yes,” Bruce answered.

“Great, then I can ask all my pressing questions then,” Bucky said rubbing his hands together in mischief.

“Barnes, behave yourself,” Steve said tilting his head toward his friend in warning.

“Now where is the fun in that?” Bucky said in a devilish manner as he slapped Steve’s back and headed to the door. “Come on! We need to go get some tuxs if we want to impress a girl like Y/N. Sorry, Rosalyn,” he winked before leaving with Steve close in toe.

“I’m going to regret this aren’t I?” Steve asked himself out loud as he followed Bucky.

“There’s no ‘going to’. You already are,” Tony shouted as the door shut. Steve just looked back and shook his head.

_

“Hey Claire? What are you doing Thursday after work, and maybe Friday as well?” you asked walking up to the front desk and handing your assistant the files you just finished approving.

“Uh, nothing that I know of. Josh is out of town to visit his mom Thursday, and coming back Friday mid-afternoonish. What’s up?”

“I have a favor to ask. It’s kinda a lot, and not very business professional of me. If you don’t want to do it, don’t feel obligated just because I’m your boss. Maybe, I shouldn’t- you know what never mind. Don’t worry about-”

“Rose. You haven’t even asked me the favor yet,” She chuckled at your rambling.

“Right, sorry,” you laughed nervously. “Actually, why don’t you come into my office, and we can figure it out. I need to read an email anyway.”

“Sure,” she said standing and straightening her pencil skirt down as she came out from the desk and followed you into your office.

You walked around to your desk and pulled up the email that Pepper sent you.

“What’s got you so freaked out?” Claire said taking a seat in the chair in front of your desk. “Wait, does this have anything to do with Steve? Omg! I knew you two hit it off!” she said getting giddy and acting like a teenager talking about their crush as she scooted the chair closer to you. “That one day that he came in, he was all googly eyed and basically drooling over you. Did you finally say yes to a date? Oh my gosh! Are you going on a date with Captain America?!” she all but screamed.

“Claire!” you said sending her a look to quiet down.

“Right. Sorry,” she whispered dramatically. “Ok, but tell me I’m right. That would be the only thing that makes sense for your anxiousness. I mean you never get like this over anything work wise, so it has to be personal,” she winked. You sent her a stare that was kindly asking if she was done. She caught on and cleared her throat. “Sorry. I should probably shut up, and let you actually talk.”

“It’s fine,” you laughed at her excitement. “You weren’t wrong though.” She brightened up and was about to go off again, but you put a finger up saying ‘give me one second’. “I do have a date. It however is at a Gala at the Avenger’s Tower. It’s for a charity event for a foster care system.”

“That’s so sweet,” she gushed.

“It is. Only problem is, it’s been a while since I’ve been to an event like this. We used to have charity events for certain projects when I was growing up, and I was asked to attend since I was usually one of the researchers, but I only ever went to a few,” you said telling half the truth.

“So, you’re problem this time around is?” she said pushing on.

“I don’t really know what to wear,” you said shyly.

“You’re asking me for fashion advice?” she said shocked and grabbing her chest.

“Yes.”

“Me?”

“Yes,” you said raising an eyebrow confused that she was confused.

“You dress the way that you do, and you’re going to ask me for fashion tips?” she hadn’t blinked.

“Yes, why is this so surprising?”

“Rose! Look at you! You always have on something stunning, and vintage, and-and- perfect! I’m the last person who you should be asking for advice!”

“You helped me pick out the outfit I wore to the dinner. What’s so different about this?” you laughed.

“That was a dinner. This is a gala. Plus, those were your clothes. All I had to do was layout something you already had,” she huffed slouching in defeat.

“True, but honestly-”

“I mean, I might as well have just pointing blindly in your closet full of fully perfectly styled outfits and sent you off. Anything would have worked!” she continued to ramble.

“Ok, but-”

“And don’t even get me started on all the skirts you have! I mean how does someone even have that many cute skirts? I can never find one good one out of every five stores I go to, let alone the hundreds that you have.”

“Claire-”

“Oh, and the little tie-in-head-scarfs too? So retro and so cutesy. Where do you get those by the way? I went to look them up and-”

“Claire!” you shouted making her jump in her seat as she was brought back to the problem at hand. “Sorry, I just,” you laughed. “I couldn’t get a word in.”

“That’s my bad. I was getting caught up in my thoughts,” she laughed with you.

“Anyway…” you straightened and interlaced your hands while placing them on top of your desk. “Did you ever stop to think that maybe I’m asking you because I wanted to have a friend there for a second opinion?”

She went wide eyed.

“A friend?”

“Yes, Claire. I see you as a friend,” you laughed. “I mean I don’t mean to come off as unprofessional, it’s just that I don’t really have many girlfriends, or friends at all, and after that night that you helped me, I just considered you one. I hope that isn’t weird-”

“No! No, not at all! In all honesty,” she chuckled under her breath as she moved a piece of blonde hair behind her ear. “I don’t have many myself. I mean I have my sister and few semi-friends, but no one that I’m really close with.” She paused looking up and seeing you smile. “I would be happy to consider you one of my close friends. I feel like we know each other pretty well considering we are with each other 8-10 hours of the 5 days we work together.”

“You’re not wrong,” you laughed.

“Ok, so as your friend, I would love to help you with your fashion crisis. Just to be clear though, you don’t need that much help,” she giggled.

“I think I will since I’m so indecisive about these kind of things,” you looked back at the email Pepper sent you when you asked about the dress code and if there was a theme of sorts. “So, Pepper Stark told me that it was a black tie event, and the theme for the evening is Fairytale. They wanted the kids that were coming to have a night to get dressed up and have a kid friendly theme too.”

“That sounds perfect and so fun!” Claire clapped. “Do you have anything in mind for the kind of dress you were thinking?”

“I think so, but I’m not sure how fairytale it is.”

“What’s it look like?”

“It’s vintage actually. I got it from a mentor of mine,” Yours from a while back actually. “I’m going to have to tailor it a little to make it a touch more modern, but I would love to have your input on whether or not it reaches the theme’s expectations.”

“Sure thing! Do you want me to come by Thursday to look or-”

“Actually, since we don’t have much to do for the rest of the day, we can head out early and go shopping to get a better idea if you want. Then afterward we can swing by my house and you can see the dress I have in mind. If I do end up using it, I need to make the modifications soon.”

“I’m up for it! Josh has a late shift at the fire station tonight, and won’t be home ‘till later, so I’m free almost all evening,” she gleamed.

“Perfect! I’ll finish up this last case study and we can head out.”

“I’ll finish up your schedule for tomorrow, and I’ll be ready when you are,” she said smiling, standing, and walking to the door.

“Claire?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you. Truly. This means a lot to me.”

“Me too Rose. It’s nice to have a girlfriend again,” she smiled softly before nodding and heading back to her desk.

__

“Why do all dresses look the same now and days? I mean all the prom dresses are like bedazzled and have the same damn sweetheart neckline.”

“I noticed that. It looks cheesy,” you responded to Claire as she took off her jacket and plopped on your couch in exhaustion from walking across NYC all evening.

“It’s basic. No one wants basic,” she huffed.

“It’s fine. I think I’ll just hop on Pinterest and look over some more designer dresses to get an idea. I’ll be right back with the dress.” you said after taking off your coat and heading to the stairs. “Feel free to help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” you shouted from the top of the stairs.

“Thanks!”

Moments later you came back down with an old dress you had from decades back wrapped in a cover to help keep it clean and fresh.

“Is that it?” she asked sitting up.

“Yep. Here you can look at it if you want. I’m going to grab my laptop and start getting ideas,” you placed it by her and went to the kitchen.

You heard her unzip it, and then a loud gasp came from the living room. You ran back in with the laptop in your arms thinking the gasp meant something was wrong.

“What? Is it ruined? Torn? Faded? What’s wrong?” you said looking over at her dropped jaw.

“No, i-it’s-it’s- I-how?- It-”

“Claire, words,” you said coming closer.

“It’s perfect,” she breathed out.

“Goodness Claire. You had me thinking it was ruined!” you laughed coming to sit in the single chair and opening your computer to start searching.

“No, it just- wow.” She stayed in awe for a few more seconds as you typed away. “Ok, seriously. How do you always manage to have an outfit for every occasion. And I don’t just mean ‘an outfit’ it’s always THE outfit.”

“I like fashion and also like bringing some of the more vintage looks to today's styles. I just use what I’ve bought over the years and mix and match.”

“But this. Where did you get this? This isn’t a mix and match outfit.”

Truth was, it was a dress your father gave it to you after your mom passed away way back when. She used to mess around and design things here and there when she wasn’t working as a teacher. It as something you always admired about her. She had so many different passions and talents, and she was amazing at them all. You were surprised how well it held after all these years, but when you don’t wear it, and it stays in a closed, thick cover, it’s hard to ruin it. You never had a valid reason to wear it until now. This was a special time so you thought you would bring a piece of your mother and father along with you for the ride. Of course, you couldn't tell Claire that though. She thought you were an orphan, so saying your mother made it would be suspicious.

“Uh, like I said at the office. An old mentor of mine gave it to me.”

“She just gave it to you?”

“She was in her 60’-70’s and had the dress from when she was younger. She saw me as a daughter, and before she passed she gave it to me for a different gala. I ended up not going, so I haven’t worn it yet,” you lied. “I did however think about using it, so added a few pieces of my own to it back then.”

It’s true. You thought about wearing it once, and started adding trims, threading, ruffles, and different styles of your own, but you never really finished it.

“So this is what? 40-50’s years old?” she said pulling it out a little.

“Sure,” you shrugged knowing it was a lot older than that. “Ok, so come over here and tell me what you think about adjusting it to be this kind of top.”

She jumped up from her spot and ran to look over your shoulder.

“I mean it’s nice, but I think there’s something better out there.”

“Ok, what about this?”

“No, wouldn’t work with the shape it is now. You would have to find some extra fabric.”

“Ok, this?”

“Too modern. You need to keep that vintage flare. Wait! I have something that is modern, but classy at the same time! Here, let me see.” She took the laptop and started typing furiously to find what she was thinking. “Perfect,” she grinned as she handed it back to you. “All you need to do is bunch it up at the waist line, and then flare it right here. I think that dress can do it,” she said crossing her arms as she stood looking between the dress and the screen.

“And you said you wouldn’t be able to help,” you smirked as you pulled up measurements and plans for the tailoring.

“Ok, ok. So I took a lot of home ec. classes in high school and may have minored in fashion marketing in college,” she shrugged, walking back over to the dress. “I can help you with the tailoring if you want.”

“That would be great. Thanks again Claire.”

You guys spent the rest of the night drawing and making measurements on the dress to see if what you were wanting to do would work. Sure enough, if everything worked out, you would have the Gala dress you wanted.

Claire got a text from her husband saying he would be home soon, and she started gathering her things.

“Thanks for letting me in on this. I had a blast, and can’t wait to put the finishing touches on it with you,” she smiled wrapping her coat around her.

“No, thank you Claire. I would probably be sitting in my room or office the next two day trying to come up with an excuse to not go and end up making a fool of myself if it wasn’t for you pushing me out of my comfort zone.” She laughed knowing it was true. “That’s why I have one more favor to ask you.” you grinned crossing your arms, and sending her a look.

“What’s that?” she said raising an eyebrow.

“I asked Pepper if I was allowed to bring a friend for emotional support. She just got back to me, and she said she understands how it can be intimidating to be around such rich stingy people, who think money is everything, and then you add the Avengers to the mix. She told me she would add plus two to my name.”

“Are you saying-?”

“I’m asking if you and Josh would like to attend the Gala with me on Friday,” you smiled seeing her face trying to process the news. She stood frozen for a second, and after almost a minute you began to get nervous. “Uh, Claire. You’re scaring me here,” you said waving a hand in her face.

“I-I-I-”

“Claire are you ok-”

“OH MY GOSH YES! I can’t believe I get to go to a freaking BALL!” she screamed jumping up and down.

“Ha ha ha! I’m glad your excited- oh!” you gasped as she grasped you in her arms and hugged tight. “Very excited I see.”

“Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” she said squeezing you tighter with each thanks.

“Can’t. Breath,” you gasped.

“Oh! Sorry!” she said letting go and jumping back. “Oh my goodness! I need to talk to Josh about it, but I’m not taking no for an answer. So you’ll either see me with my fiance, or just me.” she winked.

“I’m glad. It’ll be nice to have someone familiar by my side throughout the night.”

“Glad I can be that person for you,” she smiled genuinely, and then her phone rang. “That would be him. I should probably go.” she sighed. “Thank you again Rose. This really is… This is something. Oh! I need to find a dress!”

“Let me know if you have any trouble, and I’ll try to lend a hand,” you laughed as she opened the door and you followed.

“Ok, sounds good! See you tomorrow!” she all but giggled as she ran to her car in a jumpy and excited mood.

You watched as she rolled out and you closed your door. You walked over to the dress, and gave it a look over since it had been so long since you had seen it.

“You really knew what you were doing mom,” you smiled fondly at the creation, and gently ran your fingers down the fabric. “Sad that you never got to wear it,” you said thinking back to her memory. “I miss you both. I promise to fix this all,” you said as a single tear went down your cheek. You quickly wiped it off, and zipped up the bag. “Ok, none of that. This is a happy thing,” you breathed out hanging the dress in the hallway closet, and giving it one last look before walking up the stairs to your room.

“No backing out Y/N. No backing out,” you said getting anxious for it all.

Chapter 16

Used to be Overlooked Tag:

@xa-dia  @losersunitetonight  @fashionlive15 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan@steverogersxreader@laneygthememequeen @lauravic @shreddedparchment@iheartsebastianstan@almostelegantfire@manymaria111 @carol-damn-vers @angelkurenai@squirrelgirl67@stevieboyharrington @deaniebeanieandsammywammy @demon-doggo @badassbeckettswan @blueenemy24

Other Tags:

@shamelesslydean @sleepless-sin  @sandlee44 @gripmetight-raisemefromperdition@spnwoman@ravengirl94@carryonmywaywardcaptain@ezilyamuzed@thosekidswhohuntmonsters@purpleskiesandcherrypies@anise-d-castle6 @tailsoflightning@spookycowz @eve05glee@snffbeebee @deans-baby-momma@natura1phenomenon @tftumblin@gh0stgurl@screechingartisancashbailiff @kersumgen @herscrunchiehairtie@dreaminemz@monkeymcpoopoo@a-girl-who-loves-disney @andthatsmyworld@greenarrowhead@savio-the-depressed-moose @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce@greyeyedsmile14 @sundownridge @adoptdontshop-blog @casper57  @rainflowermoonlibrary@traceyaudette @luciathewinchestergirl @almostelegantfire@thefaithfulwriter@deansgirl-1968 @a–1–1–3

If I tagged you and you aren’t normally on my tag list, I thought you would enjoy the story. Fair warning, it is a slow burn so we will get to the bottom of the issue later, but the burn is what makes it soooooo sweet. I’m really excited for this series, and would love your feedback:) Thank you!

If you want removed let me know. After 3 chapters I will only tag those that I normally do, or those that ask:)

[talkingismylifewrites]

So I saw in one of your replies you came up with a mob boss au. Would you ever write it and put it on A03 cos I would LOVE to read it. Also please say John's the mobster who's like "if you mess with Roger you'll die" so a rival gang kidnap Roger to blackmail John. But then Roger turns out to be trained in combat and beats the shit out them all and escapes and when John hears he's just like "I fucking warned you not to mess with him!"

okay this is a) a long time coming and b) was born from me watching all of narcos in like...a week

in fact, it legit started with me texting lo “maybe i’ve been watching too much narcos but.....” 

okay so our story begins with the knowledge that roger’s dad ran the mob

like roger is his heir and his son and his dad is the Big Kingpin

john’s dad is a shitty little lackey who has waaaaaaay too many debts so he grew up in the mob?? but lower ranks

and john sorta started getting involved when he was like 10 or so bc no one looks twice at the nicely groomed white kid right? and his dad was Desperate

and like he and roger had this whole Star Crossed Lovers shit bc a) roger was Not Allowed to be Gay and b) they weren’t ever supposed to have even met like completely different pay grades

BUT roger overheard him arguing with his dad over a better way to do a job that would be less dangerous and way harder to track but he got brushed off with a “the boss is always right you don’t argue john it’ll get you killed”

but rog was like.... shit no that’s WAY better

and ended up dropping a few lines to find out who this kid is cause... he’s smart and smart goes far right

like u gotta look Out for the smart ones, he knows that, his dad taught him that

(with backhands and cruel fists while teaching him chess, that one night in the barrel when he fucked up a simple plan when he was 13...)

(like rog is smart he’s just not Great at compartmentalization. so his plans start out great but go off the railed as he gets excited/pissed off) but like johns smart he picks up when he’s suddenly being tailed and is like Ok What Did I Do to one of them

and the guy panics and takes him straight to roger who is like..... how did u fuck up a simple tail, Jesus Christ

but yeah like he and john end up having a sort of clandestine friendship of sorts? in which roger essentially brings half baked plans to him and john Fixes them

which sorta turns into mutual pining

john is like this is my angry mob boss son best friend and roger’s like this is my evil genius best friend who kills people

but yeah basically roger’s dad keeps beating him when things go wrong, even if its not his fault

John is observant okay he was noticing the direct correlation between roger “getting jumped” and plans going wrong

So when it’s one of his??? That goes tits up (and tbh it wasn’t even like a bad screw up they just had a witness who was taken care of the next day) and roger like slinks into Johns apartment/office with the break down for John and his eyes is swollen completely close and he’s got a fat lip the size of a strawberry John immediately is ready for murder

And roger never admits it’s his dad???? who’s beating him???

because Taylors Should Be Better

Because why would he? It’s embarrassing but also it’s happened his whole life it’s expected of a mob bosses son (think the Baba Yaga scene in John wick 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻)

which then turns into john pounding him into the mattress and promising no one will Ever land a hand on him again when he turns up one time with a battered to hell face because something went Wrong on one of the plans (which. extra emotional effect bc it was one of johns)

and like a month later roger’s dad is mysteriously found shot dead

cuz John mentally is like okay. Plan Ides of March is a go. Moving it up three years he’s getting taken out tomorrow

And John KILLS ROGER’S DAD IN COLD FUCKING BLOOD

the only??? person??? roger would EVER take that from is his dad

like johns heard the stories about roger taking out men twice his size yeah? but roger never has any defensive wounds on his hand

John knows that roger can and will defend himself

He’s seen him in action

But he never raises a hand against his dad when he straight up could kill him with one hand tied behind his back

so john figures it out and a month later roger’s dad is dead 

and now they need a leader?? another boss

and they look to roger, but roger is like no

he knows himself well enough, he is not strong enough in terms of planning and plotting, he’s a good action man but not strategist

that’s john

so roger steps aside and is like john is going to run the show

obvi there’s a power void and there’s basically civil war but with roger’s ruthlessness and john’s genius they fucking take all the little fractions down and they take them down HARD

john sits on his throne with roger standing over his shoulder, knuckles bloodied and grin wicked

and everyone knows if you fuck with roger??? you fuck with john

and vice versa

once, roger got shot on a mission and it was like, the one time?? john loans him out for a plan that wasn’t his

and he’s fine it’s just a graze but John and him in their bathroom and Johns like hyper focused on cleaning the wound and he furious and harsh and is like you fucking dumbass did no one teach you to duck?? You fool you dumb piece of shit

and roger just gently cradles john’s face in his hands and lifts his head to look at him and kisses him so gently and he’s like it’s okay, i’m fine, i’m here

and john’s like you are never going on any raid or plan or anything that i have not PERSONALLY vetted 

the next day, the guy who’s plan it was is sniveling and apologizing on his knees in front of John and Roger; it was an accident, he says

and johns like “it’s okay. i understand, these things happen.”

and then just blank eyed shoots him in the femur

“these things just happen, you understand?”

roger just smiles from behind him, doesn’t even flinch in the aftermath

john and roger rule with an iron fist until one day things go tits up

and roger ends up taking the fall for john, and he gets sent to jail

john, in retaliation, goes on the warpath

Because he’s totally turned around the family business they’ve gone more corporate and it’s more like s legit business now?? They still kill people and rob and shit but they’re not monsters or criminals

And they give money back into the neighborhood and shit and donate to charity and kiss babies blah blah blah

But the authorities are like we need to show our strength against these villains so Rogers looking at like 25years to life

And John just kinda is like okay cool I can fix this

And it’s the biggest campaign ever he’s got the best lawyers on retainer he’s blackmailing people left and right he’s buying witnesses and finding loopholes like he’s fucking working the system and he’s gonna get roger out even if it kills him because in his eyes it was His Fault

Roger is like your honor clearly there’s been some sort of mistake

Because the only thing that places him there is a grainy cell phone video and a witness that’s not exactly clean

So like the case isn’t solid

But it’s enough for a trial like most of it is circumstantial

And John is like I would kill the whole world for you and Rogers like sounds excessive but same

the difference between roger and john is that john would kill the whole world for roger after sitting down and planning the whole thing for several weeks. roger would kill the whole world for john and not remember doing it after (though still probably not regret it)

Roger would act first think later

And John would be like oh I planned it all out two years ago in the shower

Just in case

so roger gets sent to jail and john just...looses it

like he has to get yanked off of miami when the verdict is read of two years sentencing because its not technically miami’s fault??? its just shitty

and meanwhile, roger is getting dragged off to jail and he’s like don’t worry, babe, it’s gonna be fine

(it both is and isn’t)

roger shows up in jail and within a week he’s running the joint, he’s got lackeys and he’s paid off the guards and its basically a vacation

meanwhile john is just burning his competition to the ground, he’s making people rue the day they ever crossed him

(they TOTALLY get conjugal visits that last longer than uhhhh usual)

bc you betcha ass they’d be So fucking possessive of one another. like roger rules that prison with an iron fist 

anyways, miami appeals on the basis of circumstantial, and he basically proves that legit ANYONE else could have done it and this is clearly railroading and obviously roger is innocent

and after 8 months, he walks

when he gets out???? john is there to pick him up

they drive off to a safe house outside of the city and they had wicked crazy dangerous hot sex and its just insanity

and when they come back??? 

its like people know to just flee when they see them

john, mob boss and kingpin, and roger his dangerous and beautiful second in command 

also freddie is roger’s bff, miami is their lawyer, and crystal is roger’s bodyguard who always gets into more trouble than roger but he once took a bullet for roger so he’s chill

ps anyone tries to kidnap roger??? gets dealt with a) by roger and if roger manages to let them get away then b) john. you’d rather be dealt with by roger, and not john