#and my cousins cool enough so i trust her to hopefully not pick out anything thats

[foxtriestobiteandmaimandkilland]

holy shit my mum was just like. ur american aunt is coming here next week. what merch do u want from ppl u follow in america. and im like. what. what the fuck. u gave me like. 5 seconds. idfk. and she pointed at my crumb merch and was like what abt this person. theyre american. do you want more of their merch. and im like. what the fuckkk. i literally have 5 seconds to think. but ye so idfk what im supposed 2 ask my aunt 2 bring as like. souvenirs or whatever tf. like nothing would ARRIVE by next week. sooo i just said idk get my cousin 2 pick out some pins. so im gonna get pins. bc literally the only merch i can think of rn is genloss merch and thatd arrive in like months or w/e and is expensive as fuck and i literally just spent the last of my money on some more pins and also clothes so. yea. OH MY GOD MY DAD JUST KNOCKED ON MY DOOR TO ASK THE EXACT SAME QUESTION. GIVE ME SOME FUCKING TIME HOLY SHIT. anyways i cant. think of  like. america exclusive stuff. that. id want. idfk. like it took me so long before 2 decide that getting crumb merch would b a good idea bc theres so many factors that weigh into it. it was a good idea tho i got the crumbeanie its cute as  fuck. but. yea. aunt jumpscare. oh wait oh fuckkk. shes coming here 4 my step grandads funeral. and like. im gonna have 2 go there. and like. talk 2 ppl there or w/e. idek half of them bc theyd all be his family bc hes not related 2 any of us by blood only thru my grandma. and i hate my american aunt. aw man.

[carewyncromwell]

Is that a Cinderella AU part I see? Yes, yes, it is! And one hopefully not as dark and devoid of hope as the last part...

Charlie’s castle carpenter tunic is based on this design; Bill’s castle guard uniform, referenced in a previous part, is based on this real uniform from 16th century France, though with a Royaumanian-worthy blue/red color scheme. My headcanon is that Charlie (who’s described as stocky in the books) is 5′5″, only two inches taller than his “unofficial twin,” Carewyn, while Bill is a friggin’ giant the tallest of the Cursebreaking squad at 6′1″ (one inch taller than Ben Copper at full height and the same height as his actor, Domhnall Gleeson!). The entire Cromwell family is on the smaller side, with Charles as the tallest at 5′10″. Oh, and yes, the Cromwells are all a piece of work, but Charles is indisputably the worst apple in the bushel. 😒

Previous part is here -- whole tag is here -- Katriona “KC” Cassiopeia belongs to @kc-needs-coffee -- and I hope you enjoy! 

x~x~x~x

Carewyn was discovered outside by her aunts Pearl and Claire and uncle Blaise and brought inside. When they interrogated her about why she had returned to the estate in the middle of the night, however, Carewyn was unable to answer them. She was unable to speak at all -- nor was she able to eat, drink, or sleep. Instead she simply settled down in a huddled ball on her old cot by the fireplace and stayed there, her arms around her knees and her eyes devoid of all light or awareness. 

Whatever had happened, Charles seemed to have determined Carewyn would be of no use to him in the palace, the way she was -- and so, at dawn, he sent a messenger to the King and Queen, telling them that she’d taken ill and would have to remain at home in the interim. 

Carewyn’s cousins at first took some vindictive pleasure out of bullying her, now that she was back under their roof. Arsen and Kain actually picked Carewyn up off the ground and pushed her around like some human-sized doll while Elmer sang a mean little song he’d written about her --

“Cindy-Cindy-Cinderwyn, the finest of her class --

The duchess of the dust and soot, her kingdom’s made of ash!

She went to court; oh, did they chortle, snicker, and guffaw --

So Cindy-Cindy-Cinderwyn ran home, crying, ‘Mama!’”

Before long, though, her lack of a reaction seemed to make it not so fun of a game. Within two days, Tristan, the youngest of Carewyn’s cousins, actually threw a tantrum because Carewyn completely ignored him splashing his paints all over her. 

“What’s wrong with you!?” the boy screamed, beside himself. “Why won’t you get mad at me?! Why won’t you run away and cry?! Why are you so -- so -- WEIRD?!”

Blaise was most perturbed when his son actually burst full-on into tears. Clenching his jaw furiously, he brought an arm around Tristan and swept him back inside and away from the vacant-eyed Carewyn. Then he went straight to the dining hall to speak to Charles.

“Father, something must be done about Winnie,” he hissed. “This is not normal.”

Pearl leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “Her behavior is shameful. To think the Cromwell blood runs through the veins of that girl...”

“It’s pathetic, that’s what it is,” said Claire in sycophantic agreement. 

“Winnie may be a pathetic thing, but she is our thing,” Blaise shot back fiercely, “and she’s practically dead as she is.”

He turned to Charles. 

“We’ve already lost Lane and sent Jacob off,” he said in a quiet, cold voice. “Are we to simply let Winnie waste away?”

Charles had his hands folded in front of him on the table. At Blaise’s words, his own almond-shaped blue eyes -- identical to his children’s and nearly all of his grandchildren’s -- narrowed. 

“I must admit, it is a shame that Carewyn has stopped being useful,” he said lowly. “Iris may still be a set of eyes for us inside the palace, but she’s hardly clever enough to do much of anything on her own that’s useful.”

Claire actually looked hurt. “Father...Iris just sent us a letter this morning. Was it not useful to you?”

Charles’s eyes were very cold upon his daughter. “Hardly. She spent a good chunk of it complaining that Carewyn did something to the Prince, before leaving the palace...clearly trying to make excuses for her own failure to hold Prince Henri’s attention.”

Claire’s eyes welled up with shame and she hung her head. 

“It wouldn’t be the first time that Iris has blamed Winnie for stealing one of her suitors’ attention,” said Pearl seriously, “but we have yet to get any explanation about why she’s returned to us against your instructions. And Claire and I did hear a horse galloping away, that night. Could it have been Prince Henri?”

Blaise scoffed. “Doubtful. You think a Prince would ever favor a plain girl with no dowry or status?”

“You warned Winnie yourself that the Prince could want her as a conquest,” Pearl said darkly. “Heartbreak would more than explain her current state...”

The idea made Blaise flush with rage. 

“Whoever rode that horse, it was not the Prince,” said Charles very smoothly. He rose to his feet, picking up his dragon-headed cane and strolling over to the window to look out. “From what my informants have told me...Prince Henri was at the Royaumanian army camp that entire night.”

His children all straightened up, taken aback. 

“At the war front?” said Pearl, shocked. 

“Yes,” said Charles. “It quite upset their Majesties. Even more so when he returned to the palace in the morning dressed like a commoner and declared to them and the entire royal court that he intended to open up peace talks with the soon-to-be King of Florence.”

“Soon-to-be King?” said Blaise, his eyes narrowing to slits. “Then the old one kicked the bucket?”

“Yes...and it turns out the replacement Crown Prince is something of a populist. From what I’ve heard, his very first decision as future monarch was to ask every Florentine nobleman to -- should they wish to remain at court -- donate a portion of their wealth to him, so that he could then use it to buy a feast and custom-tailored clothing for his soldiers.”

Charles was clearly offended by the idea. Blaise was too.

“Uppity brat,” he sneered. “I guess that’s what’s you get, when you choose a bastard peasant as your future king...”

Pearl, however, looked a bit more cynical. “Seems rather unwise, to antagonize those who come closest to you in status...”

“On the contrary,” said Charles. “It’s most shrewd. As Blaise said, the boy was the King’s illegitimate son. That would offend the standards of just about anyone of good breeding...thus it would be foolish to try to court them for approval. A rat can communicate best with other rats -- and sadly, a swarm of rats is just what you get, when they gather: a band of filthy, hungry, disgusting creatures who will eat away at what we hold dear.”

His blue eyes flashed. 

“And now our Prince fancies becoming allies with such vermin.”

Claire looked uncertainly at Pearl and Blaise. Both of them looked perturbed. 

“If the War ends, there’ll be less money in the future for us,” Blaise growled. “Our investments in armaments built this estate...”

“My investments, Blaise,” Charles said in a very cool voice. “Do not forget that even the ones done in your and my son-in-laws’ names were still orchestrated by me.”

He pushed his palm down into the top of his cane, his long fingers trailing over the metallic snout of the dragon-head handle. 

“It’s far worse than that, however. The Royaumanian royal family’s financial troubles was what has lent me their ear from the beginning. Gave me access to their decision-making -- gave me some leverage in coaxing them to join our two families. Should the King and Queen become friends and allies with Florence’s new royal brat, they may get the idea to redistribute their courtiers’ wealth as he has, to alleviate the nation’s debts...meaning we not only won’t be bringing in as much money as before, but that we’ll also have to submit to parting with what we already have, just to indulge in petty charity.”

Charles’s eyes narrowed upon his reflection in the ice-trimmed window. 

“Our family’s chance at ascending into royalty...at the absolute, irreversible power owed us...is slipping away.”

Claire got up and tried to comfort her father by taking hold of his shoulder. “But Father...surely there’s still some hope? If Iris -- ”

But Charles warded Claire off with the back of his hand, sweeping across the room. 

“If your daughter thinks that a mere maidservant was able to captivate the Prince more than her, then perhaps it’s the maidservant who I should enlist in getting our family what we deserve.”

He shot a look over his shoulder at Pearl. “Fetch Carewyn and bring her to me.”

Pearl dragged Carewyn up to the dining hall by her arm. The ginger-haired Cromwell hadn’t changed clothes or washed since she’d returned home, so her face was covered in cinders and her forest green and white dress was still splashed with the paints Tristan had thrown on her. 

At the start, Charles feigned concern, saying he hated seeing his granddaughter looking so ill and unhappy, but his words barely penetrated Carewyn’s mind. They were just more lies -- just like everything else out of his mouth. She should know...being a liar herself. So she didn’t say a word in response. She made no response at all. And soon enough, Charles did come around to what he really wanted. 

“His Highness is set to make a fatal error...but you have his ear. We need you to return to your duties in the palace and ensure that he does not trust the Prince called Cosimo.”

Carewyn’s lightless, empty eyes ran over her grandfather’s face for a long moment...but she did not answer. 

“This is a noble duty, child,” said Charles. Although he put on a smile, it did not touch his eyes. “This is your chance to protect both your family and your country. The Florentines have been our enemies since before your mother was born...and now they seek to feign honor long enough to lure our Prince into their jaws...”

He brought a hand down onto Carewyn’s shoulder. 

“Jacob would be proud, knowing you were helping him in his fight against them.”

Carewyn stared at Charles. Her almond-shaped blue eyes were as dark and turbulent as two miniature hurricanes. And yet, she did not speak.

Charles tilted his head, raising his eyebrows and considering her expression with that cold, detached smile. “Come now, my dear...will you not speak to your grandfather? I do so hate to see you like this.”

Carewyn’s gaze drifted away as Charles’s eyes bore into her -- and yet the silence dragged on with neither breaking it.

Pearl, Claire, and Blaise, for their parts, were becoming all the more unsettled by Carewyn’s lack of a response. Blaise actually strode forward and shouted at her.

“You will speak when spoken to, you ungrateful little -- !”

He made as if to strike Carewyn, but Pearl grabbed his forearm and held it back, flashing him a warning look before turning her righteous anger onto Carewyn. 

“Your grandfather requires your services, Winnie,” Pearl said very sharply. “Don’t you have something to say to him?”

Even with this, however, Carewyn didn’t say anything. Then, with as much energy and emotion as a ghost, she stepped back and out of Charles’s grip and turned to go. 

Something flickered in Charles’s expression. 

“I did not give you permission to leave,” he said very softly. 

But Carewyn didn’t answer or turn around. Claire had to block the doorframe to keep her from leaving the room. 

“Your grandfather said you’re not allowed to go,” Claire said, her voice trying to be sharp but instead sounding rather unsettled. 

Carewyn stared at Claire with those hollow, empty eyes in silence as Charles approached her from behind. 

“You will do your duty to this family, child,” he said. It was striking how much scarier his voice sounded, when it was quieter -- Charles Cromwell was the sort of man who didn’t need to shout in order to be intimidating. “After all...that is the pact we made when I took you and your brother in, is it not?”

He took hold of Carewyn’s shoulder, whispering in her ear.

“Do not forget that everything you have is because of my charity. I have no desire to punish you...but I shall withdraw my kindnesses, if I must.”

Carewyn was very still. Then she once again broke out of Charles’s grip and tried to move past Claire. 

Before she could get far, however, Charles snatched her up by the hair. With a strangled cry of pain, Carewyn was thrown to the ground with astonishing force, Charles’s fist clenched fast around her hair. 

“Your head is not the only thing in my hands, Carewyn,” he reminded her very coldly. “I hope you remember that.”

He wrenched her up onto her feet by her hair, and Carewyn had to clench her teeth to keep herself from crying out again. 

“I have been very patient with your theatrics...but I grow weary of coddling you. Should I send some message to Jacob, so that you behave? Perhaps if your head is not one you will defend, perhaps his is...”

“Liar.”

The word escaped Carewyn’s mouth as a wispy, hollow rasp, and yet it was enough to make everyone in the room stiffen. Somewhere out in the hall, one might’ve caught a quickly stifled intake of breath. 

Carewyn’s eyes, although so dark, seemed to have gained an odd gleam in the back of them, like flaming cinders in a dying fire, as she stared up at Charles. 

“You’re a liar,” she said again, her broken voice as rough as sandpaper in her throat as it rose in volume. “I know your life isn’t bound to Jacob’s. Any spell you could’ve had cast on him would have broken at midnight, the very night you sent him away -- the very night you ripped him away from me and sent him off to War against his will!”

Her blue eyes flared with hatred. 

“That’s why you’ve never once gotten word from him -- because there’s no word you could receive from him at all! Admit it!”

There was a horrible silence. Pearl, Blaise, and Claire all looked from Carewyn to Charles and back. 

Charles bore down upon his granddaughter, his face as cold as some ivory mask with hard, diamond-like eyes. 

“So that’s what this is about,” he said softly. “Assigning blame. Very well, Carewyn...let us discuss this. You came to me as a child, sobbing and distraught beyond words...begging me to save your brother’s life when he was already on death’s door. You had nothing to offer me at that time, nor did your brother -- and yet I, out of the goodness of my heart, agreed to take you in. All I asked was that you show proper gratitude...a term you accepted at the time, and yet now have seen fit to break.”

He yanked Carewyn up by her hair and threw her into the table with a WHAM. Carewyn cried out in pain, before crumpling to the floor in a heap. 

“I spent a good deal of my own money and discarded my own honor to try to find someone to save your brother’s life, if only to bring the light back to your eyes. Jacob was brought back to health and you were reunited with him, just as you’d hoped. And yet now you seek to demonize my wish that you show gratitude? That I collect on the debt owed me?”

He brought the heel of his shoe down on Carewyn’s shoulder with force, slamming her face down against the floor. 

“And worse,” he whispered, “you wish to demonize the fact that, all these years, I was too grief-stricken to tell you of your brother’s passing?”

Blaise, Claire, and Pearl all stiffened. Only Claire, however, looked shocked. 

“Jacob is...dead?” she whispered shakily. 

“I knew such a revelation would be crippling to a fragile, weak heart such as yours,” said Charles, his diamond-like eyes very hard upon the back of Carewyn’s head. “I knew that the knowledge that your brother died the morning after his departure, and that his body had to be burned with every other prisoner in those barracks instead of receiving a proper burial...would break your heart.”

Carewyn had started to shake. Her face had lost all of its color, and the flicker of rebellion she’d shown mere moments ago had gone out. 

“You’ve never been a stupid girl, Carewyn. You really should have figured it out years ago...and yet, like a child who believes in Yuletide gift-givers, you latched onto your brother’s memory even when all logic said you shouldn’t. I’m certain everyone else in this family saw through my pretense -- knew that it was merely something to placate you, soothe your temperamental emotions. They always have made it difficult for you to see things clearly.”

Charles's eyes narrowed. 

“You were the one who disregarded your duty to the man who put a roof over your head, clothed you and fed you. Perhaps the truth wouldn’t be so crippling if you had simply done as I wished...rather than chase after a ghost.”

Tears streamed down Carewyn’s face. Although her eyes were so hollow and she shook so badly, however, the grief inside of her was not just numbing. It had grown to such an extent that it for a moment made her lose her head completely. In a violent move, she wrenched herself off the ground with a mad scream and threw a fist right at Charles’s face. Unfortunately Carewyn had never been particularly strong -- and so Charles was able to seize her wrist, twisting it away from him and holding her back with little difficulty. 

“Blaise,” said Charles icily. “Fetch the whip.”

Blaise looked stricken. “Father -- ”

“The child requires discipline,” he said without looking at his son. “I will not have her thinking that following her brother’s example is acceptable behavior.”

Blaise closed his eyes and bowed his head. Then, with a grim look on his face, he swept from the dining hall. 

When he entered the hallway, he found all of Carewyn’s cousins (excluding Iris, who of course was still back at the palace) huddled up against the wall. They’d clearly been listening to every word...and for once, none of them looked the least bit amused. Their faces were all very pale. 

Blaise considered them all for a moment in silence. Then he brought an arm around his son and led him away. 

“Come, Tristan. You will return to your room and stay there until I come fetch you.”

Everyone at the Cromwell estate tried to block out the screams of pain that echoed out of the dining hall. After just under an hour, Charles finally stopped, whether out of physical tiredness or just having finally spent his temper, and bid Pearl and Claire to carry Carewyn up to the tower room at the back of the estate. Charles didn’t want her to leave that room again until she was prepared to behave appropriately. 

Carewyn had expected Pearl and Claire to simply throw her on the floor and leave her there. Instead, however, Pearl sent Claire to go fetch some towels and cold water, and she hoisted Carewyn up onto the worn feather cot on the far end. Her aunts then removed her torn dress so that they could clean the open gashes Charles’s whip had delivered to her back. 

As far back as Carewyn could remember, her aunts had never liked her. Her mother Lane had even told stories about her siblings and how Charles had pressured his children to compete against each other their whole lives. When Carewyn had moved in, Pearl had refused to look her in the face for over a month...and thanks to her daughters’ dislike for Carewyn, Claire had always treated her niece just as coldly. And yet, now...for some reason, they sat with her.

“...Why are you doing this?”

Carewyn couldn’t see either Pearl or Claire’s faces while she was lying on her stomach, but she heard the mattress give a light squeak, as if Claire had shifted slightly to look at Pearl. 

“Don’t you think you’ve questioned your elders more than enough already?” said Pearl in a very hard voice. 

She brought a cold cloth up to the largest gash on Carewyn’s shoulder, dabbing at it lightly. 

“You may be a stupid, arrogant, pathetic girl, Winnie,” she said quietly, “...but I know the pain of losing one’s sibling.”

Carewyn felt some pity in her heart despite herself. 

“Thank you,” she murmured. 

Pearl scoffed. “Thank me by doing as your grandfather says.”

Carewyn closed her eyes. Then she turned her head away from her aunts and didn’t reply.

Taking her silence as a refusal, Pearl withdrew quickly and hoisted herself up off the worn mattress. 

“Come, Claire.”

Claire hesitantly inched herself up off the mattress too, fetching the bucket of water from the floor as she went. Carewyn could see her glance back at her, when she reached the doorframe. 

“Your grandfather bid you stay in here until you behave,” said Claire, and her voice sounded almost reproachful. “Please don’t make him punish you further.”

But Carewyn did not make any move or sound. And so Claire closed the door behind her, and Pearl locked it with a loud CLACK behind them. 

Once Pearl and Claire descended the stairs of the tower, however, they caught the sound of raised voices from outside the open manor door. One of the voices they recognized as Blaise’s -- the other, they couldn’t have known, belonged to Charlie Weasley.

When Carewyn’s friends learned that she would not be returning to the palace, they all reacted with concern. They knew how crippling the revelation of Jacob’s death had been, but the knowledge that she was back with her family, rather than at the palace where they could help her heal, well...that only made the whole affair worse. Clearly, as KC pointed out, the King and Queen probably wouldn’t have been that lenient toward a servant who was unable to work and had no reason to suspect anything malevolent in Charles wanting to “take care” of his granddaughter. After all, Andre himself had also presumed Carewyn was well-treated by her family, before he’d been forced to conclude otherwise. 

“I’ll tell them the truth -- ” Andre had said forcefully, but Badeea only shook her head sadly.

“It won’t help, your Highness,” she murmured. 

KC nodded grimly. “Carewyn is Lord Cromwell’s ward, Andre. Her only possible legal guardian and benefactor. That means she belongs to him, whether we like it or not. No matter how badly she’s treated, or what she’s told you about him, he’ll still have that power over her. And as long as he’s a Lord with more financial capitol than our entire family does combined...the King and Queen won’t want to discipline him.”

Bill and Charlie, however, just couldn’t accept this. So after their scheduled duties, they visited the Cromwell estate themselves, requesting to see Carewyn. When Blaise tried to turn them away, the exchange got more heated.

“I’ve already told you that Winnie will not see you,” Blaise said, his blue eyes flashing at the two brothers. 

“We’d like to hear that from her, please,” said Bill, but his politeness had a noticeable edge to it. 

“She is in no condition to entertain anyone, least of all a pair of peasant boys who presume to trespass on our land and make demands. Now get out.”

“We’re not leaving until we see Carey!” Charlie said fiercely. 

“You will leave now, or I shall see to it that you are thrown out,” snarled Blaise. 

“Go ahead and try it!” said Charlie, getting right up in the blond man’s face. 

“What’s all this now?”

Charles Cromwell had emerged from the open door of the manor. Dashing out after him were Pearl and Claire. 

Blaise’s eyes flared. “A couple of troublemakers who’ve come looking for Winnie. ‘Westley,’ they call themselves -- ”

“Weasley,” corrected Bill. His eyes were narrowed as he faced Charles. “Bill and Charlie Weasley. We worked in the palace with Carewyn -- we heard she was sick and came to see her.” 

Charles glanced at Pearl and Claire out the side of his eye, before his eyes swiveled back over to the two Weasleys. 

“...I’m afraid my dear Carewyn is resting upstairs.”

“May we see her, please?” Bill said. Once again, his words were polite, but his voice was very firm and pointed. 

“No,” said Charles. “You may not.”

His eyes narrowed upon Bill’s freckled face. One could wonder what he saw in Bill that day -- whether it was the protective “big brother” affect that reminded him of his deceased grandson Jacob, the sincere devotion Bill felt for his granddaughter Carewyn, or simply the pure distrust and dislike toward him -- but whatever it was, it served to make the Lord’s face that bit more mask-like as he considered the ginger-haired castle guard.

“‘Bill Weasley,’ you said your name was? Well, Mr. Weasley...you can be rest assured that Carewyn is being quite well taken care of, here with her family, where she belongs.”

Charlie’s eyes flashed. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Charles raised his eyebrows very coolly. 

“We know all about what you did to Carey, Cromwell,” said Charlie. “We know full well how you ‘take care’ of your family...unless you think Jacob would actually speak on your behalf, if he were still alive?”

Charles, amazingly, didn’t react at all to this, but it only served to make his mask-like face that much more unsettling. 

“No one feels Jacob’s loss more than I. And I should thank you not to question that, boy.”

His eyes flickered from him to Bill. 

“I don’t know what Carewyn has told you...but I’m afraid I must apologize for it, all the same. The child has always had a difficult relationship with the truth...she’s often spun tales to...try to make herself seem more appealing, to the people around her.”

“Takes a liar to know one, I guess,” spat Charlie. 

Pearl’s eyes flared. “You have some nerve to speak to a nobleman thusly -- ”

“Pearl,” Charles soothed her, but his voice was hardly warm or comforting. Instead his eyes bore into Charlie with a darker glint. “You do yourself and your brother no favors in insulting me. I could have been kind and offered to send word, when Carewyn was well enough to see you...but I can see clearly that the both of you would be a toxic influence on my granddaughter, should I allow you to associate with her.”

“Toxic?” repeated Charlie, his voice rising. “You son of a -- !”

“Noble bloodline, unlike you,” Charles Cromwell said in a very low, foreboding voice. “One with enough money and influence to force you to comply with my wishes, if I must.”

Charlie wasn’t intimidated. “You do that, and we’ll tell the whole world about what you did. Reckon you won’t have quite so much respect from everyone, once they learn you used magic to trick Carey into staying under your thumb -- ”

“A dangerous accusation for anyone to make,” said Charles, his foreboding voice deepening further. “More still for a boy relying solely on the flawed testimony of a maidservant...and belonging to a family so impoverished by its size that they’d have no means to rebuild, in the event of some unforeseen tragedy...”

Charlie’s eyes widened dangerously. He looked like he wanted to punch Carewyn’s grandfather right in the face, but Bill took hold of his brother’s shoulders from behind, in a gesture that seemed to be both holding him back and expressing support. 

Charles’s eyes -- the same color and shape as Carewyn’s, but infinitely crueler -- flashed up at Bill.

“I can tell that you -- like me -- are the sort of man who wishes to protect his family, Bill Weasley,” Charles said coldly. “If you wish to do so...then you will ensure that neither you nor your family comes near mine again. Do I make myself clear?”

Bill and Charles glared at each other for a very long moment, silently burning brown on icy, diamond-like blue. 

“Crystal,” Bill murmured at last. 

Charlie looked up at Bill, horrified. “Bill -- ”

“Come on, Charlie,” Bill cut him off quietly. “Let’s go.”

Bill steered Charlie away and off of the Cromwell estate. Once they’d cleared the gate, Charlie whirled on his brother.

“Bill, you can’t be okay with this! If old Lord Cromwell won’t let us see Carey, then something’s gotta be wrong! We can’t just -- ”

“I know,” said Bill.

Glancing over his shoulder, he walked with Charlie a few more feet to make sure they were out of earshot. Then he said quietly, 

“Charlie...make up an excuse for the King and Queen about why their carriage is going to need more time to fix than you thought. We’re going to need it.”

[boymeetsparadise]

masterlist

contains and mentions: female reader x jung hoseok/ female reader x kim taehyung.

>language, break ups, angst, anxiety, brief mention of a loved one’s passing, alcohol, children. exes to strangers au, (please let me know if i missed anything)

Word count: 2k

an: i had the sad music playing, its one of those moments.. this came to mind and hopefully you all enjoy! angsty hobi? tragic but sign me up! (◠‿◠)

listened to while writting: 2 soon - keshi

A weary sigh left your lips as you toed off your shoes, a soft nudge to close off the door as your hair fell down your back from having been up all day. A late night at work and you finally had the weekend to look forward to, it dawned that your energy wasn’t the same as before. You worked from home most of the time unless it was a big project or a mistake had been made, then you’d spend hours away from home. Rare but dreaded. 

The small apartment was quiet as the soft patting of your tired feet on the wooden floors brought back life. Bag set on the dining table, you looked over into the kitchen as the under cabinet stove hood glowed into the dark home, leftovers waiting. You opted to eat it at room temperature, trying to keep the silence aside from the soft drags of cutlery.  Washing dishes could wait until the morning as you made sure the windows were properly locked around your home. 

The soft thuds of clothes hit the floor before you let out another sigh. Arms around yourself, massaging your sore neck before changing and letting the soft, cool material of your pajamas welcome you even further. Doors and wooden floor panels softly creaked before you slid into bed, another sigh as you stared at the ceiling, dinner finally settling. You reached over to your phone on the nightstand, mindlessly scrolling through your social media. Looks like a high school acquaintance got married, double-tap, and type out a quick congratulations with excessive emojis. Your cousin posted a selfie and she looks breathtaking, double-tap, and comment that you miss her. You continued for a few more posts, catching up on the people around you. A tired yawn and you were giving in to sleep. A small stretch and click of the phone, you turned over, a small smile on your lips. 

Only a couple minutes in before your eyes shot right open. Your phone was on low volume but the vibrations had it motoring across the small table. Probably a late-night telemarketer as you couldn’t quite recognize the phone number. A spam risk? You pressed the accept button, whispers ready. 

“Hello?” There was a small gasp.

“[Y/n]” and then a small sigh of relief.

You sat up in bed immediately, shock and confusion written all over your face.

“Hoseok?” You whispered, questioning whether or not it was really the voice. 

“Yes!” He sighed, “It’s me..” He bit his bottom lip as his index finger mindlessly circles the finish of the glass bottle. To him, it felt so good to hear your voice again and he thanked his angels above for remembering your number. 

You sat up in bed, wide awake with a sudden pang in your heart. Silence followed as you tried to find the words to say. There wasn’t any- so serious yet awkward as it used to be so easy to talk to one another.

“Long time huh?” Hoseok let out a nervous chuckle as he adjusted his phone. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been..” You paused, and quickly pulled away to glance at the time, what was going on? “It’s two a.m, why?” 

“It’s late I know. But I just had to call. I had to just hear your voice again.” He pleaded. You rolled your eyes, he wouldn’t know that though. 

“But why?”

“Can’t I just call to catch up?” He played casually.

“No.” You snapped at his attempt as your mind began to wander at his intentions. 

“I couldn’t sleep. I thought I should call you.” He confessed.

“It’s been-”

“I know how long it’s been.” He cut you off. “But you were always the best remedy.” 

You sighed, his words sending another chill down your spine.

“I tried to hard to find your number, I thought you would’ve changed it.” Silence. “Relieved that I’m not blocked.” He tried to chuckle but failed awkwardly. You don’t tell him that you just unblocked his number about a year ago because the missing contact name confused you. 

“Let’s just talk.” He licked his lips, adjusting in his seat. “How are you? How’s your dad?” He tried, hands shaky. 

“He passed last November.” You deadpanned.

“Oh…” Hoseok felt a wave of guilt. “I’m sorry.”

“I am too.” You’ve missed a lot Jung Hoseok.

Another moment of silence followed. 

“...Cut to the chase Hoseok” You ran your free hand through your hair again, looking over your shoulder, “Why’d you call?”

“I think you know why [Y/n]..”

“ I don’t know anymore.” You paused. “You don’t call someone up at two am after you haven’t been able to do so for over three years.” 

“I’ve missed you. And I’ve realized how much of an idiot I am.” He played with the bottle some more.

“You had three years Hoseok.” You stared off into the distance of your dimly lit room, the moon shining in through a small crack in the curtains. 

“And I regret not calling sooner.” He let his head fall, tears burning his eyes.

“Have you been drinking Hoseok?” 

“Would that matter?” He cocked a brow.

“Considering you could never be honest with me when sober, yes.” For a moment you felt like you had gone back in time, a younger you picking up the phone because she had yet another fight with her boyfriend and he called to apologize like always. At three am as his lips slurred the truths he wished he would say while sober, but you knew that already.

You’d believe every word and then he would stumble to your place, pebbles at your window before you let him in, embracing each other as you sat on your roof, looking at the sky.

“I’ve changed.” He rubbed his eyes, drunk sincerity in every word he spoke. “So much.” He sighed. “And I’ll never be sorry enough on that it took me so long to do so.”

“It shouldn’t have taken years.” You shook your head. “I’m sorry but I don’t see the point in tonight’s-”

“Can I come see you?” His voice was shaky. “Just this once, please? I have so much I want to say.” Another desperate sigh, “And I want to do this face to face.”

“Hobi-” You shuttered from letting his old nickname slip.

“You still stay in the same place right? I’ll be there in 15.” He downed a prepared shot, eyes wandering for his jacket- ready to head out. You took a deep breath, a soft cry could be heard across the hall.

“Hoseok stop.” You swung your legs off the edge of the bed, the anxiety making you fidget. 

“Let me stay the night. I’ll leave in the morning, I swear.”  He tried to convince you and himself, his mind blocking out sounds that weren’t you. “Just let me be in the same space as you. Please?”

“You had time Hoseok.” Pity in your tone, you continued, “You won’t remember this in the morning.” Too distracted to feel the movement on the other side.

“I can come by in the morning if I can’t right now... How does nine am sound?” He bit the inside of his cheek, avoiding your pleads. “Would that be fine?’

“Listen-” 

 “I can pick up your favorite muffins and we can talk over some coffee-” Hoseok tried.

“Hoseok.” You repeated, tears ready to slip at any moment as he heard the crack in your voice, his heart breaking with it. 

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you. Trust me I tried so hard to forget. To move on. But I couldn’t. I can’t.” Another heavy sigh. 

“Stop it.”

“Just a bit of time, please. I know it isn’t fair of me to ask this of you. I’ll always be that selfish but I can’t help it. I have to ask for more. I’m sorry.”

“You missed so much. I’ve-”

“Please. At least let me see you for the last time.”

“Three years.” You reminded him, it hurt so bad. 

“I know.”

Another silence. Memories of you two flashed in your mind. Moments of joy and love now hurt so much, pushed away to the depths of your mind, buried underneath new ones.

“I have to go.” 

“Please don’t hang up.” His voice broke.

“I have to. Please don’t call again.”

“I’ll call every day. I’m serious.” He spoke, his free hand rubbing at his burning eyes. “I want another try at us. I’m tired of the games I played. I’ve changed and I’ll prove that [Y/n].”

“Don’t do this.”

“Don’t you love me anymore?” Hoseok’s vision went blurry. “It doesn’t matter how long it’s been, true love will always come back to one another.” He tried to reason as the grip on his phone tightened.

“I don’t love you anymore.” You jumped right in, cutting him off from rambling any further, teeth clenched. “Don’t start spewing your bullshit when you’re the one who walked out on me Hoseok. We could’ve had it all but you fucked up. I got tired of waiting and hoping. Obviously this isn’t true love if it took you this long to realize. I found my happiness Hoseok.” 

You were bitter. Fed up. You sat, heavy breathing, the man who once gave you butterflies was now asking for pity and forgiveness as if that wasn’t a constant in your time together.

“You don’t mean that.” Hoseok pleaded. “Please.”

“I do and you’re drunk Hoseok. Bye.”

“[Y/n]-” 

“You’ll find someone one day, and you’ll thank me for this.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you pulled the phone away. 

Hoseok’s lip started to quiver, his calls were always enough and now you were here ready to hang it up for good. 

“Baby?” 

Hoseok raised his brows, eyes wide with confusion. Was there someone with you? Should he hang up? 

“Sorry love, I tried my best to put them back down to bed but I think someone misses their mommy.” Your lover pouted as he made his way over to you. He avoided mentioning he’s been awake since he heard you come home, the muffles of the other line peaking his interest.

Hoseok let his tears fall like an overflowing sink. He recognized that voice. The voice of someone he once considered an old friend, now calling you baby. Did you have a child?

“It’s fine.” You took your head with a slight grin, taking the infant in your arms as he sat down next to you. The smalls cries halted as they recognized your motherly scent. “Why hello little one.” You coo’ed, finger softly stroking the tiny plump cheek.

“Did you miss me?” Your face lit up with joy as the tiny infant stared back at you, mouth round as they let out soft coos.

“Wow that’s so interesting, tell me more!’ You smiled as Taehyung sat right next to you stretching to see the interaction between you and his child, heart bursting.

Hoseok listened to the entire conversation, a pain in his chest. Your voice full of love and excitement. You meant what you said. You had found your happiness. 

Taehyung looked over to your phone, forgotten on the bed, the screen lighting up momentarily- Hoseok hung up. He sighed, relief washing over him. Hopefully- he heard everything. “I’m so proud of you.” He softly spoke against your temple, inhaling your perfume and leaving a small kiss. 

“For what?” You knitted your brows before looking back at the child in your arms.

“Everything you do.” He smiled, not ready to admit to his eavesdropping. “You amaze me every day. You’re so strong and such an excellent friend, lover, mother, human being. I love you and our little family.” His eyes now teary as he looked down at your ring finger- the diamond still shining even in the dark. “I just think I should remind you any chance I get.” He shyly smiled before looking away. 

Heat spread across your cheeks as you stared at him for a good moment, taking in his appearance. His honey toned skin looked absolutely mesmerizing in the moonlight as his dark waves bounced with every movement. His hand came up to stoke your child’s hair before they enveloped his thumb in their small hand. The small interaction had you bursting at the seams. 

“I love you too.” You smiled before giving him a soft kiss, a smile on your face  now focused on the child before you. A very heavy sigh you didn’t even know you were holding escaped, happiness was this very moment.

“She...” [name] stared off into space, struggling for word, bringing the bottle to his lips. “How could he do this? ” He threw his head back, taking a swig. His best friend and the love of his life. The word ‘mommy’ rang through his head. 

She was right, a lot can happen in three years and he had just realized how long that time really was. He bit down on his lip, drawing blood. He hated himself completely as the bottle rested on his lips, another swig as it burned the fresh punctures. 

Silence filled the messy room, bottles and cigarette buds littered the floor as he looked through his photo gallery, fresh tears landing on an old photo he took of you. You both changed and this time the roads didn't cross. His phone calls always set everything right. He promised himself to call again one day. 

 “I may hate this now but I hope I find what you have [y/n]. Then maybe I’ll thank you.”

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 43 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Hola muffins! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Adore threw a tantrum, but it may have been justified.

This Chapter: Bianca has some ‘splainin to do, Courtney plays pretend, Violet gets some exciting news, and Fame has a workplace scare.

***

The first thing Bianca did when she got home on Friday was kick off her stilettos, giving her poor feet a break after the long week. The second thing she did was feed the dogs, her beloved chihuahuas jumping around like crazy while she filled their bowls and freshened up their water dishes. And the third thing? She emptied almost a full bottle of Cabernet into a wine glass, carrying it upstairs to her room.

She opened the door, flipped on the lights, and that’s when she nearly had a heart attack.

Adore, who was on the sofa in her bedroom sitting area, had apparently been waiting for her in the dark.

“Jesus fucking christ!” Bianca said, clutching her chest, a wine stain already spreading on her area rug where she’d spilled in fear.

“Hello Bianca.”

“What the fuck are you doing sitting here in the dark, you psychopath?” Bianca crouched down, examining the stain. “Fuck.”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Normal people use a phone!” Bianca sighed, standing back up. “This rug is destroyed, by the way.”

Bianca pointed, doing her best not to spill again, the thought of having to make arrangements with a decorator already putting her on edge, but she guessed she’d just have Joslyn take care of it.

“Thank you for that.” Bianca shook her head, sitting down in the armchair across from Adore. “So, what’s going on?”

“I thought,” said Adore, “that you didn’t have any secrets from me.”

She looked wounded, like a child, and Bianca groaned internally. This had to be about Pearl.

“I don’t, pussycat.” Bianca set her wine down and leaned forward. “I’m an open book for you.”

It was true. There were things Adore knew that Bianca would never tell another soul--and vice versa. Bianca would never, for the life of her, lie to Adore. On the other hand, there were things that she just didn’t feel right bringing up.

“Oh yeah? Then why didn’t you tell me about Fame and Pearl? Huh?” Adore accused.

There it was.

“That wasn’t my secret to tell,” Bianca offered, hoping that Adore would believe her. She wouldn’t have lied, not if she was asked a direct question, but why open up a can or worms if she didn’t have to? Why risk hurting Adore, why betray Fame’s trust, all for this ill-fated, hopefully short-lived relationship with Pearl fucking Liaison?

“Bullshit!”

“Adore…”

“No, I don’t understand. Because you say you love me, you want to protect me, but you lied to me, you lied, for months, and-”

“I didn’t lie, I just didn’t tell you-”

“I’m gonna strangle you right now, bitch,” Adore said, seething with anger. “You fucking lied!”

The semantics argument would never work--Bianca could see that. So instead, she sighed, rubbing her temples, and changed tactics entirely. “Would it have made a difference?” she asked.

“Huh?”

“If I had told you everything. Broken Fame’s trust, told you all about everything I knew. Would it have changed the way you felt about Pearl? Would it have stopped you from liking her?”

Bianca knew her sister, knew that Adore would most likely have dug in her heels and wanted Pearl even more if a pseudo-parent figure had sat her down and tried to explain all the reasons why she was a terrible choice. If it was guaranteed to stop Adore from getting hurt, Bianca would probably have told her and risked Fame’s wrath.

“Well…” Adore paused, considering the question. “Probably not, but-”

“Well, there you go.” Bianca picked up her glass again and took a large sip. In all honesty, she felt a lot better that it had come out, especially without her having to be the one to tell. Maybe now, Adore would start to see Pearl for who she truly was.

“B…”

“Yes?”

Adore’s lip quivered, eyes shining with tears, and Bianca knew that she’d cave. She always did.

She moved to the sofa, wrapping Adore into her arms, her younger sister curling into her lap the way she used to, even if it was a bit ridiculous now, considering that Adore was so much taller than her.

“I’m sorry, baby girl,” she murmured into Adore’s hair as she rocked her.

“I need to trust you, B,” Adore cried, clinging to her. “I thought you were the one person who would always be honest with me.”

Bianca brushed her tears away, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I know. I’m sorry.”

Adore sniffled, nodding.

“What can I do to make it up to you? Hmm?”

“Can Pearl come to Thanksgiving?” Adore asked, perking up a little. The little rat seemed to have that answer ready awfully quickly.

“Ughh, Adore, you’re still with her?”

“Yes! She’s not the one who lied to me. She assumed I knew all along,” Adore said. “And besides, some of us are mature enough to handle real relationships.”

“Ouch.”

“Sorry. But…” Adore shrugged, “When’s the last time you dated someone longer than a month?”

“Fine. Pearl can come to Thanksgiving,” Bianca said. Anything to avoid the dreaded ‘why don’t you ever commit?’ conversation.

Adore’s face broke into a happy grin, throwing her arms back around Bianca’s neck.

“Thank you, B! I always knew you were my favorite sister.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah…”

***

Pearl was humming along to the music in her headphones as she made her way towards the laundry room, basket under her arms. Normally, Katya was the one who washed everyone's clothes, even taking Pearl’s too, but this weekend, Trixie had taken her to Coney Island, and Pearl was nothing if not a good roomie.

At least when it suited her.

Pearl pushed the door open, fully expecting the basement to be devoid of anyone she knew, but instead of bumping into some random neighbor, she saw Violet bent over and pulling her clothes out of the washer.

Pearl smirked, leaning against the doorframe for a minute to watch Violet stretch, her ass absolutely delicious in the tight yoga pants she was wearing. Violet stood back up, still not noticing Pearl, and while Pearl didn’t mind peeking, she didn’t want to upset the truce between her and Violet, so she coughed, causing Violet to turn around.

“Oh.” Violet looked genuinely surprised, her hands filled with workout clothes. “Hi Pearl, I didn’t-” Violet paused, looking at the basket under Pearl’s arm.. “... Are you washing clothes?”

“Yes?” Pearl smirked, “Did you think I didn’t?”

“Honestly? I did… Think you didn’t?” Violet bit her lip, tilting her head. “I’ve never imagined you doing chores, ever.”

“Good to hear that you’re thinking about me, Chachki.” Pearl grinned, satisfaction curling up her spine.

“Sure.” Violet snorted, moving aside so there was room for Pearl to walk into the small room.

“A girl can dream.”

“Don’t get too full of yourself.” Violet smiled, pouring her own clothes into the dryer. “It doesn’t suit you.”

“I think you think it suits me fine.” Pearl wiggled her brows. She knew that she probably shouldn’t be flirting with Violet, but it was impossible not to,  least of all when it was so fun.

“Whatever.” Violet rolled her eyes, but she still looked amused. She started the dryer, but didn’t make a move to leave, Pearl noticing that she had a thermos and a stack of magazines, Violet grabbing one of them.

“My my Vivi,” Pearl closed the lid on the washer. “Planning to sit on the dryer?”

“What? No, ew, Pearl!” Violet slapped her on the shoulder with the magazine. “Shut up!”

“You can’t make me.” Pearl grinned, getting up and leaning against the small table Violet had put her setup out on. “So what are we reading?”

***

“Tati!” Courtney called out, waving to get her friend’s attention in the crowded Port Authority bus terminal. They’d both realized how much they missed each other at the Halloween party, with Courtney working crazy hours and living all the way up in the Bronx, and Tatianna staying with her cousins in New Jersey.

The truth was that  Courtney had felt a bit disconnected from all of her friends recently. She still managed to at least text with Adore every day, but it was hard to keep up with everyone else--something she was determined to fix.

The girls hugged fiercely, then headed out, towards the cute brunch spot that Ivy had recommended. Courtney noticed right away that Tatianna seemed a bit reserved, not all all like her usual bubbly self.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, squeezing her friend’s hand as they waited for the light to change.

“Yeah. Yeah, it’s been alright. I’m just getting a little bit frustrated with the whole modeling thing. I still haven’t found a decent agent, and all I keep on getting are these cattle calls. I just...ugh, sometimes I wonder if it’s all just a mistake.” She heaved a sigh, shoulders slumped, face dejected.

Courtney knew exactly how she felt. She’d gone through the exact same thing when she moved to New York, trying desperately to go on as many auditions as possible. It was so disheartening to feel invisible. But she knew that Tati would make it--she was so beautiful, one of the prettiest girls Courtney had ever known, and the photos Courtney had seen were amazing.

“Don’t give up. I know it’s hard, but...I really think you’re gonna get a break soon.”

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. And actually… Well, I don’t know what their casting process is, but I’ve gotten really friendly with the head of our makeup department. Maybe I can give her your photos?”

“Are you kidding? That would be the best fucking thing ever!” Tati exclaimed, beaming at her.

Courtney smiled, hoping that she wasn’t over-promising, but thrilled that she seemed to have turned her friend’s mood around.

“That’s honestly so cool though, even if they don’t use me. You’re really making friends in high places!”

“Yeah,” Courtney said, a dry chuckle slipping from her lips. “Actually, there’s a show coming up in a few weeks too, like this private thing at the showroom for the holiday collection. I could try slipping you into the casting pile for that too. Raja is in charge of that and her assistant is super nice.”

“You’re such a fucking goddess, thank you!” Tati said.

“Anytime.”

“So then, are things going better at work? I mean, you’re liking it more?”

“Ummm…” Courtney sighed.

“Uh oh. That doesn’t sound good.”

She really tried to be positive about work. She tried to keep a good attitude, tried not to cringe in fear every time her work phone buzzed after hours. But sometimes, like on a Sunday afternoon when she just wanted to enjoy brunch with her friend but couldn’t keep the racing thoughts about everything she’d have to do in the coming week from intruding—sometimes it was hard. She hadn’t confessed this to her friends yet, for fear of it getting back to Adore. She just didn’t want to seem like she was ungrateful for the opportunity. But something told her that she could trust Tati.

“Well...it’s just...it’s really stressful. All the time, and I keep thinking that it’ll get easier, you know? But instead there’s just more and more and the hours are always long and even when I’m supposed to be sleeping, I’m always thinking about work or worried that I forgot something. Plus, I don’t think Miss Fame likes me very much and it’s just…”

“Shitty?”

“Yeah,” Courtney exhaled, surprised at how much of a relief it felt to unburden herself. “Sometimes I feel like...I’m barely holding on. It’s like I can’t...find the solid ground, you know?”

Tati nodded solemnly, stopping mid stride to turn and give Courtney a big, comforting hug. Then, she suddenly grasped her by the shoulders, a sly smile on her face as she said, “I know what you need!”

Courtney laughed, curiosity distracting her from her troubles as Tati dragged her down the block, right into a high-end boutique filled with clothes that they could never afford in a million years. In that moment, Courtney knew exactly what she was up to--a perfectly ridiculous game they started last year when the stress of school was getting overwhelming.

She had to bite her cheek to keep from laughing when Tatianna found a sales clerk and “introduced” herself.

“Helloooo!” she crooned in a terrible British accent, sticking out her hand as if the woman should kiss it. “Tatianna Buckingham, Duchess of Hamptonshire, pleasure to meet you. This is my friend, Courtney Vanderbilt-Rockefeller, and we need gowns for a gala next week.”

The sales girl smiled patiently, asking them if they wanted some champagne.

“Sounds lovely, darling. Thanks ever so.”

The moment the clerk walked away, Courtney began laughing, whispering, “She totally knew you were lying.”

“So?” Tati challenged. “Maybe she likes to play, too.”

“Maybe,” Courtney giggled, pawing through a rack of floor-length beaded gowns. “Ooh, Tati dahhhling, this turquoise one would look positively diviiine on you!”

“I don’t know about that one, I was planning to wear the rubies and it might clash.”

“Then wear the diamonds, love!”

“Great idea! Alright, let’s try it on!”

The clerk returned with champagne, and Tati held out her glass for a toast, her arms already full of clothes to try on.

“To solid ground,” she said solemnly, and Courtney toasted her back enthusiastically.

“Cheers!”

They spent nearly an hour in the store, trying on gowns, resort wear and pristinely tailored ensembles, taking turns styling each other and then strutting around the dressing room as if it was a Paris runway. The whole thing was silly and fun and made Courtney feel like she used to: young and happy and free.

When they finally left the store to head to brunch, Courtney couldn’t help pull her friend in for a hug, whispering, “Thank you,” into her hair.

“Anytime, buttercup,” Tati told her, pressing a kiss to her temple.

***

“It’s here!” cried Kandy, and a murmur went through the whole design floor, everyone reaching for their respective tablets.

It had been almost an hour since the department head meeting ended, Trixie informing them all that Miss Fame’s office would be sending the team the final prêt-à-porter sketches that had gone to tailoring for production.

Of course Courtney would be slower than death, but Violet had still spent the whole 30 minutes constantly refreshing her email. She knew it was petty considering the number of people that were trying for it, but she really really wanted that jacket spot and she had a few other looks she thought were promising as well.

One, a breezy dress that could be dressed up or down depending on styling, and a top with beautiful sleeve detailing. But the jacket...if the jacket was chosen, then it boded very well for her chance of getting the opening or closing couture look, since the dress she was currently working on used some of the same techniques.

It was probably a pipe dream to even hope for a spot like that, being the newest designer, but Violet was going to give it her best shot.

Violet clicked on the attachment, lip between her teeth as she carefully looked through, doing her best not to skip anything.

The first sketch of hers that she recognized was a skirt, one of the simpler submissions that she hadn’t even felt 100% about, but it fit in with the casual separates. The dress that she liked was in there too--with a note to lengthen the hemline. She wrinkled her nose, hoping that the extra fabric wouldn’t make the skirt look dowdy.

Then, she found it on page 38 among the other outwear--her jacket.

She grinned happily to herself, beyond pleased and excited to have this major success under her belt and more determined than ever to perfect her couture submission.

***

“Courtney! I need the tailoring budgets now!”

Fame shrugged her coat off as she walked into her office, taking her coat and letting it fall, trusting her assistant to catch it before it touched the ground. Fame had just finished her weekly yoga and therapy, talking with her therapist over the phone while stretching out. She didn’t like the therapy, hated doing it actually, but she couldn’t discredit the fact that it did make her feel slightly less anxious to unload on someone once a week.

“Have you talked to Shangela yet?” Fame looked at Courtney, her assistant holding the budget out for her. “I want-” Fame paused, realizing that this was the first time in weeks that she had actually looked at Courtney, the pastel pink no longer in the blonde hair.

Or rather, in what used to be blonde.

“What’s that?” On top of Courtney’s head, was the most disgusting half inch of severely neglected roots, the hair making Courtney’s entire appearance look cheap and tawdry. “Where do you get your hair done?”

Courtney’s hand flew to her hair, covering up the roots as the color drained for her face.

“I do it myself. I’m sorry, I know I need to touch up-”

“Yourself?” Fame tried to remember if she had ever had to reprimand Violet like this, Courtney looking like an absolute disaster. “And how do you think your current hairstyle reflects on the company? And most importantly me?”

“Um...well, I-” Courtney bit her lip, and Fame sighed internally.

For the most part, Courtney had been doing alright. For one thing, she was no longer skipping around the place like a child, and seemed to be taking her job seriously, at least. But in spite of her meager progress, she still had so much to learn. Drug store dye? Did she think this was a strip club instead of a top tier fashion house?

“Remember. Only perfection is acceptable.” Fame said, her tone clipped and pointed as she strode into her office, then turned around and proclaimed, “That’s all,” finally shutting the door in Courtney’s face.

***

Sutan was sitting at his desk at work, a smile on his face as he was reading the email that had just ticked in from Violet.

Normally, it was nearly impossible to get a hold of the woman during work hours, the task even harder now that she didn’t have a work phone anymore, but judging from the excitement that radiated from her email, Violet had been unable to wait until she was off the clock to tell him that she had gotten not one, not two, but three pieces into the prêt-à-porter collection.

Sutan was just about to email her back with congratulations, his mind already racing with how they should celebrate, when he heard a tap on his door.

He was one of the only agents who had an always open door policy, his models and coworkers always welcome, Sutan more often than not getting visits from models that didn’t even belong to him when there was trouble on the horizon, girls coming by to share their frustrations or worries with someone who listened.

Today, however, it wasn’t a model who had shown up at his door.

“Oh,” Sutan smiled. “Tamisha, hello.”

Tamisha Iman was the current CEO of Elite Model with over 30 years of experience in the business. She looked gorgeous as always, her skin perfection even though she was in her mid 50s. She was wearing a red pant suit, her brown hair perfectly styled.

“What can I help you with?”

“Do you have five?”

“Of course.” Sutan raised an eyebrow as Tamisha stepped inside, closing the door behind her. It was years since Tamisha had last been upset with him, and even though she was a firm but fair boss, you never really knew. “Anything wrong?”

“Can I bum a cigarette? I just had the most terrible meeting with the L.A. office-”

“Ah.” Sutan smiled, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his stomach. “And who says I smoke?”

“Oh please,” Tamisha rolled her eyes. “I know you got the goods Amrull.”

“I thought you quit last year?”

“Don’t care.”

“Ouch.” Sutan laughed, opening the bottom drawer and pulling out the packets of cigarettes he always kept there. “I only have Camels.”

“That’s fine.” Tamisha had already walked over to his window, opening it and hiking up her skirt to crawl out onto his fire escape. “Are you coming?”

“Course boss.” Sutan smiled as he grabbed his lighter, listening to one of the few people he considered a friend bitch not the worst way to spend an afternoon.

***

Pearl climbed the stairs from the subway, she and Trixie having a rare weekday dinner without Katya since she was busy with parent-teacher conferences, so they’d opted for their favorite dim sum place downtown. As they began walking up the block, Pearl stopped short, her eyes opening wide.

“Oh my god…”

“What?” Trixie asked.

The whole time Pearl was speaking to Dahlia at Adore’s last gig, she was certain that she’d seen the dark-haired beauty somewhere before. Now, looking at the giant XXX LIVE NUDE GIRLS XXX sign, she finally figured it out. She used to use the seedy strip club as a meeting place, whenever she was trying to get info from a straight guy. Granted, that didn’t happen terribly often in the fashion industry, which was probably why she hadn’t thought of it. But as soon as she saw that sign, she knew. Dahlia worked there. Pearl could picture her clear as day, in nothing but a tiny little thong, chest glistening with glitter.

“That strip club,” Pearl said. “Let’s go in!”

“What?” Trixie sputtered a laugh.

“For a drink! Real quick…”

“No way bro, not on your life.”

“Come on!” Pearl begged, reasoning, “Katya wouldn’t care, she’d probably think it was funny.”

“Maybe so, but I’m not interested,” Trixie told her firmly.

“Please, Trix? There’s a girl there that is just like...so fucking hot. I just want to see if she’s working tonight.”

“I’m not interested in helping you cheat on your girlfriend with a stripper, either.” Trixie looked absolutely disgusted with her. He was really the worst wingman in the world.

“It wouldn’t be cheating! We talked about it and agreed that we should be open.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah!” Pearl grinned, spreading her arms. “I’m living the dream.”

Trixie snorted and shook his head. “If you say so.”

“So will you come inside?”

“Still no.”

Pearl sighed, continued to follow him up the street to the dim sum place, all the while entertaining herself with images of what Dahlia looked like on stage… Her tall, luscious body wrapped in silky lingerie. The subtle scent of her perfume lingering even as she walked away, swaying her perfect hips.

***

The scent of spices was filling Sutan’s kitchen, music playing while he chopped up the last of the chili, humming to himself as he rocked back and forth to the music, a glass of wine getting picked up once in a while.

“What are we listening to?”

Violet was sitting at the table, filing her nails and drinking her own glass of wine as she watched Sutan, but most importantly his ass in those jeans, cooking dinner.

“What?” Sutan looked over his shoulder. “Are you seriously asking that? It’s the Temptations? They’re the only band from the 60s that matters.”

“Really?” Violet looked at Sutan, actually a little surprised at how passionate he seemed to be about music. If Violet was being totally honest, she always preferred instrumentals, vocals often only distracting.

“Yes, really?” Sutan huffed, “Youth these days.”

“I’m sorry,” Violet laughed, the man sounding genuinely offended.

“You better be.” Sutan smiled, tipping the last of the chili into the pan. “Or I might not give you your present.”

“My present?”

“Yes.” Sutan wiped his hands on the tea towel. “Watch the stove, would you?”

Violet was about to protest, but Sutan had already walked off. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was supposed to watch, the pasta dish Sutan was whipping together way above her level of cooking skills.

“Here we go.” Sutan walked back into the kitchen, holding a white box, a white ribbon wrapped around it, the word Dior printed on it in gold.

“Is-” Viole stood up, suddenly feeling boiling hot and overwhelmed. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Well,” Sutan grinned, putting the box down on the table in front of her. “Depends on what you think it is?”

“Sutan, I-” Violet didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to think.

“Come on,” Sutan gave her a gentle push with his elbow.

“Are you serious?”

“Open it.”

Violet's hands were shaking as she reached for the ribbon and opened the box. Violet pulled the white paper away, her fingers making contact with the soft purple leather. Her hand flew to her mouth, covering it as she looked into the box, completely overwhelmed before she snapped to Sutan, a look of surprise and confusion on her face.

“Congrats on your designs being picked, lovely eyes.” Sutan smiled. “After getting a good look at your bag at the park the other day,” He raised an eyebrow, Violet remembering that she had shown it in his arms when she had spotted the pug. “I figured you needed a new one.”

“Oh my God, oh God.” Violet could feel the tears gathering in her eyes; she didn’t want to cry, but she was simply so overwhelmed.

Sutan always paid for their meals and their dates, refusing even the sight of Violet’s credit card, but it had never been anything like this before, never a gift that so obviously said, ‘I’m your boyfriend and I care about you.’

“Don’t cry darling,” Violet felt Sutan’s arms around her, pulling her against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “Take a look at it.”

Violet nodded, crying as she pulled the Dior Diorissimo in the most gorgeous pale purple leather out of the box.

“A cool designer bag for my cool designer girlfriend.” Sutan grinned, pressing yet another kiss against Violet’s hair. “Hopefully, it’ll be able to withstand the abuse of all the things you insist on lugging around.”

“This is,” Violet didn’t know what to say. “I-” She turned her head, looking up at Sutan. “Thank you. This is… Thank you. I love it.”

[imgoingtocrash]

knowing (of everything she doesn’t)

Chapters: 1/1

Rating: G

Word Count: 9,097

Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark, Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Morgan Stark & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & Michelle Jones, Happy Hogan & Peter Parker

Summary:

“Mister Stark means a lot to me, M,” Peter says firmly, effectively ending the discussion.

“I know,” she answers, squeezing his hand where it rests over the cupholder between them.

Looking out the window, what she thinks to herself is: do you mean that much to him?

Maybe it’s overprotective or presumptuous of her—she’s only known Peter well for a couple of years and has been dating him for less than one.

It’s just—in all that time, in all of the stories of his alter-ego’s exploits that he’s finally shared…she just can’t see how the universe-saving multibillionaire fits into all of this.

MJ joins Peter for a Thanksgiving visit to the Starks' lake house. It turns out that even after years of quiet observation and a few months of dating, there are still things about Peter Parker and his life that manage to surprise her.

Read on AO3

My gift for @peter-stank for @friendly-neighborhood-exchange!!! Happy belated Birthday, Beedee, and thank you so much for your amazing contributions to the fandom. Hopefully you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. <3 (Fic also under the cut, as requested by the exchange/until reveal.)

They’re an hour into a two and a half hour drive when Michelle decides to drop the question.

“Isn’t it weird?” MJ asks. “Casually being invited to your boss’s house for Thanksgiving?”

Peter shrugs, but she can see the way his shoulders tense underneath his hoodie when he answers, “Maybe. Before.”

Before doesn’t need to be clarified. The Blip.

“Besides, he makes a mean turkey stuffing. I promise, that’s worth it,” Peter attempts to deflect, the barest hint of a smile directed her way.

But Michelle has never been good at leaving well enough alone. She asks too many questions, sometimes makes people uncomfortable. It’s how she got good at academic decathlon and how she (mostly) figured out Peter was Spider-Man.

“What changed?”

“Hm?”

“The Blip was traumatic for everyone in one way or another. Why did it change things with Tony?” She never refers to him as Mister Stark despite Peter rarely ever calling his mentor anything else.

“It just…did.” Peter shrugs again, eyes determinately focused on the road ahead and far away from her. “He lost me, I almost lost him, it sucked. That’s all.”

“Okay, but—“ It just doesn’t make sense to her that he was an intern at SI or a superhero colleague or whatever, and somehow it added up to…whatever this is. Schlepping up to the Catskills in Peter’s hand-me-down Toyota for a few days at the Starks’ cabin. Like, that’s just a thing that Peter has been invited to do, and he doesn’t think anything of it.

“Mister Stark means a lot to me, M,” Peter says firmly, effectively ending the discussion.

“I know,” she answers, squeezing his hand where it rests over the cupholder between them.

Looking out the window, what she thinks to herself is: do you mean that much to him?

Maybe it’s overprotective or presumptuous of her—she’s only known Peter well for a couple of years and has been dating him for less than one.

It’s just—in all that time, in all of the stories of his alter-ego’s exploits that he’s finally shared…she just can’t see how the universe-saving multibillionaire fits into all of this.

They arrive at the lake house just as the sun’s setting, the orange hues reflecting across the water.

A loud thwack breaks the relative silence that’s formed by the car’s engine turning off.

“Petey!” shrieks the high pitched little voice that accompanies a little blur of movement out of the house.

Peter’s already unbuckling his seatbelt, a smile blown wide across his face. He kicks the door open—used to the way it sometimes sticks—and just barely misses hitting the brown-haired little girl that can only be Morgan Stark in her precious little head.

“Morgie!” Peter shouts in a parrot of her tone, not bothering to shut the door behind him before he picks up the five-year-old girl, spinning them both around in circles while she screams with laughter.

“’S so good to see you,” Peter says, pressing sloppy kisses to Morgan’s cheeks. “Did you miss me?”

“Yeah! Daddy said you were coming for a whole week this time, and I have a whole list of movies that you have to watch with me, and—“

Morgan trails on, but MJ is watching Peter—his attention is zeroed in on the girl in his arms, his megawatt grin on full display. He’s comfortable with her. She called him Petey—a nickname she knows is usually reserved only for May. She knew Peter was close with Morgan, but she’d always assumed it was in that way she sees her younger cousins every holiday and they think she’s the coolest person in the world for exactly eight hours, and then they don’t see or speak to each other again until the next family event, rinse and repeat.

The girl stops herself, moving her eyes directly to MJ and locking on. She’s always kind of hated that about little kids—they look into your soul and just kind of know things.

“Who’s that?” Morgan asks, more firmly wrapping her arms around Peter, as if to protect him.

(The only danger Peter’s been in from MJ in the last three hours was during their argument about road trip playlists. Particularly, Peter’s memetic gag of repeating What’s New Pussycat? on the same playlist multiple times and thinking she wouldn’t stop it before the first It’s Not Unusual.)

Michelle decides to get out of the car and introduce herself instead of awkwardly staring through the open door. It’s a bit of a chore—the passenger door’s handle is finicky—but she gets out without landing her ass in the mud and considers it a win. She still wipes her hands on her pants as she rounds the car, trying to remove any weird, nervous sweat. She’s not worried about it. She’s fine.

“I’m, um. Michelle,” she states, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Hi. Nice to meet you.”

Morgan’s head quirks to the side, looking Michelle up and down before she screams, “Daddy, Petey brought some weird stranger to Thanksgiving!” directly into Peter’s ear.

“Ow,” he hisses, rubbing at his earlobe. “Morgan, that’s not cool, MJ is—“

Morgan doesn’t let Peter finish, sticking out her tongue and wriggling out of Peter’s arms, running off towards the house as fast as she came out of it.

Tony Stark himself opens the screen door of the cabin next, chuckling as his daughter weaves between his legs. The effects from the battle with Thanos are clear—though it’s less intense than she imagines it was a year ago. White scar tissue spindles through the right side of Tony’s face, following down under his t-shirt and transitioning into to the metal arm painted the iconic Iron Man color scheme of red and gold.

Peter showed her the specs of that arm shortly after they got together—apparently Tony finished his rehab just after their trip to Europe, and it was supposed to be a gift from Peter. Seeing it on the man himself is…daunting, to say the least.

“Sorry about her,” Tony says, easing himself down the stairs as he approaches. There’s no kind of limp, but he seems to take his time with it all the same. “She gets a little territorial with us sometimes. Pep says we need to get her around more kids her own age, but the idea of sending her off to preschool…”

He shakes his head like he’s clearing cobwebs. She has to admit, he seems more human like this, surrounded by nature, talking about his daughter, the sun showing the lighter, grey strands of his hair more clearly.

“Hey, Pete,” Tony says, pulling Peter into a hug. It’s not just a one-armed casual sort of hug either, but a full one that goes on for a minute, dramatically rocking them back and forth. “Ugh, I missed you.”

“It’s only been a few days, Mister Stark!” Peter’s laughing reply is muffled into Tony’s shoulder. When they come apart, the smile from earlier has returned. Tony’s hands—robotic and human—have moved to Peter’s shoulders.

“A week. A whole week! I can’t spend that much time away from you anymore. It aggravates my angina.”

“Now you’re just trying to be embarrassing,” Peter grumbles, reluctant when the other man runs his hand through Peter’s gelled hair and musses it up just so.

“Absolutely,” Tony admits. He turns to Michelle. “You must be the famous scary girlfriend.”

“You’re just as bad as Morgan!” Peter whines. MJ isn’t sure she’s ever heard him sound so childish in his life despite the fact that he acts like a giant, overexcited goofball ninety percent of the time.

“My reputation precedes me,” Michelle ends up replying, shaking Tony’s hand when it’s offered. For some reason she was more nervous to meet Morgan than her father. Maybe it’s just her instinct to not be intimidated by rich tycoon types. Then again…she and the rest of the world know that he’s much more than that. Still. Old habits die hard.

“Now see, she can take a joke. I like her,” Tony says, nodding at Peter. Peter’s face goes a soft red, just edging on a full blush. She doesn’t really care if Tony likes her, but Peter clearly does.

Tony hooks an arm around both of their shoulders, leading them up to the house.

“Seriously, it’s good to have you guys. I’ve kind of been dreaming about the holidays—it got me through a lot of my physical therapy sessions,” he admits. It seems to be a more vulnerable comment than he lets on—Peter leans his head onto Tony’s shoulder. He’s almost too tall for it, but it’s…weirdly sweet. Peter’s big on physical comfort, as she now knows. Apparently even Tony has gotten used to it.

“Christmas is going to be a goddamn blow out, trust me,” Tony continues, breaking their grouping to lead them into the house. “Wall to wall Avengers, a mountain of presents. I’m slowly but surely convincing Pepper to let me build a fully functioning Santa’s sleigh to put on the roof.”

“No, he’s not,” comes a voice from deeper in the house. Pepper Potts steps in from what must be the kitchen, wiping flour off on the apron around her waist. “I will accept the light-up ones that are meant to be decoration and nothing else.”

Pepper presses a finger into her husband’s chest firmly, spreading a puff of flour and accenting her point with a quick peck to his lips. It’s a surprisingly domestic scene. She looks at Peter, and he’s looking at her already, soft doe eyes and a mind probably full of gross, sweet things that are way, way in their future.

Dork, she mouths. His returning smile is predictably un-cowed.

“You kids are just adorable,” Tony comments. Pepper nudges him with an elbow on her way to Peter.

“Hi, sweetie,” she says, pressing a kiss to his head and holding her hands up. “I’d hug you but—“

“All good,” Peter replies. “Anything I can do to help?”

“No, no. You unpack, relax. I’ve got it, just—semi-literally have my fingers in a lot of pies, right now.”

“That’s code for please, god, don’t let a Parker near my cooking,” Tony whispers to her.

“Enhanced. Hearing.” Peter’s look at his mentor is the closest to peeved that he really gets. (She has to admit, though—there’s a reason they mostly go out or order in on dates. Cooking isn’t really either of their fortes.)

“Boys,” Pepper hums. It sounds like this is a common occurrence in the Stark household. “It’s nice to meet you, Michelle. Peter talks about you all the time. Again, I’d shake your hand, but—“ She holds up her palms, shrugging.

“No it’s—super awesome to meet you. Thank you for having me.” It’s actually beyond awesome. Despite her beef with Stark Industries and their ilk, she has to admit Pepper Potts is pretty high on her list of inspirational female powerhouses. She became CEO at 40 with only a Bachelor’s in Business and a Fine Arts minor, and Stark Industries entered a historic era of technology production and philanthropy under her guidance.

“Oh my god, you’re totally starstruck right now, aren’t you?” Peter questions in her ear, quieter than Tony so that only she hears.

“Shut up,” she says between her teeth, swatting at his arm without breaking her smile at Pepper.

Pepper smiles, giving Tony a look that Michelle can’t decipher. It might be flirtatious? Are she and Peter reminding Pepper of Tony and herself when they were younger? Her life is so weird, right now.

“I’ll go get our stuff,” Peter offers, out the screen door before she can argue that she doesn’t need his help. Like, it’s nice that her boyfriend can lift an entire car’s worth of stuff in one go, but she doesn’t always need him to. It feels a little…exploitative of his powers, somehow.

“I have a five-year-old to console,” Tony says, then quirks his head. “Chide? Eh, I’ll feel it out in the moment. Maybe a little of both. Make yourself comfortable, Michelle.”

Pepper watches Tony ascend the stairs, a what can you do? sort of look on her face towards MJ.

“Seriously, you and Peter have the afternoon to yourselves. If you need anything, just ask FRIDAY.” Pepper points up to the ceiling, as if that’s where the AI lives—which, maybe it does—before she turns around and attends to the beeping timer coming from the kitchen.

Michelle’s had a little experience with Peter’s AI, Karen, but the whole house being run by a super AI is something totally out of the norm. Honestly, she’ll probably just ask Peter any questions to avoid conversing with it.

She takes the chance alone to really observe her surroundings. From the outside the house looked like a pretty rustic cabin, but inside it’s a mostly-open floor plan mix of modern design and homey decor.

In particular, she notices the walls and surfaces are covered in pictures. The entryway features what can only be a shot of Tony and Pepper’s wedding day. The lake is featured behind them—Tony in a suit, Pepper in a white maternity dress that accentuates her pregnant belly.

Further into the living area there’s a larger variety of shots: Baby Morgan in Tony’s arms at the hospital, a few older shots with faces Michelle recognizes—Bruce Banner, James Rhodes, and even a group shot of the Avengers, smiling and receiving Medals of Honor from the Mayor of New York.

Nestled in a few shots of Morgan at a few different ages is a familiar face. Peter is pictured with Tony—it’s a selfie that was clearly printed, Peter making a goofy face combating Tony’s unamused expression. Next to it is a more recent picture. It appears to be from the spring shortly after the battle. Morgan is sitting in Peter’s lap, her hands covered in sticky popsicle juice while Peter is taking a lick from the offered desert over her shoulder. Clearly a candid moment.

Finally, nestled in-between a shot of the Starks teaching a younger Morgan how to swim and a press picture of Tony and Pepper from a gala she can’t identify is one of Peter and Tony on the very couch next to her, both of them asleep and pajama-clad, like they’d fallen asleep like that the night before and someone caught it the morning after.

“Ugh, that one’s so bad,” Peter says, suddenly behind her. He has a talent for sneaking up on her, one that would probably be more useful if he wasn’t always running his mouth and announcing his presence, particularly to bad guys. “Of course you found it.”

“I didn’t realize—“ she starts, but frowns, unsure of exactly what she’s thinking. It’s so…homey, here, and Peter’s clearly welcome. She knew he visited a lot, but this… “You’re all over the place.”

Peter clearly doesn’t think anything of it, shrugging. “I, um. We didn’t have anywhere to go after, you know?”

He’s never comfortable talking about the Blip or the battle against Thanos. A lot of people aren’t, but Peter in particular always stumbles through it. In the months of their dating, he’s only brought it up if she’s asked, never on his own.

“We lived here for a while. Our old apartment belonged to someone else, but May wouldn’t take any charity, wouldn’t accept the Starks’ penthouse in the city. She and Pepper looked for a place in Queens for months, but there were suddenly all of those people looking for housing…”

He loses himself for a moment. He does this sometimes too, drifting off like he’s disconnected, unable to keep himself in the here and now.

She takes his hand, and with a squeeze he comes back. There aren’t any tears, but there’s a weight in his eyes that she recognizes: guilt. For having a home when others still don’t months later. For failing at stopping Thanos the first time. For any number of other things he’s yet to reveal to her.

“Peter…” she tries, but what can she say? It’s times like this that she wishes she was…more. That she was better equipped to handle this superhero life that he’s so dedicated to. He takes the weight of the world on his shoulders, and she hasn’t figured out exactly how to give him a break, to take some of the weight as her own, or if she ever can.

“It’s fine, I’m—anyway, it was just…kind of nice, after everything that happened. Tony was recovering from here, Pepper was working from home a lot, Morgan was scared, I was…” He clears his throat, not finishing the sentence. “It was good to have everyone under one roof for a while, that’s all.”

She tucks herself into his side in a hug, unsure how else to respond. He would accept platitudes but he wouldn’t believe them. She rarely knows the right thing to say, anyway. Maybe this is the best she can do.

He pats her shoulder, breaking the quiet. “Come on, I’ll show you upstairs.”

Peter keeps his arm around her as they walk, squeezing them both up the stairs with their backpacks in hand.

“We’re staying in my room.” He stops walking, stiffening in a way that makes her feel—well, her age. They haven’t even really discussed sex, but any discussions past their first few chaste kisses have turned out a little awkward, stumbling forward because neither of them have dated before this.

“I mean, as long as that’s okay with you, I can take the couch, or—“

“No, no, that’s fine. We’ve shared before,” she mumbles, knowing there have been a few times May must have seen them asleep on Peter’s bed and let them be. She assumes his aunt’s open door policy will stay in place, likely why the Starks are okay with them sharing. Not like she has much desire to do anything in the Starks’ house, and especially with a five-year-old only a few rooms away.

“Your room?” she asks, moving them along. She assumed he and May just shared a guest bed or something that he just took over whenever he visited, not that he had a room of his own.

“It, ah—Mister Stark insisted,” Peter laughs, but mixed in with the slight embarrassment is something warm too, shown by how Peter’s gaze turns to the door clearly labeled Morgan’s Room in a pretty cursive font, likely Pepper’s work. She can hear the soft murmurs of Tony’s voice in the room, meaning that Peter can probably hear the entire conversation.

There’s a bathroom in the hall that’s a mix of Morgan’s colorful bath toys and what she knows is Peter’s deodorant sitting on the sink counter. Next to Morgan’s room is another bedroom, likely Tony and Pepper’s. At the end of the hall is where they stop, the unmarked door holding a room that is different from Peter’s in New York, but funnily enough, almost more expressive of him.

Peter hasn’t made it a secret that he doesn’t love his new apartment—it’s smaller than their old place, and devoid of the memories from his Uncle Ben’s presence. He seems to think there’s not much point in decorating it with the future expectation of college dorms ahead of them, and has apparently spilled most of his personal effects across this room instead.

The A New Hope poster on the wall is one of the nicer reproductions, framed and—signed by Mark Hamill, of course, probably a gift from Tony. A hologram is up on the desk, the Spider-Man symbol lazily floating around like a desktop screensaver. There are a few Lego sets unfinished in the corner—Peter rarely finishes them without Ned to keep them on task.

It’s Peter spilling out of every crumpled sheet of loose-leaf paper, every sneaker missing its mate.

Peter immediately takes to cleaning up the array of dirty clothes on the floor, mumbling apologies. She spies a faded hoodie with the cracked screen-printing of MIT’s logo among the mess before he scoops it up too.

“I was in a hurry last time I was here, sorry. Pepper says she won’t clean up after me because it sets a bad example for Morgan—which I totally get! But also, I mean, you’ve met me.”

It’s as self-explanatory as he makes it sound—he has a busy life. Sometimes, when stuff is crazy, a few dirty socks on the floor don’t really matter so much.

However, she also senses that some part of him likes the mess. His room in the city is a cramped box, and the charging case for the Iron Spider takes up an entire corner on its own. Here, he’s free to spread himself across the floors and up the walls as much as he likes.

“Yeah, Parker, you are kind of a mess,” she teases, only smiling more at his response of wrinkling his nose up at her.

“Anyway,” he continues with a grunt, flinging a sock into a hamper that’s overfull like he’s some kind of basketball star and frowning when it bounces into the floor instead. “Since Pepper’s kicked us out of the kitchen and Mo is being a grouch, we can do whatever. FRIDAY has any movie or show you could want—comedies, romcoms, that sad documentary about polar bears you like…“

“It’s not sad, it’s realistic.”

“What’s real is that you watched me cry about the ice caps melting for like thirty minutes, M.”

He brings her close, wrapping his arms around her waist and swaying them in place like it’s some kind of grand romantic moment, the two of them bickering in the middle of his messy bedroom at Tony Stark’s house. For some reason she has the impression that he’ll spurt into a tall and lanky mess in a few years, but for now she’s still looking down at him just a smidge, meaning he’s looking up at her all…mushy and enamored.

“As we all should,” she replies, failing to sound serious because she’s suddenly distracted by the hint of Peter’s teeth peeking out of his smile. Her boyfriend is so cute, which, yes, she knew that, but it’s just—he’s so much, Peter Parker, and she’s barely even scratched the surface after quietly watching him for years and thinking she had him all figured out. It’s intimidating, to see the open emotion on his face and know there’s even more that she’d never considered underneath.

“I—“ She takes a breath, trying to recover from the flustered blush that’s creeped up her cheeks without her permission. “Nap. I could go for a nap. That sounds good, right?”

Peter’s smile grows—he’s always so entertained when he breaks her brain like this, so smug that he’s one of the only people that can.

At her warning look, he lets her awkward stumbling drop, holding up his hands. “Yeah, MJ, that’s—sounds good.”

“That’s what I thought.”

If she picked that activity for an excuse to hold Peter close for a few hours alone after the barrage of meeting so many new people, well, no one has to know.

“Pete.” A voice she only vaguely recognizes is within the edge of her consciousness. It’s not her step-father, so she chooses to ignore it, snuggling into the warmth under her head further. “Spiiiider-baby. Kiddo, c’mon, wake up.”

Her eyes open just a slit—watery vision turned milky by the overpowering beam of light that leaks in. In the darkness of the room, she finds Peter’s face, still firmly buried in his pillow. Behind him, partially obscured by the curve of his shoulder and the powerful light from the hallway, is Tony.

He smiles when he catches her eyes. “Not the one I planned on, but hey, one out of two’s not bad.”

“Peeetey,” Tony tries Peter again, this time accompanying his calls with a touch to Peter’s head, he’s—running his hand through Peter’s hair? Is she dreaming? “Buddy, it’s time to get up. It’s dinnertime.”

“Hm?” finally comes Peter’s groggy response, slurred as he turns into Tony’s hand.

“Magic words,” Tony jokes to her, stroking Peter’s curls again, fully mussing what’s already been ruined by their nap.

“Feels nice,” Peter sighs. He squeezes the arm he has around MJ, as if for emphasis. “M’comfy.”

“Aw, they’re so cute when they’re sleepy,” Tony full-on coos, and that seems to do it, eliciting a groan from Peter’s chest against her ear.

“You’re so embarrassing, Mister Stark.” Peter bats Tony’s hand away this time, rubbing at his eyes and flitting them over to the holographic clock on the desk—6:30 PM.

“We slept a while.”

“I’ll say. I had Morgan all primed for an apology and you two were totally passed out.”

MJ removes herself from Peter’s hold, running a hand through her loosened ponytail and catching a few matted curls with a frown.

Tony turns up the lights slowly, sliding the switch to half-power.

“I negotiated that you two would watch Mulan with her after dinner, by the way. She tests people with how they react to Disney movies. Don’t ask me why.”

Peter nods solemnly, stretching his arms with a few quick pops.

“I got Tangled. Ned and I went to see it with Ned’s little sister as kids, but I still got all choked up at the whole hair-cutting scene. Cemented me with her for life.”

Peter literally rolls off of the bed, landing on his feet as if he’d simply sat up and stood like a normal person.

She and Tony are similarly unimpressed.

“The fact that you also act like her personal spidery-jungle-gym probably doesn’t hurt either,” he comments.

“You’re just mad that she doesn’t play Iron Man as much anymore.”

Tony sniffs, but doesn’t deny it. “Pizza’s getting cold. Pepper was too tired to cook anything else tonight, and I instantly agreed.”

“But have you ever had pizza for Thanksgiving?” Peter inquires, tapping his skull with his pointer finger like this idea holds the secrets of the universe. “You order the night before and eat it reheated the next day. No cooking required.”

“Just say May burned a turkey the year before and you were scared,” Tony replies. “It’s so much faster that way.”

“I’ll have you know it was Uncle Ben who was scared—“

By the time they’ve moved on to weighing the importance of tradition versus creating new traditions, Michelle has managed to brush her hair back into a more controlled ponytail and has splashed a little water on her face in the bathroom.

They’re still in Peter’s room going at it when she returns.

“You guys talk a lot,” she interrupts.

They both go silent, look at each other, then shrug. It’s like looking into a mirror, in a weird way, and she’s concerned that she’s dating half of that mirror when the other half is Tony Stark, who spent years flying around in a suit of armor and almost died on multiple occasions.

“Daddy!” Morgan thumps her way up the stairs, sliding into Tony’s legs on socked feet. “Mommy said you’re taking too long.”

Tony easily brings his daughter into his arms, bouncing her on his hip and leading them down the stairs that way.

“Oh she did, did she?” he asks, voice taking on a playful quality. “That doesn’t sound like Mommy. She usually just tells me to hurry the fu—“

“Mister Stark!” Peter interjects, slapping his hands over Morgan’s ears and awkwardly hovering over Tony’s shoulder on the stairway to do it. Honestly, it would probably be more comfortable for him to just get on the ceiling at this point.

“Oh, I’m kidding! I wasn’t actually gonna say it!”

Tony pulls Morgan out of Peter’s loose grip, moving all of them forward and almost sending Peter toppling down the stairs. MJ grabs the back of Peter’s shirt even though she suspects his feet are doing the steadying for him.

“You guys are like some kind of messed up comedy troupe,” Michelle comments, watching Peter pout and dust off his clothes as if it will rid him of any embarrassment.

Pepper shakes her head at all of them as they enter the kitchen, probably having heard at least some of that. “More like a circus,” she grumbles.

“We do have an alpaca,” Tony adds, placing Morgan onto her feet.

“I think that’d be more of a petting zoo,” Peter argues.

“Michelle, I’m sorry about them,” Pepper says. “Get whatever you want, we always order plenty for Mister-Mega-Metabolism over here.”

Pepper points to Peter, who has already unceremoniously shoved half of a slice of pepperoni pizza in his mouth and has a trail of grease slipping down his chin.

“You guys are so mean,” he sulks without bothering to swallow, meaning the words are a garbled, spitting mess. “Mister Stark’s the one that keeps nagging me about my blood sugar!”

“You’re attracted to this,” Tony says to Michelle, pointing at Peter. “This? Really?”

“He’s alright,” she answers, dragging both a slice of vegetarian and a slice of cheese onto her own plate without bothering to look at Peter’s fake-hurt expression.

“MJ, you’re supposed to be on my side, this is—I can’t even—“

In his distraction, Morgan decides to be sneaky. Only MJ seems to catch her subtle movements toward Peter, using her short height to her advantage and the element of surprise to steal what’s left of the piece of pizza from Peter’s hand. She giggles to herself triumphantly, biting into it herself.

“Morgan, sweetie, that’s—“ Pepper tries, but seems to lose the end of the admonishment that was probably about germs.

Peter only smiles, crouching as if preparing for a fight.

“Here they go,” Tony hums, expectant in a way Michelle certainly isn’t.

“You better watch out, you little—!” In a fit of laughter, Morgan sprints out of the kitchen, Peter hot on her heels. They run a lap around the living room furniture.

“Peter, leave your sister alone, she needs to eat her—aaaaand they’re already in the yard,” Tony sighs. He and Pepper seem to give up, bringing their own plates and the so far unused plates of Peter and Morgan to the table. MJ follows suit, placing herself an empty chair between the two table heads.

“I swear to god, they’re normal, like, ninety percent of the time.” Tony pauses. “Eighty-five. Solid eighty percent.”

“Did you…?” MJ feels awkward asking about it, but maybe it’s something Peter hasn’t told her yet, something she wasn’t supposed to know that just slipped out. Tony said—he called Morgan Peter’s sister. “Is there something I should know?”

Both Tony and Pepper look at Michelle like she’s not making any sense.

“What you said—that Morgan is Peter’s sister, it’s just—I can keep a secret! I just didn’t know he was, you know. Yours.“

“He wishes,” Pepper snorts into her ice water.

Tony’s responding smile is far too wide.

“I keep asking May for partial custody, but she just won’t budge!” He snaps his fingers in a very exaggerated, aw, shucks way. Pepper and Tony both laugh.

“Ah,” she lets out, embarrassed to have even had the thought that Peter might be Tony’s secret child or something, picking at her pizza toppings to avoid looking at the Starks.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” Pepper pats her arm comfortingly. “Before the Blip there were articles with pretty similar lines of questioning. All shut down because they photographed a minor, of course.”

Pepper seems pretty proud of that, and MJ supposes she should be. People definitely would have made the Spider-Man connection sooner if Peter and Tony were in the paper together all the time.

More seriously, Tony says, “I’ve looked at the kid’s blood…more than I wish I had, honestly, but he gets injured, it happens. Anyway, yeah, no. FRIDAY would have figured that one out pretty quickly. DNA scanners and all.”

She nods, and the awkward silence thankfully only has to sit for a few more seconds before Peter  bursts back into the house, Morgan wriggling around and squealing in his arms.

“I caught a wild Morguna!” Peter cheers.

“Is that the name of an actual Pokémon?” Tony asks, switching his gaze between Pepper and Michelle for an answer. “Did I accidentally nickname my kid after a battling monster thing? I only know like three of them, help me out here.”

Peter rolls his eyes, placing Morgan down with a quick tickle to her ribs that sends her flying towards the table.

“Come eat, Little Miss,” Tony commands, patting his hand on the chair to his right. Peter sits automatically to his left. “Michelle won’t want to watch a movie with you if you misbehave.”

“Do you like Disney movies?” Morgan probes, kicking her feet under the table and creating a light vibration.

Michelle shrugs. “Depends on which movie.”

Morgan squints, accessing. She nods.

“Good answer.”

Next to her under the table, Peter gives her a thumbs up, another piece of pizza already in his other hand.

The answer of where he got the food is clear as Tony shoves his other piece over to Morgan.

Pepper rolls her eyes and stands to presumably help re-fill his plate from the boxes on the counter.

Mulan was as good as MJ remembered it being when she was a kid.

Morgan seemed pretty pleased when she started mouthing along the words to I’ll Make A Man Out Of You, but less so when that prompted Peter to turn it into a dance number including the jumping kicks that almost resulted in a broken glass coffee table.

Despite their earlier nap, Michelle and Peter both find it fairly easy to fall asleep that night.

Still, it may be because of the nap that she doesn’t sleep as hard. She feels a disturbance, physically—Peter’s warmth leaves the bed, the steady pressure of his spine against her own is no longer there.

At first Michelle thinks it’s just a quick bathroom trip. Then she finds that she’s not as comfortable as she was those five minutes before without Peter because he keeps the room warm and he’s cool under the sheets (possibly because of the spider-man thing, she’s never asked).

So she waits.

She thinks about the English paper that will be her final for this semester that she only has half an idea for, and what drills AcaDec should be running for their first practice after the break, and…still no Peter.

She thinks about the pictures she spotted of Peter and Tony in the kitchen—the one of them from his internship next to one of Tony in a hospital gown, Peter on the hospital bed, his body covering Tony’s lost arm, both of them smiling with wet eyes and what it all means.

He still isn’t back yet.

She scoots over to Peter’s side of the bed and peeks her head out of the open door. There’s not even a light on in the bathroom.

Well, now she definitely has to investigate.

The cabin probably isn’t old enough for any squeaky floorboards, but she watches her step just the same, aware of every little noise in the half-dark of the night. She makes it to the stairs before she finally sees the dim glow of lights on downstairs accompanying the sound of someone talking.

“…it’s just so—messy.“

“Then explain it to me.”

She goes to her tiptoes, moving just a few steps down. On the couch she identifies the owners of the voices—the backs of Peter and Tony’s heads are silhouetted in the light of the fireplace in front of them.

“Tony…” Peter says, clearly hesitant, curling further into the couch.

“I can handle it, Pete. It’s worse for me when I don’t know what you’re going through, trust me,” Tony replies.

“I don’t even know what I’m going through,” Peter jokes, but his voice is weak, and Tony doesn’t laugh.

Peter sighs. “It was just—one thing to another. Like, I was under that building, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe, and then it was Titan, and I couldn’t breathe and I could feel myself—I could feel it happening and I was reaching out to you, but then you were—“

She can’t see Peter’s face, but his arm moves over his eyes, and the sleeve comes away tear-stained. He’s crying. Peter’s crying, broken, and her heart strains to do something about it, but this is—all of this is so much and she’s just overhearing it, what is she even doing?

“You were dying and I couldn’t…I heard when your heart—when you—” Peter’s words hitch into sobs, quiet and purposefully muted, like he’s scared to release them.

“Oh, buddy, no, no,” Tony brings Peter closer, his arm bundling Peter against his chest. Earlier she’d thought of what Peter might look like years from now, but now he looks smaller, younger.

The things Peter’s seen…he fought aliens in space, he was dusted and remembers it, his hero, his mentor, this man taking on Peter’s tears and pain with his whole body, his heart—another father—almost died right in front of Peter’s eyes. God, Mysterio almost put a bullet through Peter’s head for revenge—they’re still children, how can Peter handle this, how could anyone?

“Shh, I’m right here. I’m here, I’ve got you,” Tony soothes easily, like Peter is Morgan, just another one of his children seeking comfort.

“It’s okay, Pete. Everyone is okay. Just let it out, you’re okay.” Tony presses a kiss to Peter’s head, rubbing Peter’s back, so gentle, so soft, so unlike anything the world has ever shown her about Tony Stark, something precious and kind.

Something saved only for Peter, for his family.

Michelle sits at the top of the stairs for too long.

Too long thinking of every epic story Peter’s ever told about Spider-Man—the bruises he brushes off, the cuts and scrapes that he can hide away within a day, all of the times that he wins, the failures glided over as footnotes to a success story.

There’s so much she doesn’t know.

She knew he carried guilt, responsibility, but never this. This is a raw, deep wound of loss. It’s a fear scraping at him in the dark that he hides in the light. That he hides from everyone. From her.

Peter is curling into Tony for that comfort instead, burying his fears and worries into the man who brought him into all of this. If there’s anyone that could understand, of course it would be Tony.

She doesn’t know what do to with this knowing of everything she doesn’t. These are things she’s scared to know, things she wants to know anyway because they’re a part of Peter, and she wants more of him despite the sensical parts of her brain that scream for her to run off to California for college and leave dating a literal superhero that regularly risks his own life behind.

As Peter’s tears start to taper off, she stands from her place on the stairs, tip-toeing her way back up to Peter’s bedroom just as quietly as she came, leaving Tony's final whisper of, “I love you, it’s okay,” behind her.

She lies down, bringing the covers that smell of Peter's body wash up to her neck, the familiar scent comforting.

She only falls back asleep as the first dregs of sunshine begin to peek through Peter’s blinds.

Peter doesn’t come back to bed.

Unlike the day before, Thanksgiving morning is a quiet affair. A fog seems to have fallen overnight, leaving the outside of the cabin wet and hazy, matching her mood after the night before.

MJ wakes lightly a few times: the scent of coffee hits her nose, a high-pitched giggle echoes from Morgan in the hall, the sounds of doors opening and closing downstairs break the spell on and off.

If Peter enters the room to get dressed, he doesn’t wake her. She’s not sure if she wants him to or not.

There’s this—knot, buried right in the middle of her chest. Guilt for watching a private moment. Disappointed that she hadn’t thought about it sooner, that she’d let herself accept his constant assurances that he was fine, that there was nothing for her to worry about beyond the norm.

It’s Happy that ends up waking her.

“Knock, knock,” he announces, pulling open the already cracked door. Michelle doesn’t think she’s ever seen him out of a suit before now—usually he’s playing driver for them after school or hovering around Peter and May’s place, something Peter’s only become minimally more comfortable with since May and Happy's dating-ish-thing started. He’s picked a dress shirt and dark jeans instead. Not far from casually formal, but still…weird.

“Morning,” she announces from her blanket bundle, sulky and comfortable.

His eyebrow raises, wrinkling his balding hairline. “Do I wanna know?”

She shrugs.

“Okay, well, Tony and the other kids are making breakfast. Doesn’t seem like your thing, missing out on good food.”

“Are you fat-shaming a growing teenage girl?” She raises an eyebrow, her face dead serious and her tone purposefully instigating.

“Of course not, why would you—“ he catches on quickly, used to her tricks by now, her jokes that aren’t jokes. His lips hint at a smile under his goatee. “Very funny, kid.”

“I thought so.” She smiles.

“Food in ten,” Happy reiterates, turning around to shut the door.

“Happy—wait,” MJ calls, hesitant. He looks back at her expectantly, but she isn’t sure what to say without saying everything, her emotions caught in her throat.

“You—Peter’s worked with you for a while, right?”

She sits up from under the covers, ignoring the borrowed t-shirt of Peter’s hanging off of her frame and the messy wrap containing her curls. This is Peter’s family, in a way, and Happy saw her unhinged and wielding a mace back in Europe. Surely they’re at the point of being able to ignore things like appropriate dress, or whatever.

Her hands end up wringing themselves together. She’s unsure where to look—the whole room is a reminder of Peter, a collage of all the different parts—the hero, the boy, the growing man.

Happy’s facial expression questions the non-sequitur, but he redirects to Peter’s bed anyway, situating himself comfortably, probably realizing this isn’t just about what she’s asking.

“Working with, not so much. Looking after his scrawny ass…” He nudges her with his shoulder, but she doesn’t brighten up much, so he sobers.

“In the beginning, I spent a lot of time ignoring him when he needed me the most. Tony and I both did, and we both regretted it. After the Vulture, things changed. I listened to every asinine voicemail, Tony instituted lab time every other weekend…”

Happy clears his throat, his eyes honest. “Don’t tell him this, but after we lost him, I spent so much time wishing I hadn’t missed a minute of it. I kept wishing I could get him back, listen to him babble about his nerdy crap in the back of the car for just one more hour. Stupid stuff.”

“But then he came back,” she supplies.

He nods. “Then he came back. Tony was out of commission, and I promised myself that I wasn’t ever going to miss another call, even if it was just the kid rattling my ear off about free churros or a dress that he thought looked nice on you at school that day.” At the ending comment, he bumps a hand at her leg, emphasizing.

“Ugh,” she groans, but puts a hand over her mouth to hide a smile. Happy doesn’t appear fooled.

“What’s this about, Michelle?” he asks, meeting her eyes.

She sighs, crossing her arms and leaning back against the bed’s headboard.

“It’s just—after everything that’s happened, after everything you’ve seen him go through…do you think—is Peter okay?”

Something dawns on Happy’s face, followed by a somber kind of smile.

“If you ask me, the people that choose to do this kind of thing—these hero types…none of ‘em are anything close to okay. I mean, you’ve seen the kind of stuff they’re up against first hand. Weird tech, magic, aliens…it doesn’t exactly scream mental stability if you’re going towards that kind of danger.”

It’s not meant to be comforting, and he doesn’t say it as such. It’s just a fact: normal people don’t put on suits and fight bad guys and come out on the other side unscathed. That’s why so few ever do it, powers aside.

“But it does speak to a lot of heart. People didn’t understand that about Tony, when he started: you have to care about people a whole hell of a lot to want to keep saving their ungrateful asses over and over again.”

“I know that Peter cares—and I love that about him!” She blushes at the heated admission, but Happy seems content to let it go with only a kind smile. “It’s just—I didn’t realize how hard it must be on him. He doesn’t tell me how hard it is. I don’t know what to do.”

“Talk to him?” Happy suggests with dry condescension.

She frowns at him, because very clearly she’s not there yet, which is why she’s talking to him.

“I had to try,” he sighs. “Look, I know it’s hard to see someone like him going through all of this. It’s even harder when they don’t admit things are tough. Sometimes it’s just—there’s not much that you can do. We sit on the sidelines, we pitch in where we can, and when they do need us…”

He trails off, looking out Peter’s window. The lake ripples with a light rain.

“When they do need us, we show up. We show up and tell them how stupid they are for acting tough. We’re there when it matters, even when they’re being stubborn and telling us to go.”

Happy shrugs. “Well, that’s always been my tactic, anyway.”

MJ shrugs back, biting her lip. “It’s not the worst advice I’ve ever heard.”

“Tony?” he questions.

“Captain America. Those pre-recorded seminars make you want a big bag of weed more than any college stoner alive.”

Happy actually does laugh at that, patting her knee over Peter’s comforter.

“You two are good together. And I’m not just saying that cause I’m romantic or something—though I did know Pepper and Tony would be perfect together before anyone else, and you can quote me on that.” He points his finger at her, dead serious. Clearly that’s a regular argument at the Stark family get-togethers.

“He’s not going to get lost in this alone. He has too many people on his side for that. But if you need him to be more honest, you’re probably going to have to ask for it. Multiple times. Explicitly. These geniuses have concrete skulls protecting all of that brain matter.” He taps against his own head for effect.

“Yeah, I—thanks, Happy.”

“No problem,” he replies. Then he groans as he lifts himself from the bed, standing. “Now get up, or Morgan’s going to hog all of the syrup. Tony’s not above stealing from her syrup pool, but I personally think it’s an abomination.”

Despite the quiet morning, downstairs is filled with activity once she arrives, her floral dress toned down by one of her favorite grandpa sweaters, grey and a little garish.

Happy arrived with James Rhodes, apparently, as the Colonel is currently swinging Morgan around the living room like it’s a playground. Pepper and Happy are involved in something at the stove, crowded together and bickering about whatever they’re attempting not to burn. Tony is absent at the moment (out feeding their alpaca, maybe,) but Peter’s gaze finds her from his place at the counter where he’s seemingly just stealing bits of fruit out of a bowl instead of contributing.

His smile makes her feel floaty, like the department store dress and thrift store sweater are something more elegant, something he’s revering from across the room. She has value outside of his opinion, yes, but she likes his stuttering compliments, the bloom of pink on his cheeks, the tentative hand he links into her own.

Michelle likes him, might even love him one day, and she wants to get past all of this business where she’s torn up about his other life as a superhero and get back to his eager attempts to get her to full-belly laugh, holding his hand in the hallway, sneaking chaste kisses as rewards for acing flash cards.

“Hey,” Peter says, but he looks just as pensive as she feels. Maybe he knows how she’s feeling, senses it with his weird tingle-thing.

“Hey.”

They end up breaking the following silence at the same time.

“Peter, I—“

“Can we—“

She tilts her head to the porch, smiling. They’re both kind of ridiculous. “Outside?”

Peter situates himself on the porch’s bannister, swinging his legs from his perch. She chooses to lean on the wood next to him.

She’s trying to prepare exactly what she wants to say when Peter says, “I know that you were there last night. I know you heard…well, everything.”

Michelle’s eyes go wide, turning to him apologetically. Of course, his super senses. He probably heard her heartbeat.

“I really didn’t mean to pry, you just didn’t come back to bed and when I overheard you were clearly so upset and—“

“It’s okay, MJ.”

“Is it, though?” she asks curtly. “Because it didn’t seem like that was the first time something like that’s happened.”

He looks away. “It’s not.”

She nudges his side with her own, swaying him on his ledge a little.

“I’m sorry. It’s my fault, bringing everything up like I did.”

“M, no, that’s not—“

She holds up a hand, asking for his silence.

“I just feel like I kept…pushing. You don’t really talk about all of this—Tony, the battle with Thanos, everything that made you want to become Spider-Man. And I realized I never really asked, either.”

She knows that she doesn’t have to take this burden on for him, but she wants him to know she’s listening, that she cares.

“I mean—Tony Stark is kind of your dad, dude! And I had no idea.”

Peter laughs, rubbing the back of his neck as if embarrassed. He also doesn’t deny it.

“It just…it made me feel like a crappy girlfriend, ‘cause I never thought about how all of that felt for you. That’s all.”

“You’re not a crappy girlfriend,” he replies, bringing her hand to his lips for a quick kiss. “Just ask Mister Stark—for all that I like talking, telling people about my problems…” He shakes his head in distaste. “I hate it. It feels like I’m just complaining.”

“Well, I personally love complaining, and would love to hear you do it more,” she says.

He lets out a breath of a laugh through his nose, but he sobers again, keeping hold of her hand and squeezing.

“The stuff with Tony…it can be hard to talk about him without mentioning everything that got us here. It’s easier to let people think what they want to.”

MJ nods, understanding. Tony has been a public figure for his entire life. It makes sense that he’s pretty insular about the people that he considers family. Anyone important can be a liability—at least, she knows that Peter also tends to see it that way.

“It’s cute that you care about my relationship with him so much, though. I didn’t realize you were so protective,” Peter teases, hopping off of the ledge and onto the porch next to her.

“Oh, shut up,” she grumbles, swaying their still-attached hands between them.

“Yeah, yeah,” he hums, smile wide across his face. He’s used to the parts of her that go hot and cold, and takes them in stride.

It feels good to have this out in the open, a previously closed door now tentatively cracked and inviting her in. It's a step closer, she thinks. A step closer to him and his world, this family he's made for himself.

A familiar look overtakes his face, and she feels a rush of warmth in her veins.

When they kiss—really kiss—it’s always tentative, a silent game of question and answer.

Peter inches closer, slow enough that she could turn away if she wanted. (She never does.)

Michelle tilts her head, reaffirming his desire. Are you sure? (He always is, his confidence always so much easier than hers.)

Together they take the final step, their movements more confident now as they’re slowly gaining practice. The slight difference of height between them often means she catches his top lip and his hands have a way of snaking around her waist, pulling them closer.

A wolf-whistle breaks them apart abruptly.

It’s Tony, walking over from what appears to be a barn not far from the lakeside, a teasing caught-the-canary smile in place.

“Well, well, look at you two,” he says, working his way up the steps with a little more pep than the day before.

“Please don’t start,” Peter begs, shrugging off the metal hand that immediately goes to ruffle his hair.

“Hey, you’re lucky it was just me. Rhodey has a real hard-on for breaking up PDA.”

“Please never say hard-on again in my presence.”

“Say it in mine,” Michelle interrupts. “I want it on camera.”

“I mean, I’m sure it already is if you look hard enough.”

Peter groans.

“I’ve never hidden my past from you, Pete. Now, Morgan—I’m hiding as much as possible from her internet searches until she’s at least sixteen.”

“I personally love the old flip-phone one of you drunkenly dancing on a bar-top to Toxic.”

“Oh, yeah! I actually remember that. Nice girl, Miss Spears.”

“I regret introducing you two,” Peter sighs, pouting.

“Love you too, kiddo,” Tony replies, opening the door ahead of them. “Now, c’mon. Happy’s going to deep-fry the turkey and you gotta watch. It’s some real Food Network shit.”

“Mommy! Daddy said your word again!” comes Morgan’s call from the living room area.

Peter shrugs to her, a smile on his face like he’s apologizing for getting her involved in all this.

She takes his hand again, giving it a squeeze before following him back into the Starks’ lake house and shutting the door.

[vlindervin7]

“22. basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss” for Davenzi.

From this prompt list! Not my best work and also too long to be a drabble but! i hope it’s a little enjoyable at least! 

basorexia - the overwhelming desire to kiss 

The first time David meets Matteo he’s pretty sure he stops breathing for a moment. It’s a windy October afternoon when he goes to meet Leonie at their favorite coffeeshop. His shoulders ache with the weight of his backpack. He’s a bit grumpy, tired from class after class after class, his ears sizzling. He’s excited to see Leonie, though. She’ll hopefully be able to snap him out of his mood and make him laugh. 

When he arrives, he sees a group of boys with their backs to him, but no Leonie, which is weird because she’s never late and it’s already five minutes over the decided time. He’s just about to take his phone to send her a message, when he hears his name being called. There, from behind her hiding spot in front of the boys, Leonie steps and calls his attention. David loves how tiny she is. 

Once he stands next to her and gives her a quick hug, she turns away from him and gestures to the boys in front of her. ‘These are friends I went to school with. I’ve told you about Jonas, my ex.’ She points to a curly-haired boy who offers him a warm, albeit sheepish smile. ‘Carlos, Abdi’, both of which give him a goofy one, ‘and that’s Matteo, Jonas’ best friend.’ And oh. 

The boy, Matteo, is possibly the most beautiful person David has ever seen, and as an artist, he spends most of his time collecting beautiful things. Matteo has messy blond hair that’s blown back by the wind, and eyes that make David want to find a way to press the ocean into a pencil, a cute button nose above a pair of soft-looking pink lips. There’s this one song that plays sometimes at his job at the student’s common room I’ve never seen a mouth that I would kill to kiss and it’s the only thing coming to his mind right now. It’s a sappy thought, and a ridiculous one that would ruin his whole entire tough exterior, so he dismisses it immediately, but it still lingers at the back of his mind. 

He tries to nod at the boys in what he hopes is a collected manner. Matteo gives him a small smile, but so sweet and David can’t handle this. 

‘We were just telling Leonie about the party at Carlos’ place tomorrow’, Jonas says, finally pulling David’s attention away from Matteo. ‘You can totally come too if you want!’ 

David hesitates for a second. He has so much work to do, but he has to admit a party would do him good. He might see Matteo again, too, this way, but that’s definitely not why he answers: ‘Yeah, maybe. That sounds cool, thanks.’ 

Not soon after, the boys go on their way and Leonie and David get that coffee they’ve been wanting since they woke up. 

The next day David dresses nice and heads over to Carlos’ place with Leonie and Sara. They soon get lost in their weird flirting and don’t even notice when David slips away and finds himself in the bathroom with the boys he met yesterday, smoking a joint and trying not to stare at Matteo too much. He has a surprisingly good time, the boys easy company, never making David feel left out. At the end of the night, he leaves the party slightly drunk and still a bit high, having been added to the ok.cool group chat, which he knows will both make him laugh and give him a headache, with four new friends. And maybe a crush, too, but that’s not what is important here. 

***

They all grow very close, very quickly. As swiftly as the boys had added him to their group chat, just as swiftly they’d accepted David as one of their own. They hang out, and meet at one of their apartments to play video games and eat kebabs, to smoke sometimes. They go to more parties, hang out in parks, coming up with crazy ping pong tournaments that last hours. 

He even goes as far as telling them he’s trans when talk of high school comes up one day, and they eventually asked David for input. They take it well. Some stupid question are asked, but all with good intention, and none offensive. 

Sometimes, he hangs out with just Matteo, too, and it definitely does not lessen his attraction. He learns more about him and starts to trust him with secrets of his own. Their conversations are often light, but they always feel important, never feel unnecessary. It turns into one of David’s favorite things to do. 

He finds out Matteo is gay, which his brain is having a field day with, that he studies programming at uni and that he’s crazy smart even though he tends to underestimate himself and downplay it, that he has a complicated relationship with his mother but that he loves her more than anything, and that he’s quite possibly the cutest person David has ever met. 

They’re having a movie night at Matteo’s flatshare, watching some Hollywood blockbuster David could drag through the mud if he were in the right mood. He’s not about to ruin it for everyone, though, and he does m anage to just enjoy himself sometimes. It’s a nice night. Hans and Linn join them after a while, and they bring them more snacks. David’s met them a few times in passing before, but he’s never really spent time with them, but unsurprisingly they turn out to be equally lovely as everyone else he’s met through these people. 

When the movie is over, no one moves, too content to sit there and be stupid. They play some silly drinking games with shitty beer that won’t actually get any of them properly drunk, although David does start to feel slightly tipsy after a while. 

Abdi is just telling some complicated story when David looks to his right, having forced himself to stop stealing glances at Matteo every two seconds as it would soon become glaringly obvious, and notices Matteo has dozed off. He’s laying on the sofa’s headrest, a light blanket covering his legs. He looks so peaceful, much to David’s confusion. He’d never be able to fall asleep that deeply with this much noise around. 

Jonas must see him looking, because he leans closer to David, making his voice clearer over Abdi’s passionate story telling. ‘Luigi can fall asleep everywhere. Once when we were smaller, he’d invited me to one of his cousin’s wedding. I lost him after a while, but then when everyone was dancing in the evening, I found him behind one of the buffet tables, fast asleep. He’d made his suit jacket into a pillow and didn’t seem to mind the party around him in the least.’ 

David laughs imagining a tiny Matteo being fed up with everything and just deciding to make himself a makeshift bed. He must have been even cuter back then, as hard as that is to imagine. ‘I can’t relate.’ 

Jonas looks down at Matteo with an amount of open softness he’s rarely seen, and adjusts the blanket a bit, and with a laugh says: ‘Yeah, me neither. He’ll probably wake up here tomorrow morning wondering what happened.’

Looking at Matteo like this, so peaceful and serene, there’s an undeniable urge building inside David to just reach out and. Comb through his hair, kiss his forehead, cuddle up to him, convinced he’d feel warmer than ever just being close to him.

He shakes those thoughts off, focuses back on Abdi. It’s weird, he tells himself, to think of a friend in that way without their consent. Or maybe it isn’t and David is just too much of a coward to act on his feelings, for fear of rejection and the possibility of losing this group of people, knowing they’d pick Matteo’s side if it came down to it. 

***

They’re at another party, which this time one of Leonie’s friends is throwing. The boys are here, too, but he’d told them he wouldn’t have that much time to hang out this time as he’d be hired as Leonie’s official wingman. Her and Sara are finally starting to get somewhere in their relationship, but it just won’t actually take off and Leonie’s getting frustrated. She’d decided this would be the night she’d finally kiss her and David would help her with it. He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to do so, but he was sure Leonie had some sort of plan so he didn’t question it. 

When the boys had heard about the plan, they’d laughed. David hadn’t understood at first, why everyone but Matteo seemed to be dying of laughter, and Matteo was so red, until they’d explained about him dating Sara before coming out and how it all been very awkward. They were on better terms now, but Matteo still seemed to regret the way he’d strung her along. 

David is standing under the fluorescent lights now, talking to a girl he vaguely knows from school. Leonie had disappeared a while ago. He’s still on the lookout for her, but she’s so tiny he has a hard time finding her. He’s holding a half-empty cup with liquor that’s slowly having an effect on his body and he can’t quite hear everything the girl is saying, but enough to understand he’s not super interested. He’s polite, though, so he keeps listening. 

On the other side of the room, Matteo is talking to Carlos, having a much more interesting conversation it seems, as they keep bursting out in laughter. Every few minutes, Matteo catches David’s eye and offers him a smile, lighting drunken sparks in David’s stomach. 

He’s desperately trying to look at least a little bit interested and not lost in the boy on the other side of the room, but it’s not working very well, he has to say. He’s never felt like this before, never had someone he just wanted to spend all his time looking at, someone that made something burn under his skin, an itch that told David to touch.

He manages to keep himself under control until the music switches and he sees Matteo do the silliest, smallest little dance David has ever had the pleasure to see, and something snaps. Everything inside him is screaming to walk over there and push Matteo against the wall, gently box him in with his arms and -- 

He excuses himself from the conversation, renewing his efforts to find Leonie. He comes across a shots table on his way and does two in quick succession, trying to feel the music only and get lost in it, banishing images of blue eyes and silly smiles out of his head. It doesn’t really work, but at least he has a good time and gets to third wheel Leonie and Sara at the coffee shop now.  

***

Matteo is being annoying. Well David isn’t sure if annoying is necessarily the best word to use as, really, David isn’t actually annoyed, and has never been with Matteo. He’s just being silly, but it’s so endearing David can’t help but smile when he tells him to stop. 

They’re watching a movie, on his bed, just the two of them, which is already reason for David to freak out a litte. He’d picked the movie of course, something he was required to watch for his course, and thought he’d make more interesting by sharing it with Matteo. It works, but while he’s having a better time altogether, he’s also not really paying attention, so it proves a less than effective plan.

Matteo keeps fidgeting first of all, which David doesn’t mind. He can deal with that, and he knows it’s just something Mattoe does sometimes, to concentrate better or because there’s some kind of energy inside him he doesn’t know how to get rid of otherwise. At first, it was just that, but then he’d started poking David and shifting the computer and making very dramatic sighing noises when ‘nothing happened’. He’s clearly bored and wants David to pay him more attention, but David refuses to give in so soon, no matter how hard is whole body is screaming for him to. He needs to keep up some kind of facade. 

It’s not long before he can’t take it anymore, though. Matteo is poking him in the side now, sending stupid sparks through David’s stomach, and okay, he hasn’t heard what’s been said for ten minutes now, there’s no use continuing this. 

He hits the space bar and turns around, trying to feign annoyance. ‘Oh, my God, Matteo, what?’ 

He shakes his head softly when he sees Matteo sitting there with his big eyes and that grin on his face, looking to anyone like a devilish little angel. His hair is a mess and his cheeks are a bit pink, but David is afraid his are, too. His eyes are so blue. ‘I’m bored.’ 

The thing is that David can’t even blame him. He should be able to get all the important nuances in the movie, but even he thinks they could’ve added something to make it more interesting. 

‘What do you want me to do about that?’, he answers, tilting his head and smiling just a little bit because he can’t help it. 

‘Entertain me.’ 

David lifts his eyebrows and looks at Matteo for about ten seconds and then they’re play fighting. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but when he can help it David tends to avoid it because it’s a lot to feel Matteo all over him like that. He can forget about in the midst of the fighting when he gets too competitive. That’s not a problem. He always wins, though, and that is a bit of a problem. 

He has Matteo on his back, hands above his head and hair splayed out around him. There’s a dangerous glint in his eyes, and his cheeks are still pink. Their bodies are pressed together, too much for David to relax. They’re so close David can smell Matteo’s deodorant.

God. 

The things he’d do to him like this if he could. He’d bend down, pressing him deeper into the mattress, before kissing him and --

They’re still staring at each other without saying anything, and the heat is suddenly just on the right side of uncomfortable and David has to get out. 

‘I need to pee.’ 

He scrambles from the bed as fast as he can, and he just has the time to get a glimpse of Matteo’s face, who perhaps looks a little disappointed, but David’s sure that’s just his own feelings being projected. 

He forces himself to calm down in the bathroom before coming back out. When he does Matteo is sitting on the bed. ‘You can continue watching. I’ll be quiet, I promise.’ David normally loves how soft Matteo’s voice is, but he thinks it’s just a little bit too soft right now. It almost sounds a bit sad, and David hates to think he might be the cause of it, acting as shifty as he is. 

He gives him a real smile this time, putting everything in it, no holding back. He climbs back on the bed, putting the laptop in-between the two of them, trying to be subtle about it. ‘Are you sure? We can watch something else, I know it’s not the most interesting.’ 

But Matteo vehemently shakes his head at that suggestion. ‘No, no, watch.’ He takes a look at his phone, before turning back to David. ‘Actually, are you hungry? I could make us some pasta or something?’

David’s heard about his pasta-making skills, from the boy himself, but also from their friends. Even Leonie and Amira had attested to it, which is proof enough for David. ‘Yeah, sure. That would be nice.’ 

‘Okay’, Matteo jumps up, with enthusiasm he doesn’t often show. ‘You watch your movie, I’ll be back.’ 

David settles in, turning the movie back about ten minutes and pays real attention this time. 

When Matteo comes back with two steaming plates, there’s only about twenty minutes left. Matteo settles in next to him and keeps quiet until the very end, all the while looking a mixture of cocky and embarrassed whenever David compliments the pasta. 

This time, David wants to kiss him for another reason entirely.

***

It all comes to a head one night. David should have seen it coming, should’ve known one day he wouldn’t be able to hide it all anymore. 

He used to deal with his problems by running away, and in a way that’s still what he’s doing, except it’s not as effective because there’s something about Matteo that just won’t let him leave all the way. Like an invisible string pulling him back in when he gets too far. 

He doesn’t even want to run from him, is the thing, and he’s not strong enough to force himself to like he usually is. Too scared to jump into the water, too weak to leave the cliff he’s standing on, so now he’s just looking out over the edge into Matteo’s ocean eyes, poisoning the breeze on his skin and in the end not only hurting himself, but hurting Matteo, too, every time he acts distant.  

He’s stuck, though, can’t move, no matter how much he wants to, feels that he’s overstaying his welcome where he is. 

It’s the two of them again, which has been happening more and more the longer their friendship lasts. They’ve come to be referred to as matteoanddavid by their friends, which David doesn’t mind, although it does unfurl something hot in his stomach, that tells him it’s not enough, both what he’s doing and what they are. 

They’re playing video games this time, and Matteo has just taken out the weed. It’s getting worse, is the thing. At first, David would get overwhelmed with the urge to touch when Matteo did something particularly cute, said something sweet, something funny. He was able to ignore it then, mostly, still able to look away when he felt it coming up. He can’t anymore. 

It’s come to the point where everything Matteo does, is reason for David’s insides to riot. He’s not even doing anything, just lighting the joint between his lips and setting up Mario Kart, but David is already panicking. 

It’s too hot, too much, too little. He can’t do this today. 

It feels wrong fishing his phone out of his pocket, pretending to read a message on the screen. Feels awful, painful almost, turning to Matteo and telling him his sister needs him and he needs to go now. He hates lying to him, that sweet boy who’s never hurt David in any way he could control, but whom David keeps pushing away, keeps on being the reason his smile slips and his eyes lose some of their light. 

He’s up before he has the time to take in everything about Matteo’s reaction, and is already in his hat and shoes, with jacket in hand in the hallway when Matteo joins him. 

‘David, wait. Please, wait.’

David inhales, exhales, clutches his jacket tightly between his fingers and turns around to face him. ‘Yeah?’

For a moment, Matteo doesn’t speak, just stands there looking a little bit sad and a lot beautiful. ‘Why are you avoiding me?’ He says, then, finally, and lets out a breath of air right after like just saying those words took a lot out of him. 

David hates that he can’t stop lying. ‘Avoiding you -- Matteo, I really need to go.’ 

‘God, David, I’m not that stupid. I can tell when someone doesn’t want to spend time with me.’ And that’s officially enough to make David break character, at least a little bit because he’ll do anything before he’ll let someone call Matteo stupid, especially he himself.

‘You’re not stupid at all, Matteo.’ 

‘Then why are you acting like I won’t see what you’re doing?’ He doesn’t quite sound choked up, but there’s a thread of breath running through his voice, so fragile David thinks it’ll break if he moves, so he stands very still. 

Matteo’s always been so brave. God, he -- 

He’s too scared to take the plunge and let Matteo know how he’s feeling, because he doesn’t want to lose him, doesn’t want to feel that rejection. He’s been slowly losing him this way, too, though, and suddenly he can’t stand hurting him anymore. He’d rather be hurting himself because Matteo turns him down, which he’ll do gently, he knows this if nothing else, than to have to hurt Matteo cruelly, the only way he knows how to.

So. He hangs the jacket back in its place. He takes a breath. Looks into the gentle waves in Matteo’s eyes. ‘Do you know what basorexia means?’ 

Matteo frowns at that, understandably. David would roll his eyes at himself in his place. ‘What?’ 

‘It means -- ‘ He takes another breath. ‘It means ‘the overwhelming desire to kiss’.’ 

Matteo’s still frowning in confusion, but there’s something else in his eyes now, too, a spark of something lighter, hope or something close enough. ‘Okay?’

David looks just right of Matteo’s face when he says what comes next, like not clearly seeing his reaction might lessen the blow. ‘It means I want to kiss you. It means I like you and sometimes you do things that make me want to kiss you, but I can’t, so I leave because I’m scared and overwhelmed.’

Silence. David dares shifting his eyes a millimeter to the left, just enough to look at Matteo, and then when he sees he looks. Happy? straight at him. He’s blinking rapidly and rubbing his face with one hand. ‘You want to kiss me?’, he asks, and this time a smile is breaking through the clouds of David’s fears. 

David nods.

It’s quiet again for a moment. And then: ‘Why don’t you?’

David can’t have heard that right. ‘What?’ 

‘You heard me.’ 

‘What do you mean?’ Because he has to be sure. 

‘It means I want you to kiss me, you dumbass! I like you, too.’ 

He’s been waiting months for this, holding it all in, so now that he’s allowed, it’s impossible to keep his body from rapidly going to stand right in front of Matteo. They’re both giggling at this point, which doesn’t make for the best circumstances when David puts one hand on Matteo’s cheek and the other on his neck, and kisses him. 

There’s no fireworks or eruption of golden light beneath his eyelids. Matteo’s lips are chapped against his and the giggling hinders them from doing anything serious. But it’s perfect. It’s perfect because it’s them and as simple as it is, it might be the best thing David’s ever experienced. He doesn’t want to ever stop, doesn’t think he can physically get himself to right now. 

He’s still giggling when they pull back, and he buries his face in Matteo’s shoulder, wanting to feel him as close to him as possible. ‘You don’t know how long I’ve been wanting to do that’, he says against it. 

‘I’ve wanted to since Leonie introduced us at that coffee shop. I thought you were the most handsome boy I’d ever met.’ 

David looks up again, not laughing anymore, but overcome with too many feelings to name them all. Matteo had once told him he always feels like his chest is overflowing with emotions and that sometimes it’s easier to just shut it all off by smoking or drinking or sleeping, because sometimes it’s so much he can’t think. David wonders if this is how he feels like then, and it makes him want him even more because it’s been three minutes and David is already at his limit. 

He pulls Matteo in, kissing him again, properly this time, putting it all in that kiss. The ocean water is warm all around him and he doesn’t need to breathe, doesn’t think he’ll ever need to breathe again as long as he has this.

[dreamcatcherfication]

Welcome to the Murder House - Amateur Detectives

Bet you guys weren’t expecting this, huh? Well I still wanted to get a daily fic out and this is the only thing I have written that’s good enough to go out right now. I’m really trying to get back on schedule, and I don’t want to rapid fire these parts out, so hopefully I’ll be getting back to requests soon. But for now, please enjoy part two of Murder House! It’s a relatively short chapter, but things kick off real quickly.  I’m getting you guys hooked on the plot before I start implementing a posting schedule. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, it’s 2 AM and my brain is the equivalent of a potato.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Talk of death, typical high school swearing/insults, dead bodies

Part 1

“Holy shit, Christina Denmark?” Anne gasped.

Frantically nodding Cathy tried to regain her breath. “The freshmen were having an assembly and one of the cops was there. She left her radio, so Mr. Wolsey asked me to take it back to the station. I was tuning in to some of the police chatter, and they started talking about Christina and -” her voice cut off. Cathy’s hands were shaking as her breathing fluctuated.

All four of the girls knew Christina Denmark, whether it was personally or socially. She had almost dated Henry after he and Jane had broken up, but she managed to escape that terrifying reality. She and Anna had been friends at one point, but that was only through the strands of popularity. “Christina,” Anna started, but she couldn’t get the words out.

“Is this for real?” Kit asked, her previous anger at Anne forgotten.

Nodding, Cathy pulled out the police radio from her bag. “I have the radio right here.”

“Well you know what we have to do,” Anne said seriously. Her gaze was set directly on the radio.

“We investigate,” Cathy finished for her.

Neither Kit nor Anna seemed on board with the idea. “Investigate a possible murder? Guys, we aren’t Scooby Doo characters,” Anna chuckled nervously. She didn’t like how serious Anne and Cathy seemed. With Anne’s thirst for adventure mixed with Cathy’s need for answers, things could only end badly. 

“Yes, but we know Christina. The police aren’t going to tell anyone about this until things get serious,” Cathy explained. “This is our only chance to help find her.”

Shuffling her feet, Kit was unconvinced. “But we’re high school kids. If she’s missing, it could be kidnappers, murderers, any kind of criminal. Do we really want to get involved in that?”

“But we can help! We know Christina better than those cops. Besides, we are high school kids,” Anne spoke with wonder dripping from her voice. “That means we know how Christina acts. If she ran away, we’ll be able to trace her better than anyone else.”

Anna and Kit were still hesitant to agree. It was Cathy who won Anna over. “If there’s anything we can do to figure this out, it’s the right thing to do. We can take action that the police won’t. Shouldn’t we be obligated to do what we can?”

Something inside of Anna switched, and suddenly she was agreeing with Cathy and Anne. “Alright, let’s do it.”

Kit looked at her in surprise. “Anna! You’re agreeing to help them meddle in a missing persons case, possibly a murder investigation? You realize how illegal that is.”

“Kit,” Anne put her hand on her cousin’s shoulder, all ill will forgotten. “Do you want to see Christina dead?”

“No…”

“We can help find her! You won’t get hurt, and you’ll be helping someone. Isn’t that the right thing to do?” Anne was firm on her decision to help find Christina, and she would do anything to convince Kit to come with them.

Biting her lip, Kit relented. “Okay. But if things get bad…”

“We’ll back out,” Anna promised. “All of us.” She glanced at Cathy and Anne who reluctantly agreed to Anna’s terms. “Well then. Cathy? Where do we start?”

Kit did not like this one bit. She expected to be going to Christina’s house and interviewing her family, not trekking through the middle of the woods. But of course Cathy’s police scanner told them that the police suspected her body to be hidden in the woods, so that’s where they went. Anne seemed far too excited for someone searching for a body, but none of the girls tried to damper her mood. “This is like a real life episode of Luther, isn’t it,” Anne commented, hopping over a fallen tree.

“I guess. If you ignore the fact that he’s a detective and we’re a bunch of high schoolers,” Anna cheekily replied. 

Rolling her eyes, Anne stuck out her tongue at Anna. “Okay, I get it, we aren’t qualified to be searching for Christina. But guess what?”

“What?” Cathy murmured, unaware that Anne was being rhetorical.

“We’re doing it anyway,” Anne replied, snapping her fingers. “So let’s get a move on.” The four of them continued their walk, silence settling around them.

“Everyone quiet,” Cathy whispered, freezing in place. The others followed suit, their anxiety levels spiking at Cathy’s sudden apprehensiveness. “Do you hear that?” she whispered again.

Attentively, the four girls tuned into the sounds of the woods around them. Cathy was right, there was a strange sound. It sounded almost like… footsteps. Immediately crouching down, the girls shared terrified looks. Whoever they were listening to could very well be Christina’s kidnappers/killers. As the noise got louder, Anne picked up a large branch and held it like a bat. The footsteps got closer and closer until the girls were holding their breaths in anticipation.

“Ah!” Anne screamed, jumping out and holding her branch at the ready.

“AH!” Came the terrified voices of Catherine de Aragon and Jane Seymour as they jumped back in fear. The six girls were all at varying levels of stress as they recovered from the scare. “What the hell was that Boleyn?” Catherine demanded angrily.

“So you’re Christina’s killers!” Anne accused.

The girls in question stared at her in confusion. “What?” Jane asked incredulously. “Christina’s killers - why would we kill Christina? Why would you think Christina’s dead?”

Cathy held up her radio. “Police scanner,” she answered.

“Why are you out in the woods?” Anne stepped closer, her eyes narrowed. “Come to dispose of the body?”

“What are you even talking about?” Catherine threw her arms up in exasperation. 

Anna stepped forward, less suspicious than Anne but still confused. “The police are saying that Christina Denmark is missing, and they think she’s dead.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Oh my gosh, that’s terrible.”

“We know,” Cathy agreed. “They suspect that the killer would’ve dropped her body in these woods. If she’s dead.”

“And you think we’re the killers?” Catherine put a hand on her hip.

“No!” Kit jumped in. “We were just scared, that’s all.”

Still wary, Anne lowered her branch. “You haven’t told us why you’re out here yet.”

“We volunteer at a local science research facility,” Jane started.

Kit’s eyes widened. “That’s so cool.”

“It really is Kat,” Catherine smiled at her. Anne shot a scathing glare at Catherine and moved subtly in between the two seniors and her cousin.

“The scientists asked us to get samples from the river further back that way,” Jane pointed behind them. “That’s why we’re here.” Curious, Kit started to make her way around the others and move towards where Jane had pointed.

While most of the girls seemed satisfied with the answer, Anne refused to let it go. “I don’t trust you two.”

“Then don’t trust us Anne,” Catherine sighed.

Cathy and Anna moved next to each other and watched the standoff. “Do you think Anne’s going to rage at them?” Cathy glanced at Anna before turning her attention back to the three girls.

Anna shook her head. “No, Anne’s more controlled than we give her credit for.”

“You say that after she blew up twice in two days.”

“True,” Anna shrugged. “But she’s far more interested in finding Christina than starting an argument with these two.”

A scream broke them away from their conversation. All five girls whipped their heads around, searching for Kit, the one who screamed. Rushing through the trees, they came upon Kit’s frozen form. Anna was the first one at her side. “Kit what’s -” she didn’t get to finish her sentence.

Because there at Kit’s feet was the dead body of Christina Denmark.

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

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[livralph]

Two hours of peace

Simon

Baz has his face pressed into my stomach. We’re on the sofa in the living room which the rest of his family almost completely neglects— Daphne doesn’t like the kids going in here because the furniture is all too expensive to be damaged. Baz said that she’d be okay with the two of them being in there because he was careful and even though I’m really not he said Daphne doesn’t know me well enough to know that. I think everyone knows me well enough to know I could shatter a styrofoam cup just by looking at it.

There’s a chance Baz is asleep. We’ve been lying on this sofa for an hour and he’s barely moved since we sat down. Or, since I sat down with my my legs across the sofa, and he dropped on top of my legs. Eventually, he ended up laying between them. With his face shoved into my stomach. It can’t be comfortable. His arms are pushing into his chest and my legs at odd angles, and I’m not entirely sure how easy it can be for him to breath given that his nose feels smushed into me.

I can’t hear anyone but him. The house is huge though, so I’m not surprised. When we left everyone they were in the kitchen, at the opposite end of the house. Fiona and Malcom had started gently arguing, Daphne was trying to feed her youngest children, and Mordelia looked like she wanted to leave as soon as she could. It’s not like I can say something about that though because, as much as I like Baz’s family, they’re a lot. He dragged me out the second Fiona raised her voice a little above a whisper and Mordelia jumped in with whatever opinion she had on the situation. I think maybe Baz lied when I asked how old she was. No seven year old I’ve met before has known literally anything about politics— but I’ve mostly only met Normal kids. And this family is as far from Normal as it gets.

Before he sat with me — on me — Baz waved his wand towards a docking station in the corner and used thank you for the music to get it to play whatever it was that was already lined up. He doesn’t like ABBA. I said as much but he just mumbled something about them being useful. When the soundtrack for Mama Mia! started playing I nearly laughed. Baz just huffed and dropped onto the sofa with me.

My hands have been sat awkwardly at my sides for the entire hour we’ve been sat doing nothing, and I’m starting to get a little bit restless. Even though my wings are stretched out behind me as limply as I can hold them and I’m trying not to flap them and break anything, it’s not like I can trust myself. It’s impossible for me to stay still for very long now. Penny thinks that it’s because I can’t use my magic at the moment and that because I had so much that was constantly bubbling to the surface I technically was never doing absolutely nothing. Now that’s not happening I find it harder to stay still. Apparently. Penny thinks so.

I move my hands to Baz’s hair, running my fingers through it carefully so that I have something to do with them. So that I don’t accidentally knock the vase on the sideboard behind me onto the floor and break it. Fingers don’t catch a single knot. After a few minutes I mostly stop moving my hand out of annoyance. Even if I brushed my hair ten times a day there it would still be impossible to get a brush straight through it. Also, it’s not like I’m a very gentle person, and I don’t want to wake him up. He hasn’t been sleeping much, and I keep waking up in the middle of the night only to see he’s stood next to his open window looking out. One of my fingers is still softly twirling a strand of hair around it, hopefully too softly for him to feel it.

He stirs a little bit in my lap, face pressing against my stomach harder than it had been and also leaning his head back into one of my hands a little. Baz twists around to look at me and I sigh deeply. He pouts a little bit and copies my sigh. “Why did you stop?” I can hear the pout as he speaks. It’s even more pronounced in his voice than it is on his face.

“Thought you were asleep.”

“I’m never asleep.” His hand reaches up and holds mine against his head to coax me into moving it again.

“You’re like a cat.” I think this a lot. He does act like a cat. The fact that he pretended to hate me and acted like I was the worst person in the world when he was actually obsessed with me only backs it up. One of the homes I went to had a cat, which is how I know they’re weird like that. She scratched my hand when I was trying to give her attention, then when I didn’t she followed me around meowing.

“Cats are evil, Snow.” My hand is back to stroking Baz’s hair, trying to run my fingers through it even though most of it is now wedged between in his head and my stomach. My thumb gently brushes against his cheekbone. It almost seems like he leans into the touch.

I think I’m smiling at him. Have I been smiling at him the whole time? There’s a chance I have. All I’ve done for an hour is watch him as he rested on my stomach while he apparently wasn’t sleeping. Penny says I’m always smiling at him now, but I always say it’s not true. We barely spend time actually together now. He’s at Watford, I’m at Penny’s or Agatha’s. Even if all the while I am thinking about being at Watford with him. “You’re evil.” I retort, cupping his cheek in my hand. This time he is definitely pressing his face into it.

“Maybe.” Then he shrugs, which is awkward from the way he’s lying and somehow his hair ends up caught under him in the motion and we have to move away from each other so that he can sort it out. My legs are still on the sofa, and he’s kneeling between them. Baz uses a hair tie on his wrist to pull back the shoulder length hair in to a bun. It’s horrifically messy, and I can already tell half of it must be still falling out over the back of his neck. Usually he’d look in the mirror and fix it, but he just rearranged himself to have his legs either side of mine then falls heavily against my chest. Somehow he manages to push his arms to be hugging me around the middle and I want to laugh. Baz is not clingy.

“You’re being weird.” I say, allowing his head to tuck under my chin and wrapping my arms around him.

He digs his nails into the base of where my wings join to my back, where his finger tips ended up resting. Not so hard, just enough that it twinges for the second he holds them there. When he loosens his grip again the feeing is gone. “I feel weird. Constantly. The house is too full.” The house isn’t full. There are nine people in it and it could fit a bit over twenty five. I’ve been in care homes with this many people in that barely had room for seven. I don’t say anything though. “I just want to be somewhere with you.”

I tense up at his words. Not on purpose; my stomach dropped and my body just sort of followed suit. It wasn’t in a bad way. It was in a way that felt very much like I couldn’t exactly process the words.

“Sorry.” He mutters, pressing his nose up against my neck softly, touching it to my pulse point. His lips brush my Adam’s apple and I swallow. What time is it? We’ve been here an hour and Daphne was feeding the youngest three. So maybe there’s another hour left until we collect our food from the kitchen.

“We’re alone now.” I point it out even though he knows. We’re alone and mostly will be until tomorrow when Baz has to take Mordelia on her daily walk and listen to her talk about how annoying the youngest three are when she can’t leave the house. Baz keeps saying that his siblings barely leave the house anyway. I’m beginning to think she sees him as more of an older cousin or cool uncle than she does a brother who she can irritate. I’m also not going to point out that’s it’s a little bit ironic that she annoys her older brother while complaining about her younger siblings annoying her. Baz sits further back on my thighs and looks at me.

“I suppose, it’s just... I can live with my family. Three out of four of my siblings are barely sentient, the fourth I actually get on with. Daphne is lovely— too lovely really, I don’t understand her.” He scrunches his nose up in this way that makes him pull a face that I really, really should not find ridiculously attractive, but I do. Everything he does is so gorgeous, even the horrible faces he pulls. Thinking about it, I probably like it because they’re the faces he’d always make back at Watford when we were just roommates who hated each other . “My father just doesn’t talk about uncomfortable subjects, which I can live with, and Fiona does nearly nothing but talk about those subjects, which I can also live with.”

I want to smooth the crease that’s left between his eyebrows after he’s finished. I lift my hands and tangle one in his hair already loosening hair, using the other to brush away the sharp expression on his face. “What about me?” We’ve spent basically seven and a half years sharing a room. I know I’m terrible. We’re sharing a room and a bed most nights even though there’s a room set up for me next door to Baz’s. I had been going to sleep in there but I’d wake up with Baz in the bed too so I’ve started just going to sleep in his room.

Baz sighs deeply and rests his forehead on mine gently, pressing our noses together a little bit at he does. Then his kisses me. Three times. On the lips. Holding my face in his hands. “You’re messy. You watch me eat my food. I put clothes out to wear the next day and then when I wake up you’re wearing them. You hog the duvet. You freak out about the wraiths. My whole family adores you. You don’t pick up your clothes off the bathroom floor. You use two in one shampoo and conditioner.” Every single word sounds condescending and exasperated. Each sentence is punctuated by a kiss to my lips. It’s weird, because even if the way he’s saying the words is normal, the affection they’re being wrapped in is not what would usually accompany what he’s saying, and— Baz is not usually one for bursts of affection. Not ones like this at least. And now it’s me sighing, but because he’s holding one of the gentle kisses longer than the rest.

“Right.” I mumble. I don’t know where he’s going with this. Maybe he isn’t going anywhere and he’s done talking and will now flop back onto my chest and pretend to sleep until Daphne comes to find us so we can take our food up to our room.

“I wouldn’t have it another way, Simon.” He mumbles, a few inches away from my face, but not close enough to feel the breath from his words. I want him to kiss me again. I want him to talk between kisses and make me laugh and make everything feel normal again because it’s been so, so long since things felt normal between us. They never really did and I just want them to. His hands are pushing through my curly hair that is too long, coming across a few knots which pull, but I ignore it because it’s nice. He’s nice. This is nice.

I kiss him, holding the back of his neck in my hands, thumbing gently across the base up to his hairline. Even after everything, hearing Baz say my first name is an insanely rare thing to happen. It always catches me off guard and I never know what the hell to do when he says it. So I break the kiss and say the first thing that comes into my head. “Tyrannus.” He stares at me. I stare back, trying to keep my face as straight and utterly unamused as his, when a hand hits me over the back of the head. “What the fuck?” I mutter, taking my hand from his hair and rubbing the back of my head gently.

“Merlin and Morgana, Snow. Let us have something nice.” He’s shuffled back away from me. Now he’s sat on my knees. They’re above the tiny gap between the sofa cushions and it’s not comfortable at all. It actually hurts a little bit.

“You called me Simon literally just now.” I try and change the angle my legs are at and Baz sits further back, at the opposite end of the sofa, staring across the room darkly. I curl my legs up to my chest, and look at him. Not everyone has self restraint. “Come back.” I say. Maybe I whined a little bit, but if Baz noticed that he didn’t acknowledge it, just pulled the sleeves of his jumper a little further over his hands. Actually I think it’s my jumper, because it’s an old Watford one which definitely never could have fit him properly. I’m pretty sure his family gets his uniform tailored to fit him perfectly.

“I am not going to come back you complete heathen. You called me Tyrannus.” Baz huffs the words at me, sneering, before also tucking his knees up under his chin and wrapping his arms around his legs and managing to hold the hands with my sleeves over to his face, covering the lower half of it.

I straighten one of my legs out and poke his thigh with my toe. He glares at me for a second but doesn’t do anything else. “You called me Simon.”

“If calling you Simon means that you call my Tyrannus then I am never even going to think of doing it again.” The words are muffled by the sleeves covering his nose and mouth. Baz turns his head to me again but this time doesn’t glare. He’s just... looking.

“I won’t call you it. I don’t even know why I did. Just come back.” I stretch my other leg out towards him and poke his ankle with this one. Baz rolls his eyes but squishes himself between the back of the sofa and my side without saying anything. He wraps his arms around my middle and puts his head is on my shoulder. A few minutes pass in quiet apart from the sound of an ABBA song (I think it’s the one Meryl Streep sings to Amanda Seyfried when she’s upset about her growing up. I don’t know. I’ve seen Mama Mia! once, and it was years ago). Then one of the twins starts screaming from somewhere far off, then the other follows suit.

Baz sighs heavily. I snort. One of his legs hooks over one of mine gently and he kicks my foot with his heel.

“What about Basilton?” I say into his hair.

Baz hums in response, but the sound doesn’t tell me an answer because it’s to neutral. “Just call me Baz.” I can feel his jaw move against my shoulder as he speaks. It might have been to conceal that he was smiling but I could still hear it in his voice.

“But is it better than Tyrannus?”

“Snow, I chose basilton over Tyrannus. What do you think?” This time when he spoke his words were slower and he yawned through the last few words. The drawling tone he tried to use didn’t really come through.

I tilt my head and press my lips to the top of Baz’s head and stay still apart from where my hand has come to rest on his upper arm; my thumb is brushing up and down on the sleeve of his jumper. His breathing has slowed slightly in the time since he spoke so I think he’s actually managed to fall asleep. That’s why I barely whisper my next words; he’s a light sleeper. “What about Basil?”

He presses closer to me, which I don’t think I expected. I definately didn’t expect Baz to be awake enough to reply. A few seconds pass and Baz ends up with his face pressed into my neck again, lying on top of me. “It’s nice, Simon.” I reposition my arms to be around his waist, feeling him fall asleep against me and, after mere minutes, I’m nodding off as well.

[disneysholland]

A Holly Jolly Hoax: Part 2 - t.h.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: Continuation of Part 1...

Part: 2/x

Word Count: 2k

A/N: It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything but I just wanted to get this part up so there may be some typos. Hopefully part 3 will be up sooner than this one:)

A few hours and a few glasses of wine later, Tom and I had gotten to decorating the living room along with one of my aunts and a few of my cousins. 

Luckily, there was complete radio silence from Tara and the rest of her family. Every time they would enter the room with me, they would leave almost immediately.

The rest of the family, on the other hand, were completely charmed by Tom. The ladies had all gathered around, hanging on his every word when he talked about his roles and living in England.

Overall, it was going great, much better than I could have imagined. They were falling for our ruse and they were also getting off my back for not living the life they had imagined I would.

While Tom was telling a story about meeting Robert Downey Jr. for the first time, I took the chance to slip off to the kitchen and grab a couple cookies.

My mom and grandma had spent the afternoon baking our family recipe of sugar cookies and my mouth had been watering ever since smelling them for the first time. In the kitchen, I found my grandma sitting at the table, frosting away.

“Hi Grandma, I’m coming to swipe some cookies,” I smiled, coming to stand next to her.

She gasped, “But I’m not done yet!”

“It’s okay. I just want two, one for me and one for Tom,” I placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Alright, honey. Go right ahead. Take one of these ones though, they don’t look as pretty.”

I giggled, picking up a cookie.

“Have you talked to Tara yet?” she asked, knowingly. 

“Not yet...She keeps avoiding me. Not that I’m complaining...”

“You girls were so close when you were little. Seeing you play together has always been a favorite memory of mine,” she sounded a bit sad.

“Mine too, but things have changed. The situation’s changed,” I shrugged, my eyes trained on the floor.

“That boy of yours seems to make you really happy,” she smiled, sending me a wink.

A smile came to my face, “Yeah, he does. He’s kind of everything I ever wanted in a guy.”

All true. Not a hint of a lie.

“You remind me of me and your grandfather when we were your age. Young and wildly in love. Nothing could keep us from each other.”

She had a longing look in her eyes. My grandfather had passed away a few years ago, leaving a hole in all of our hearts, but especially my grandmother’s. Every time we mentioned him she’d get this sad look in her eyes and kind of disappear for a minute.

“I miss him too,” I reached out, taking her hand in mine.

“Don’t let him go. Tom. He’s yours, I see it in his eyes when he looks at you. Don’t let that boy go.”

I felt the tears rise in my eyes, knowing that he never really would be mine.

“I won’t,” I whispered.

In that moment I realized what I really felt for Tom. It wasn’t just friendship, it wasn’t just a crush...it was love. Real, true love looking me right in the eye and I hadn’t even seen it. How could I be so blind?

Could he feel the same? Is that why he was so quick to say yes to this crazy idea?

“I...should get back to the living room, Tom’ll kill me if I leave him alone for too long,” I let out a fake laugh and quickly turned away, “Thanks for the talk, Grandma.”

Back in the living room, Tom had taken to playing a game with the kids. The sight was enough to fill me with both longing and dread. Why does he have to be so damn perfect? That would make this whole realizing-my-feelings thing so much easier.

“Quick! It’s MJ! You must save her!” My cousin’s son, James, shouted as I walked in the room.

Tom was perched on the edge of the couch in his signature Spider-Man pose.

“I’m coming MJ! Stay right there!” he warned and suddenly jumped off the couch, pretending to swing from buildings.

“I got you MJ!” he said as he reached my side, scooping me up into his arms.

“Oh, Spider-Man. Thank you for saving me,” I said in my best Princess-That-Needs-Saving voice.

“You’re welcome darling, you’re still not safe though, Thanos is still coming!” He then re-positioned me, letting me wrap my legs around his waist.

He then ran across the room, imitating how he would swing through the air. I let out a giggle, hiding my face in his neck.

Then, he sat me down on the couch and turned back towards Maddie, my other cousin’s daughter, who wore a Thanos mask.

“Not this time Thanos!”

Tom pretended to shoot webs out at her and then she finally crumpled to the ground, feigning death.

“Yay! You did it! Spider-Man beat Thanos!”

“Now Spider-Man needs to kiss MJ!” Sarah, another girl said, making kissing motions.

“Ewww,” Maddie groaned.

“You know what, I think Spider-Man should give MJ a kiss,” Tom turned towards me with a wild grin.

Oh God, no. I buried my face in my hands hiding from him.

“Come on, love! It’s just one kiss,” I felt him come closer to me, trying to tug my arms away from my face. This can’t be happening...

"No! Not in front of everyone!”

I put up a good fight but he finally won out and my arms were at my sides. It all happened so fast that I could barely process when his hands came to either side of my face and he placed his lips on mine for the first time.

My arms came up to rest around his neck, almost on instinct, as we eased into the kiss. It was euphoric, the feeling of his lips on mine, even if it only lasted for a few seconds. Though I’d never admit it out loud, this is what I had been dreaming of for a long time.

As soon as we broke away, my eyes met his and I felt something shift between us. All I could do was hope that it wasn’t for the worse. My eyes drifted across his face, trying to read what he was thinking but for once, I couldn’t tell. Did he hate it and absolutely want to run away or the opposite? Did he realize what I had just realized moments before?

"Aww, well aren’t you guys adorable,” my aunt Michelle said as she walked into the living room.

Tom quickly jumped back, moving a few feet away from me and my attention shifted to Michelle.

“Grandma! Tom is Spider-Man so y/n is MJ! He rescued her from Thanos!” Sarah yelled when she noticed her presence.

“Wow! That’s awesome!”

Suddenly, all the kids had engulfed Michelle and were showing her their cool costumes and toys. At that moment, Tom sat down next to me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders.

He then leaned back in, his lips coming dangerously close to my ear.

“It’s just acting, darling,” he whispered, sending chills up my spine.

Yeah, right. Acting. All I could do was nod when I glanced towards him.

“Alright, alright kids. Enough playing around,” Michelle said, laughing and turned back towards us, “I was coming to let you guys know that the food’s here, so lets eat!”

---

“I think that was the most aggravating dinner I’ve ever had in my life,” I sighed, leaning against the back of the bedroom door as I closed it.

“Well, you survived it, so that was a plus,” Tom said as he sat down on the bed.

The entire dinner was spent avoiding the judging gaze of my aunt Barb, Tara, and Carly; and of course dodging the incessant questioning of Tom and I’s relationship. That was the last thing I wanted to talk about, especially with Tom playing it exceptionally well that he was in love with me.

Of course I didn’t have to fake it when I told them of how I first knew I was in love with him or how he made me happier than anyone ever has... Somehow this wonderful plan I had was majorly backfiring on me in the worst way possible.

“I desperately need a shower, don’t watch anything good without me,” I pointed a finger at Tom who had already picked up the TV remote and was flicking the channels around.

He held up his hands in defense and let out a laugh.

I rolled my eyes and made my way into the bathroom, ready to relieve my stress with a warm, comforting shower. 

Fifteen minutes later, I exited the warmth of the bathroom into the cold bedroom. In the time I was gone, Tom had taken it upon his self to make a bed in the floor.

“Tom, I can’t let you sleep on the floor. I invited you, you take the bed.”

He leaned back from his spot on the floor to look at me.

“No, no, no. You should be comfy, I’m not gonna let you sleep on the floor.”

I sighed, taking a minute to think before the following words came out of my mouth.

“Well, then you’re sleeping in the bed with me,” I turned away and started pulling the sheets back.

“Are you sure?” he said softly, still laying on the ground.

I nodded, “I mean, yeah. We’ve slept on couches together before. I trust you.”

“Fine, I guess I can’t fight that,” he said as I was climbing in the bed, “But for the record, the floor was surprisingly comfortable.”

I giggled and rolled my eyes.

“Somehow I don’t believe that.”

A smirk grew across his lips as he picked up the blankets of the ground and joined me in the bed. His shoulder was nearly touching mine, but before I could let myself freak out about it, he turned away, reaching out for the lamp on his bedside table.

“Goodnight, love.”

“Night,” I squeaked out and immediately turned the other way.

It’s definitely going to be an interesting night. How am I supposed to sleep with him right there? It feels awkward and weird even though we’re usually way closer than this.

After a little while of my mind racing, I worked up the courage to flip back over.

“Tom?” I whispered.

“Hmm?” 

“I can’t sleep,” I mumbled.

He sighed and turned over to face me. “Is it about dinner?”

I shrugged, “I guess a little bit. It’s just being in a house with all of these people, it’s wearing me out already. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells, waiting for the other foot to drop. It’s kind of exhausting.”

“Darling, come here,” he said, holding his arms open for me to slide in. I did as he asked and wrapped my arms around his waist, burying my face

“I’ve told you this before and I’ll tell you it again. You are not the opinion of anyone who doesn’t matter. Don’t beat yourself up so much over trying to make them happy. You’re you and you’re amazing the way you are. You’re smart, you’re funny....beautiful and you light up every room you walk in. If they’re too blind to see it then that’s their problem.”

I nodded from the comfort of his chest, not wanting him to see the blush that was growing on my cheeks. I had spent my whole life thinking that no one cared about me or even liked me and here Tom is, telling me the sweetest words. 

“Hey, look at me. Okay?” he said, pulling back slightly.

“Yeah,” I smiled, “Thank you for always knowing the right thing to say.”

He gave me a soft smile back and I tucked myself back into his embrace. For a while we just stayed like that, him rubbing my back and my eyes beginning to flutter closed. It felt nice and all of the awkwardness from earlier had dissipated.

“Tomorrow will be better okay?” he mumbled, continuing the rub comforting circles on my back.

All I could do at that point was nod before I fell off into dreamland.

[ezm-imagines]

truth or dare - peter parker x reader

Pairing: Peter Parker x reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Summary: Liz is having a party, thus the classic game breaks out. But when Peter gets asked a too personal question, you decide to step in.

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

“You’re no fun, Y/N,” Liz huffed as you poured yourself a soda.

“Excuse you, I’m plenty of fun. I just don’t feel like awkwardly walking around a party full of a hundred people I’ve never met.” You could already hear the commotion coming from the other side of the house and it sounded like your worst nightmare.

“I can introduce you!” she insisted, “Please?”

You put a hand on her shoulder, “Liz, no. Thank you for trying, but I’m perfectly happy sitting up in your room watching Netflix.”

“Yeah, but—”

The doorbell rang, and Liz sighed.

“Fine,” she grabbed the drink she’d set down and turned to leave, “But you’ll regret it, Y/N!” she called over her shoulder as she left the room.

"I'm sure I will!" you teased.

You chuckled as you grabbed a cookie from a dessert tray, popping it in your mouth. You loved your cousin, you really did, and you were really glad that she was the one you got to stay with while your parents were out of town this week, but you really weren’t in the mood to go to her party full of students from a school you didn’t go to.

You heard the kitchen door reopen behind you and scoffed, “Liz, I told you, I don’t—“

You turned around and froze as you found not Liz but someone else.

A boy.

A very cute boy.

You swallowed, “Oh... Hi."

Real smooth Y/N.

“Hi,” he choked back. A beat of silence. “I— I came in here to... I was just— I wanted to—”

Finally, he just gave up with a huff and shook the loose ice in his drink to explain it.

You giggled. Okay, maybe you weren’t the only one totally caught off guard by the other's presence.

“What’s your poison?” you questioned, moving around to the back of the drink counter so he could see all the choices.

He stepped forward, meeting you at the opposite side of the counter and clearing his throat, “I- I’m kind of a Pepsi person, I guess... The classics, ya know?”

You scoffed with a giggle, “Ew, you are so wrong.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “Oh? So, what- what do you have, then?”

“Dr. Pepper,” you teased, holding it up, “The superior drink.”

You took a sip with a smile as he chuckled at you. Oh, fuck, you adored that sound.

He pushed the Pepsi liter out of the way and went for the Dr. Pepper, “Fine, but I’m trusting you.”

You smiled to yourself as he poured it, then took a tentative sip.

“Mm,” he nodded, giving it a long taste, “Well, it’s not terrible...”

You chuckled and clinked your Solo Cup to his, “I’ll accept that, cheers.”

He laughed and you bit your lip to hide your grin.

“So... what are you doing in here?” He asked, “Hiding from the crowd?”

You laughed, “Less hiding, more waiting for it to end.”

He furrowed his brow.

“I’m Liz’ cousin. I’m staying with her for the weekend. Although she failed to mention she was going to casually invite over her entire school tonight.”

He chuckled, "Small thing to forget about, huh?”

“You could say that.”

“So... are you planning to join in?”

“Nah,” you shrugged off, “I’m knee deep in the middle of a TV show rewatch that needs my full attention.”

“Oh, what show?”

“Brooklyn 99. Basically the best show on earth.”

“Ah, I see,” he laughed, “Well, if it were any other show, I’d totally suggest you come hang out with the rest of us...” He looked over at you in a small, expectant way that made you realize that was his subtle way of asking you to the party. To see him.

You opened your mouth to reply but were cut off before you could even make a sound.

“Peter!” a voice which you assumed to be Li’z friend MJ called from down the hallway, “Get your butt out here; your assistance is required!”

The boy— Peter, you assumed— blinked before pointing backwards toward the hallway, “Oh, I— I guess I better... go then...”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

He didn’t break his eyes from yours as he took backwards steps out of the kitchen.

That is, he kept eye contact until bumping into the counter, sending the tray of cookies spinning toward the ground. But before you could even try to catch it, he’d already reached out and snatched it from the air, sliding it back on the counter like it was nothing. He looked back over to see the shocked expression on your face as you blinked, still trying to catch up with how quickly he’d done that.

He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, “Yeah, hah, reflexes are kinda my specialty I guess.”

This sputtering, nervous idiot seemed anything but agile; you found yourself smiling at the irony of it. What a dork. What a fucking adorable, agile dork. Oh, God, I’m so fucked.

“Peter!” MJ called again, much more annoyed this time.

“I should... probably... yeah,” he spun around and began heading out of the kitchen.

“I’ll catch you later,” you called after him.

He turned and gave you one last, long smile, before disappearing out of the doorway.

You smiled to yourself, pleased with your interaction. Maybe you could ask Liz for his number later, oh wait-

“Oh, wait, Peter!”

He was back in the doorway in an instant, "Yeah?"

You laughed at his immediacy, “I just wanted to say: I’m Y/N, by the way. In case you wanted to know.”

“Y/N,” he repeated to himself with a smile, “I like it. It suits you.”

“Thanks.”

He gave you one last smile, before a quick nod, and then he was gone again.

You exhaled with a laugh, attempting in vain to slow your racing heartbeat as you headed back towards the stairs.

~~~

“At your service,” you smiled, jumping to the last step in front of Liz.

She took your hand, “Come on, it’s in here.” She led you to a large pile of punch and chips that someone must’ve knocked to the ground in the kitchen. You knew it probably wasn’t Peter, but the image in your mind of him knocking all this over was enough to put a smile on your face.

“Dad will kill me if this stains the floor,” Liz frowned, ripping a few paper towels and kneeling to start cleaning.

“Well, you’ve called the right person. My house has entirely white carpets; I’m basically a master of cleaning at this point.”

“Well, get your ‘master’ ass down here and help, then!”

You laughed before joining her on the ground to help.

The two of you scrubbed for a few minutes, luckily finding the red punch coming up easily.

The noise to the party had gotten considerably louder than it was when you had been down in the kitchen an hour or two earlier. Just as you were finishing, a large group of the party whooped at once.

“What’s going on in there?” you chuckled, throwing the last paper towel into the trash.

“I think they’re playing Truth or Dare. They had just started when I left to clean this up.”

“‘Truth or Dare?’ Are we ten?”

She shrugged, “We were bored! Besides, clearly it’s a good game if everyone’s screaming like that.” She threw her own paper towel away before grabbing your hand, “Come on, let’s go see.”

You knew you should probably put up an argument as to why you should just go back up to her room and finish your episode of Brooklyn 99, but if you were honest, you desperately wanted to see that Peter boy again. You enjoyed the show obviously, but after you’d gone up to watch it after meeting him, he had been all you could think about. To be honest, you were glad to have an excuse to join the party, and to hopefully run into him again.

So, you let her drag you down the hall to the living room without a complaint.

Your eyes widened as you entered the room to find a group of at least sixty people squished into a circle, all yelling and laughing with roarous volumes.

You covered your mouth with a giggle as one boy was wearing a pair of boxers on his head, another wearing nothing but boxers.

Clearly they’d all been having fun out here.

“Alright, my turn!” One boy called out, extending a pointer finger as he scanned the crowd for a victim, “Truth or dare...”

Everyone was waiting to hear who he would call on, until suddenly his finger stopped and he announced, “Peter.”

You gasped quietly as your eyes immediately found the boy you’d been talking to from before, his eyes wide with worry at whatever this boy would make him do. You gathered they probably weren’t very good friends. You also gathered that this other boy was probably a massive asshole.

“Uh, I... truth, I guess,” he stuttered.

The asshole narrowed his eyes, thinking of something. He laughed as an idea clearly sparked into his head, “Penis Parker, are you a virgin?”

The boy blinked, swallowing awkwardly.

“Flash, come on,” MJ called out, “Not cool, dude.”

“What? He picked truth. It’s just a question after all.”

“I...” Peter hesitated.

“I bet you’ve never even had a girlfriend. Or even kissed a girl!”

You looked to Liz who had her brow furrowed with pity. Clearly everyone was not a big fan of this Flash kid. Your estimation of his character was only being proven more accurate by the minute.

“Alright,” you whispered to her, “I’m gonna say something, don’t contradict me.”

“What?” She whispered back.

“Well, he just needs someone to play his girlfriend, right?”

“Well, ye- but... what??”

You turned away from Liz.

“He does have a girlfriend,” you announced over Flash’s continuing taunts.

Everyone’s eyes snapped to you and you felt like you had whiplash from the sudden attention. You swallowed.

“What?” Flash asked.

“Yeah, yeah, we—” your eyes flickered to Peter, who was looking at you with eyes as wide as saucers. You gave him a slight glare, hopefully sending him the message that he was Not Helping.

He seemed to get the message though, clearing his throat and closing his ajar mouth.

“Yeah, well, kinda,” you continued, “We’re not like full-on boyfriend and girlfriend, but we’ve been on a few dates and we’re just seeing where it goes. It’s still pretty new.”

All the eyes in the room turned back to Peter for confirmation and you exhaled, grateful to have the attention back off of you.

“Yeah, yeah...” Peter agreed, simply, clearly uneasy with all the eyes on him again.

“Then how’d you meet?” Flash pressed, “I’ve never seen you before.”

“Liz introduced us.”

Everyone turned to Liz beside you.

“Uh,” she looked to you, “Actually, yeah, I had been thinking about introducing you two for months,” she said slowly, giving you a curious look that made you realize she was actually being honest. That made you smile. Liz knew you well enough to know that you would’ve like Peter. “So, then I finally just... set them up together... last... week.” Liz coughed.

You could almost laugh. Liz and Peter were terrible at this.

“Yup. And that’s how it started. Great, now that’s answered, next question!” You rushed.

Peter was just staring at you, still in shock from what had just happened.

“‘s your turn buddy,” MJ knocked his elbow softly, helping you out by pushing the game away from this topic.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, um, right. Sorry...” he hesitated for a moment before looking back at you, “Y/N?”

You blinked. He was asking you?? What was he trying to do???

“T- truth?” Your eyes flickered to Liz, trying to see if she knew where he was going with this.

“You said we’ve been on a few dates but we aren’t boyfriend/girlfriend yet. Would... would you like to be?”

Your eyes widened and you stood up straighter with surprise, looking around with a breathy laugh.

“Oooooooooh,” the room cooed.

You were looking between Liz and Peter and even MJ, still shocked by the question.

Liz knocked your shoulder, “Well, answer him Y/N!” she whispered.

You looked back to Peter, who was looking at you with hope and nerves and fuck it was adorable.

“Yeah,” you answered finally- honestly.

The whole room cheered and whooped, and you covered your face with your hands with a breathy laugh, embarrassed at the fact that fifty strangers had just witnessed your romantic life play out before them all.

Jesus Christ.

Once the room quieted down, you hurriedly gave MJ a dare and fled the room as soon as it was her turn to ask someone else. God, this is why I don’t go to parties ever.

It was only when you returned to the solace of the empty kitchen that you felt like you could catch your breath finally.

"That was quite the show," Liz laughed, following right behind you.

"Shut up," you groaned.

"Okay, seriously though, spill: what was all that about? Why on earth would you do that for a stranger?"

"I don't know! He seemed nice! Anyone would've done it..."

Liz put a hand on her hip.

Yeah. You’d never been able to get a lie past Liz in your life.

"Fine," you looked away, "He and I might've... talked for a little while in the kitchen."

"'Talked?'" She raised one eyebrow.

You crossed your arms, "Fine, there maybe was a teensy bit of flirting..."

Liz squealed, "I knew it! Oh my god, Y/N, I can't believe it. He was literally the reason I wanted you to come to the party! I knew you two would totally hit it off! He is so your type."

"Oh, shut up," you laughed, knocking her playfully.

"And, if I know Peter, you are totally his type, too."

You smiled to yourself, "Really?"

"Oh, completely. He was just saying last week how--"

"Hey."

You two turned to the kitchen doorway to find the boy in question himself.

"Oh, dang, I just realized," Liz said suddenly, not even bothering to hide how obviously fake her excuse was about to be, "I promised MJ that I was going to be in the living room at this exact minute..." she looked at the clock, "11:17. Yup, on the dot. That's my cue."

You rolled your eyes as she nodded a goodbye for Peter and sped towards the hallway. She stopped once she was behind him and gave you a dramatic thumbs up. You shook your head with a smile, as Peter turned around only to catch her running away.

"Sorry about that," you laughed, "She can be a little... dramatic."

"I think I'm the one who should apologize," Peter rubbed the back of his neck, "I'm sorry you got all wrapped up in that..."

"I'm not," you replied, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

His eyebrows rose slightly in surprise.

"So, you got a turn to ask me truth or dare, but I never got a turn to ask you," you changed the subject, sliding up to sit on the island counter he was standing next to, "I think I'm due."

"Oh, are you?" He chuckled, moving to stand in front of you.

"Yup. So, truth or dare?"

"We are not playing this game again..."

"Truth or dare?"

Peter closed his eyes and sighed, "Alright, whatever, truth."

You hesitated for a moment, staring into his beautiful dark eyes as they focused back on you, "Was it true?"

He furrowed his brow, "Was what true?"

"Was it true what that guy... Flash, or whatever... was saying? You've never kissed anyone?"

His eyes fell from your gaze and he pulled at his sleeve a little, "Umm... I...” he sighed, relenting, “Yeah, it... is."

You smiled a little, before reaching forward and taking his hand in yours, "Okay."

His eyes met yours again, large and hopeful. Your smile grew a little wider, mirroring him, and you watched as his eyes fell to your lips.

"Truth or dare?" he mumbled.

You scanned his eyes for a moment before grinning, "Dare."

"Kiss me."

You froze for a moment, your lungs unmoving like they didn’t know how to function, like they’d never even learned.

He swayed closer to you, and you hesitated for a moment before just leaning in and capturing his lips against yours.

It was short- an exhilarating peck to test the waters, the two of you pulling back pretty quickly.

You both stared at each other breathlessly, before he leaned back in and kissed you again. You smiled against his lips, moving your hand into his hair and moving yourself closer to him to-

You gasped in surprise as you lost your balance from the edge of the counter and tipped off.

Peter spun over, his arms catching you effortlessly before any part of you could even graze the ground. You giggled, wrapping your hands around his neck for support.

“Like I said,” he smiled down at you, “Good reflexes.”

You grinned as he leaned down to kiss you again.

Yeah, Brooklyn 99 could toooootally wait.

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

BONUS:

"Damnit!” A voice surprised you, taking you out of the kiss. You separated, looking over to see who had interrupted you.

You frowned when you saw it was that asshole Flash guy again.

"I was positive you two were lying about being a couple," Flash grumbled as he grabbed a handful of cookies from the tray and stomped back out, "Fuck you, Parker, you always ruin everything."

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

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[afterglowparker]

Chúc Mừng Năm Mới

Pairing: Peter Parker x Vietnamese!Reader

Word Count: 1,967

Warnings: None!! It’s all fluff!! And you get to learn a bit more about the Vietnamese culture!

Summary: You share one of your favorite holidays with your boyfriend, Peter Parker.

A/N: I want to start off by saying: chúc mừng năm mới! In other words (English): happy new year! If you weren’t already aware, this past Tuesday we celebrated Vietnamese New Year/Chinese New Year/Lunar New Year. As today would technically be the third day of celebrating, it is for that reason I have decided to post today: it’s the day to celebrate with friends! I am so excited to share this piece with you, as the New Year is always one of my favorite times of the year. Additionally, I just never get to see Asian readers represented in fics! I hope you enjoy this piece!

*It is important for me to say that what I have written in this story is based off my own experiences and family traditions. Everyone celebrates the New Year in their own way; this will not be a perfect representation of all the families that celebrate this wonderful holiday!

**Also tumblr decided to try me and gave me trouble when I tried to post it the first time. It then deleted it. :’) So hopefully this still came out good.

“So this Tuesday is Tết, in other words, it’s Vietnamese New Year. It’s usually celebrated over three days, but my family just celebrates the first day. The other two are for extended family and friends, respectively, so to speak.”

You had been explaining the upcoming celebration, since Peter had been curious as to why your Mom had been baking up a storm in the kitchen when he arrived at your apartment to study for your upcoming biology test. Currently, you both were sat across from each other on your bed, textbooks and notes spread all around you, as you worked through the study guide. You were leaning against the headboard of your Queen sized bed as Peter was hunched over slightly, his legs crossed and his left elbow resting on his knee so he could support his head. He had been asking you questions for the past five minutes.

“But the Calendar says Chinese New Year?” Peter replied, confusion written across his face.

“Well, they’re celebrated on the same day. More than just the Chinese celebrate the New Year. Some people call it Lunar Year to be more inclusive of everyone celebrating. My family just prefers to call it Vietnamese New Year.”

Peter nodded along as you spoke and you could practically see the questions popping up behind his eyes in that busy mind of his.

“So why is your mom baking everything on a Saturday?”

“Well, it’s harder to get the entire family together on a Tuesday, what with work and all the cousins who are in school. It’s just easier to celebrate tomorrow. Plus, it’s Super Bowl Sunday, so the Uncles will have something to occupy themselves with.”

“That’s cool…what else does your family usually do to celebrate?”

“You certainly are inquisitive today,” you spoke with a soft smile on your lips, “I don’t know. The usual I guess. We eat food, drink, play games…the Uncles get the bros back together to be bros while all the Aunts talk about life and their kids. The cousins usually just go to a room and hangout. There’s also firecrackers. OH AND RED ENVELOPES. I don’t know how I almost forgot that, especially since that’s a pretty big thing for us. The younger kids in particular are big fans of them. ”

“Why?”

“Cuz they have money in them. In my family we receive the envelopes so long as we are going to school.”

“Oh, that’s actually really cool…” Peter trailed off. You turned the page in your textbook, thinking Peter was done with his inquiries, but as you went to ask him a question, he cut you off before you could speak. “Okay but does the envelope mean anything? Like specifically? Cuz you said red. Why can’t I get like…a blue envelope or something?”

Had anyone but Peter been asking you as many questions you might have been annoyed, but you also didn’t mind sharing about your culture.

“Well, red symbolizes good luck. The elders give the red envelopes to the younger kids as a way of wishing them well-wishes, so to speak, for the New Year. In return, we wish them well-wishes too. Y’know. They wish us a happy new year and for us to have wealth, health, good grades…We wish them a happy new year and health and happiness…stuff like that.”

“I like that.” Peter said, looking at you thoughtfully. You tapped the pen in your hand against your lips before speaking up again.

“Would you like to come with me to my Aunt’s house to celebrate the New Year with my family?”

Peter’s eyes lit up as he sat up, his back straightening from his hunched position.

“Really? You’d want me to come with?”

“Well, yeah. I was gonna ask before, but I wasn’t sure if you’d wanna go, what with it being a family event full of members of my family you’ve never met before. That can be a bit daunting. Plus my family can be overwhelming.” You finished with a laugh.

“Y/N, I would love to go with you. As long as you’re okay with that and so is your family, I want to celebrate with you! It’s part of your culture and part of who you are. And I love you. So I want to learn and be familiar with every single thing that makes you, you.”

The soft smile that had been present on your face through the duration of your conversation stretched to reach your eyes. Leaning forward, you gripped the collar of Peter’s grey pullover in your right hand, pulling him closer to place a kiss on his lips.

“Have I ever mentioned how much I love you?”

-

“Y/N, aren’t we gonna be late?” Peter questioned, looking at his phone with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around your shoulder, which showed him that it was already close to 2pm; you said the party was supposed to start then.

“Oh, no we’re fine. No one actually shows up on time. We’ll all probably be there around 3-3:30.”

“Really? That’s kinda late. Why don’t you guys just say the party is at that time then?”

“Cuz then no one would show up until like 4-4:30. It’s just the way my family is, Peter,” You glanced up at him and placed a kiss on his cheek, “don’t worry, we’re fine time-wise.”

-

True to your word, you were strolling up to your Aunt’s house, hand-in-hand, about an hour later. On your way to the door, Peter noticed a tree decorated with envelopes, which he promptly asked you to explain.

“Later, we are gonna get to choose an envelope from the tree. Just a little extra luck.”

Pausing before ringing the doorbell, you turned to speak to Peter.

“You ready to meet the rest of my obnoxious family?”

Peter smiled and brought your hand up to his lips, so he could press a kiss to your knuckles.

“Don’t worry, babe, your entire family is gonna love me,” Peter said feigning confidence, his act not as strong as he had hoped.

“You nervous?”

“Terrified.”

You squeezed his hand and leaned up on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t worry, you’re right. They will.”

Turning back around, your rang the doorbell and soon enough, you were greeted by the face of one of your Aunts, who quickly opened the door and ushered Peter and you inside.

Immediately, Peter began to take his shoes off, remembering the unspoken rule you had in your own home, and took note of all of your family members crammed into the house. Peter remembered you mentioning you had a large family, but this was so much more than he imagined---a definite change from just May and him. You dragged Peter around the room, greeting your various family members, being sure to find your Grandma first. You bowed and gave your Grandma a hug while greeting her, as was tradition---Peter quick to follow your actions of bowing. You smiled, loving the effort he was making to be respectful and absorb the different aspects of your culture. Continuing through the room, you introduced the remaining family members to your boyfriend, who would give them an uneasy smile and try his best to make small talk. Your Aunts and cousins poked fun of him, as if he was family---they had quickly warmed up to him.

-

You had been explaining the different foods Peter pointed to, as he insisted on trying everything. So far you had worked your way through bánh hỏi, bún riêu, the pineapple buns, the egg custards, bánh bèo---at which point you explained to Peter what nước chấm was. He was not fond of the idea.

“Fish sauce?! You just pour it on top?” His nose was slightly wrinkled and you laughed.

“Trust me, it tastes really good. You don’t even think about the fact that what your eating is covered in fish sauce.”

Your family always had a widespread of food, making sure that everyone would be full and happy on the joyous occasion.

“And what’s this?”

“Uh…chicken alfredo pasta from Costco?” You laughed as Peter’s face filled with a blush, “And before you ask, the tray that my mom brought is full of cupcakes, and the tray by the end of the table is barbecue chicken.”

Peter rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Laugh at me, I was just pointing to random things and didn’t think about it. Also everything up until this point has been Vietnamese food, so my brain was just on auto-pilot,” he picked up a piece of bread and took a bite, “and yes, I know this is bread,” his sentence slightly muffled due to the food in his mouth.

“Hey,” you said, snatching the bread from his hand, “this is NOT just bread. It’s better than that. I can’t explain it, this bread is just better than regular bread.”

Peter nodded his head as he swallowed.

“I actually understand what you mean.”

-

Peter was standing next to you, waiting for the next part of the party to happy, which you had excitedly informed his was the passing out of envelopes. As you received your first envelope, he watched you accept it with two hands and recite the words you told Peter were tradition. Much to his surprise, your Mom approached him next and handed him an envelope. Peter went to accept the envelope, only for your Mom to pull it away quickly.

“This envelope is for you,” she started, making Peter begin to sweat, “if you can properly wish me a happy new year.”

You started to laugh, as you figured your Mom would do this. She lived for moments like this! It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Peter viciously butchered the pronunciation of the saying---your entire family had heard him do so early as you tried to teach him. The tips of Peter’s ears began to burn as they turned red and he shakily said the four words.

“Ch-uc MuNG Num MuY.”

Certain letters were hit a little to hard and he added a sound here and there, but it was clear what he was trying to say and just how much effort he put into saying it. Lowering the envelope into Peter’s two awaiting hands, your Mom smiled fondly.

“Chúc Mừng Năm Mới, to you too, Peter.”

-

After the envelopes had been passed out (Peter received one from every single family member, same as you; he also had to shakily wish them all a happy new year) amongst the family, the day progressed into more fun. Your family played a couple of different games; in particular, Peter was fond of Bầu Cua, even if he wasn’t the best at it. He had won the jackpot in BINGO though, which he was very proud of. There had been a long line of firecrackers set off, which made your ears ring and Peter’s head throb due to his heightened senses, but he had enjoyed nonetheless; it was fun watching everyone rush out of the house to gather around and watch the event. Not to mention Peter got along swimmingly with your cousins, old and young. They wouldn’t say it to his face, but they also loved having him around.

You were back at Peter’s apartment now, laying on his bed and watching re-runs of your favorite show. Peter felt the smile that hadn’t left his face for the better half of the day widen, and he pressed a soft kiss to your hair. You shifted your head at the feeling, looking up at Peter.

“What?” You question, your expression matching his.

“Thank you for inviting me today, Y/N. I had a really great time.”

You placed a gentle kiss to Peter’s lips.

“Anytime. Happy New Year’s, Peter.”

[reject-princess97]

FP Jones (Part 1)

I sat on Betty's bed, listening to my Aunt Alice, Lecture me, once again, about how irresponsible I was being and how I needed to be a better role modal to my younger cousin Betty. A cousin who by the way is 16 yrs old.

"I mean did you think I wouldn't find out!" She yelled. "You're my niece, I find out everything." I rolled my eyes but kept listening, although I had heard it all before.

"That pit is no place for a girl like you Y/N." She continued. "And allowing Betty to follow you after I told you both to stay away from that place!". I sat there, feeling the anger build up until I blew.

"Alice, I'm 25 yrs old. I can take care of myself and as for Betty, she was there before I got there with Jug." I told her, finally having enough of her yelling at me." The Serpents know who we are and they don't or won't hurt us."

"Betty knows better that to go to a place like the Whyte Wyrm. She's smart." She told me.

"She is smart." I agreed.

"Look, you're family and I only want to keep you safe from those people. They're no good for this town and they..."

"Who's 'They' Aunt Alice, The Serpents? You used to be one of 'them'." I reminded her, "I am one of them."

She looked at me shocked.

"How...What?" She stuttered, You know about my past?"

"Oh, yeah I've heard a lot about the great Alice Smith, the would be Serpent queen. Made the current Serpents look like Kids playing dress up, the way she handled business. Then she turned her back on her family, turned her nose up at the people who once fought side by side with her and she chose to write bullshit stories, blaming the South side for every little thing that whet wrong in her  little north side," I yelled.

"Y/N you don't understand...I...It's..." She stuttered after a couple of minutes.

"I understand perfectly fine. Alice Cooper is a bullshit stirring, back stabbing witch." I yelled. "And I don't want to be here if she's going to be hypocritical. So I'm going to stay with somebody who cares and trust in my Serpent life." I told her grabbing my shoes and keys. "When 'Alice Smith' decides she wants her family back, I'll be at the Wyrm." I told her as I left.

I walk outside into the pouring rain and walked over to Fred Andrews front door and Knocked. I smiled when Fred answered the door. I stood there in the pouring rain, without a coat, smiling sadly.

"Hey, Mr Andrews, my Aunt and I had a fight and I needed to get away, could I use your phone, mines broke and I need to call for a ride?" I asked hopefully. As expected Fred nodded and moved aside, allowing me to enter his home. I followed after him, into the kitchen where he handed me the landline, a small, friendly smile on his lips.

I thanked him and I took the phone and called a number I knew too well. After a few rings and no answer, I called another number I had called a thousand times. By now Fred had left me alone to make my calls as I waited quietly until a voice I knew rang through the phone.

"The Wyrm" he called into to the phone.

"Bug-eye, hey, It's Y/N"

"Hey, he's in his office, I'll patch you through." The bartender chuckled, knowing full well who I was calling for. A couple seconds later the line went quite, then, Finally, the voice I'd long to hear all day rang through the phone. FP Jones, the only person in the world who makes me feel safe, even in the most dangerous situations.

"Y/N? What's wrong?" He asked down the phone, worry laced in his voice.

"FP, can you come pick me up?" I begged.

"What? why? what happened?" He asked frantically.

"Alice was butting in my business and started yelling at me, so I yelled back and pretty much called her a hypocritical bitch for yelling at me for hanging out at the Wyrm and turning my back on my family when she did pretty much the same thing when she turned her back on the Serpents and married a 'Cooper'." I told him. I head him laugh and I smiled.

"Where are you now?" He asked, I heard movement and the jingle of keys as he spoke.

"Fred Andrews place, I needed to use his phone to call you. Jughead still has mine after the last time I was at the Wyrm." I told him.

"OK, stay there, I'll be there ASAP, do you need me to bring anything?"

"My Jacket and you." I chuckled into the phone.

"That I can do, I'll see you soon OK?"

"OK." I replied before I hung up.

I put the phone down and looked up to see Archie stood by the door, a confused look on his face.

"Archie." I nodded.

"Y/N, what you doing here?" He asked.

"Alice and I had a fight and I left. My phone is broke so I asked your dad if I could use yours." I smiled.

"All sorted?" Fred asked from behind Archie. "Did you get a hold of FP?" I looked up at him surprised but nodded.

"Yeah, he's on his way, told me to stay here, if that's OK by you." I smiled and he nodded.

"Well I wouldn't make you stand outside." He chuckled, "Although it has stopped raining." He joked.

"How did you know I called FP?" I asked.

"I'm his best friend, he tells me everything." He shrugged.

"OH, cool." I grinned.

"So, what happened to your phone?" Archie asked walking over to the fridge, grabbing a soda and offered me one but I shook my head smiling.

"I'm good, Thanks." I told him. "There was a drunk guy at the Wyrm last week, tried hitting on me but Jughead saw and tried to tell the guy to back off. But the guy just laughed him off and kept on pushing. Next thing you know there are about 30 Serpents around us and my phone was stepped on." I explained.

"Sounds bad." Fred spoke up.

"Nah, Juggie took the phone and is taking a look at it, I feel sorry for the guy who was hitting on me...the serpents took that pretty badly."

"Why would Jughead care if some guy was hitting on you?" He asked confused. I was about to explain when there was a knock I the front door, I stood up in time to see the door open and in walked FP.

"You OK?" He asked once he reached me. I nodded and he pulled me into his arms.

"Yeah, just had enough of her shit so I left." I shrugged.

"I see." FP chuckled.

"She's always acting all high and mighty with her stupid paper, acting as if she wasn't once of the people who she spends so much time dragging into the dirt." I huffed feeling the anger build up once again.

"She'll get over self eventually." FP shrugged, letting me go.

"Not before she loses everyone she cares about." I laughed.

"Alice Cooper will need you help one day and when that day comes she'll regret every stupid thing she ever said about the Serpents." Archie added. "I've seen the looks she gives to Jughead, If looks could kill Jug would hive been killed a thousand times by now." He laughed.

"I've been given that look many times." FP laughed.

"I have yet to get that look, I have however been given the 'Serpents are no good for this family' speech" I told them. Everyone laughed.

"Come on, Let's get over to the Wyrm, Bug-eye's got a drink ready and waiting." FP told me.

"What a guy!" I joked as I followed behind FP, making my way out the door.

"Wait, you're going the Wyrm? After what happened last time?" Archie asked.

"Well, yeah, it's where the Serpents go to let off steam and I am, after all, a Serpent." I told him as I continued walking.

"Thank you so much for letting me use your phone Fred." I smiled back to the eldest Andrews man.

"Yeah, thanks for taking care of my girl Freddy." FP called back. I reached FP's bike and I spotted  my Serpent jacket that was resting on the back of the bike.

As I grabbed my jacked I spotted Alice stood at her front door, her eyes glued to FP, until he walked over to me and her eyes landed on me. I pulled my jacket on and smiled at her. FP, handed placed a helmet on my head and I grinned up at him. I grabbed his jacket and pulled him down to my face,

"Thank you for coming to my rescue Jones." I smiled up at him. "You're my hero."

"Anything for you Smith." He grinned and lent down, placing a soft, loving kiss on my lips, "Now, down let's get you a drink before we head back to my place, Jug and Betty are there."

We climbed on the back of his bike and he took off, but not before I got a good look at Alice who was shooting me her world famous death glare, the one reserved especially for 'Serpent Trash' like myself and my family.

We pulled up outside the Wyrm and climbed of the bike. FP grabbed my hand and we walked into the bar.

"Well, looky here!" Bugeye called as he spotted us. "If it isn't the Serpent king and his Queen, Y/N the bad-ass!" He called as we walked over to the bar. The whole bar cheered and FP grabbed the beer Bugeye handed him and raised it to the room.

"To Smith...FINALLY free of Alice Coopers control!" FP Toasted, wrapping his arms around me.

"To Smith!" The room cheered back before carrying on with what ever they were doing.

"To my Serpent Queen, long may she reign by my side and kick my ass when I need to step shit up." FP muttered in my ear. I turned and touched my glass to his.

"To the Serpent Queen." I smiled back but instead of taking a drink, I kissed him softly.

"You know, now that you're free of Alice, nothing is stopping you from moving in with Jug and I?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, you need a place to stay, I need you to be with me. It's a win, win." He shrugged.

"What about Jughead, he has a say in this to you know?"

"Actually, I already asked him, he was here when you called. I asked if he minded you staying a few days and he said he didn't mind at all and if you wanted you could make the stay permanent." FP told me.

"Wait, you really want me to move in with you?" I asked him shocked. He had been joking for a while about me moving in with the boys to get out of the Cooper house. I never really thought he ment it.

"I am, Y/N Smith, will you move in with me?" He asked, I grinned and nodded.

"Of course I will." I replied.

"That's good because Betty and Jug are already took my truck and have gone to grab your stuff before Alice has chance to burn it all." He laughed.

"Great, I 'll be needing that stuff." I laughed back.

We stayed at the Wyrm for a couple more hours until FP got a text from Jughead.

"Right baby, let's go home." He told me.

"Home, I like the way you say that." I grinned up him as he pulled me up and lead me to his bike out front.

"Come on baby, we're going home." He winked as we climbed on the bike and we set off.

The Journey how was short and soon enough we pulled up outside FP and Jughead place. Well, my place too now.

I barely even climbed off the bike before  the door to the trailer opened and out came Jug and Betty.

"Hey guys," I waved, placing my helmet back on the bike.

"Did you get everything sorted?" FP asked the two young serpents.

"Yep." Jug smiled holding up a piece of paper and a key. Betty disappeared and came out holding a box.

"This is the last of it." She smiled walking towards FP and I, she placed the box on the floor before pulling me into a hug.

"Hi to you too." I chuckled. "What's with the box?" I asked as I pulled away.

"It's mine, I'm taking it to Jug's new place." She grinned.

"What?"

"I'm moving out, you're moving in." Jughead spoke up.

"The place isn't big enough for all of us and with Betty always staying over too, Jug asked for his own place." FP clarified.

"Juggie, if I had known I would be pushing you out of your home..."

"You're not, I had been planning this for a while I got the keys today and dad was planning on asking you to move in soon anyway." Jug explained.

"This thing with Alice just made it easier to ask you..." FP added.

"Oh, OK then so, were you living?"

"There." Jughead smiled as he pointed at the trailer right next to FP's.

"Well, we got some unpacking to do and we'll all go to pops for dinner later." Betty informed us as she walked into Jughead's new trailer.

"Let's do it" I smiled as I walked into me new home, a place that always felt like home to me but now, It's my really is my home.

masterlist 

[biasedwriting]

God Save The King ||12||

Find all the parts here

Thanks @vixxscifiwritings for putting up with me

 Taekwoon dismissed his guards as he sighed, pacing up and down his chambers. His lip stung, it had been freshly cleansed and the wound wasn’t very deep. Yet it was his pounding heart that kept him from sleeping even as the moonlight streamed through the arches of the windows. He had taken a risky step today and Sooyeon assumed that he was now in love with Minah which indeed worked in his favour, but Wonshik was stubborn, clearly controlled by his emotions.

Taekwoon needed a queen.

Footsteps alerted him of the arrival of another person as he spun around to meet Minah’s sharp gaze. He froze, her face unreadable as she bowed in greeting, her slate grey robes fluttering with her movements.

“I received permission from Joonmyeon to enter,” her voice held no emotion as she maintained her gaze, poised, unreadable “I hope I am not disturbing you.”

“Not at all,” Taekwoon’s voice was soft as he stood stock still, the curtains shifted, casting more of the moonlight onto Minah’s face. He shifted after a few moments to turn on the lights. The room illuminated as Minah continued to look at Taekwoon with the same poker face “how may I help you, my good lady?”

“I came to check on his highness and sincerely apologise for the hurt the king has caused you,” she paused for a response, eyes fixed on the scratches on Taekwoon’s cheek.

“I have suffered much worse, this is something I expected,” Taekwoon waved his hand dismissively “do take a seat.”

Minah took two steps closer to him “then may I ask if his majesty is aware that he is taking a massive risk by asking for my hand in marriage.”

Taekwoon paused, now aware of why Minah was here as he sighed, walking over to the single settee placed in the room and taking a seat before indicating to her that she should join him as well. He watched as she took cautious steps before settling down beside him, back straight, eyes meeting his.

“Is Sooyeon not good enough?” Minah asked, taking Taekwoon aback with how straightforward she was being “your majesty, you’re mistaking her to be more of a child than she is, Sooyeon will make a good queen, it is in her blood.”

Taekwoon’s eyes shifted from her gaze to the floor, sweeping up her figure before meeting her eyes again “I knew it was a risk, but...Sooyeon cannot be my queen.”

“Your majesty, you cannot throw away a month of negotiations on a whim, tell me what it is about Sooyeon that displeases you and I will see if I can….”

“She is not you.”

Minah froze, feeling her heart rate pick up. No one had spoken to her in such terms, she shook her head. She would not be swayed by pleasing words.

“She is royalty and she can take care of your kingdom as an able queen.”

“And you more so.”

“Your majesty, you are mistaken, I am not royalty. You cannot marry me, I am to marry Wonshik.” Minah’s eyes fixed themselves on the ground as her heart beat rapidly and her skin flushed. Even the sea breeze could not cool her skin as she felt his gaze on her.

Taekwoon took the moment to truly look at Minah. After all these days of admiring Sooyeon’s blinding beauty he wanted to admire the woman he wished to have as his wife.

Until the power failed, throwing them both into the darkness. Yet Taekwoon could see her with the moonlight cast gently on her face. The way the light touched her cheeks, the curl of her eyelashes, her pursed lips. Did she not want to marry him?

Taekwoon wondered, the intrusive thought suddenly gnawing at him.

“Hopefully the emergency generator will start up...most of power is currently being rerouted to be used to power the hospital for our wounded men…”Minah rambled into the silence. Taekwoon was certain that this had been a decision taken by her. A perfect queen sat beside him and now he was plagued by the thought of her not wanting to marry him. His eyes fell on her vacant fingers placed on her lap.

“You wear no ring,” he whispered as Minah found herself looking at her fingers.

“It awaits my king’s ring.”

“You are not engaged to Kim Wonshik?” Taekwoon gaped at Minah who continued to look at the ground. There is silence as Taekwoon wonders what in the world could have possibly possessed Wonshik to not place a ring on this woman’s finger and wed her instantly. The intrusive thought appeared yet again and Taekwoon could feel his stomach churn.

“Do you not wish to wed me? Do you dislike me?”

Minah paused, her heart hammering against her ribcage. It wasn’t that she disliked Taekwoon, neither was she madly in love. But she could see a future where there was mutual respect and admiration for each other. That maybe she could possibly grow to be even more fond of the king of the East than she was now. No one had ever treated her like this - like she was tender but strong, precious even. Sooyeon was not going to marry Taekwoon, she knew it, not after this for certain, no matter how much she would try to convince the princess.

Taekwoon felt her shift uncomfortably as he could feel his stomach drop. Maybe he was forcing her into a marriage she didn’t want.

“I…” he tried to formulate a sentence, casting a glance to the floor as he heard the rustle of her robes. His mind temporarily blanking out when he felt her lips against the scratched skin on his cheek causing heat to flare up the flesh, the tips of his ears feeling a little too hot.

“That is all I can say...I will take your leave now,” Minah stammered as she stood up and hurried out of the chambers.

The lights returned as Taekwoon gazed out of the arched windows, even more determined to have Minah’s hand in marriage.

Minseok wasn't particularly surprised when Taekwoon had broken the news to him. The king assumed that Joonmyeon had informed his council member of the decision that he had taken.

“I see you are determined to marry her, but your highness, are you making this decision with your head or your heart? A king who rules with his heart does not rule for long.” he warned as Taekwoon shook his head.

“She will be the best queen for our people. I hold only affection for her and admiration for her wisdom.” he replied, trying to suppress the heat shooting up his ears when he thought to the night before.

“She is now in council with the king of the South. We will be meeting after breakfast.” Joonmyeon commented as Taekwoon fixed his coat sleeve.

“Do we have a strategy going into this?” Minseok asked wearily as Taekwoon looked back at his councillor.

“I will take Wonshik on. It is men he needs and his sister by him. If he wants a war I will give one to him.” he knew that with Minah's strength on his side, he wouldn't have to wage a war against Wonshik. Sooyeon had already declared her lack of intention to marry him and if the south didn't comply, they had no allies to support them, not with the West in it's weakened state.

“All for a woman?”

“A queen, Minseok.”

***

“Minah, you know exactly why you're here.” Wonshik began with his cajoling voice as Minah sat across him straight faced.

“Wonshik, there needs to be a sacrifice and I have no troubles taking Sooyeon's stead. I have done it once, and I will do it again.”

Wonshik winced, the privacy allowing him to express himself freely. His uncle and aunt's death had weighed heavily on him as he had lost his cousin too. Minah had lost her family to the empire and was forced to take her sister's place as his betrothed. “You must not speak so freely of the dead.”

“They are my dead Wonshik, taking my sister's place to marry you was natural, now it is simply marrying the king of the East.” Minah shrugged “Sooyeon will be safe at the least and we will be protected from war.”

“You infuriate me with your logic,” Wonshik huffs “you are my betrothed! We are to be married!”

“We were to be married two years ago Wonshik, the moment you ascended the throne. I am aware of the reasons why you have been reluctant, I know who visits you in the nights. I hope you don't take me for a fool,” Minah's voice trembled “I want you to be happy Wonshik, not tied down by me.”

Wonshik stared at Minah, stunned by her statement. Her eyes fixed themselves on him, unmoving, but not without compassion. He was a fool to haveunderestimated her. He should have trusted her more.

“The small council will be arriving soon. I will hold my tongue for your sake Wonshik, out of love and respect for you. I think it is best to accept this deal offered by the king of the East. That way Sooyeon is eligible to marry Jaehwan and become queen for the Empire. You will still have her with you for a little longer.”

“Minah,” Wonshik sighed as she looked at him with a soft smile.

“It is the least I can do for our people, for Sooyeonie, and for you.”

The arrival of Taemin and Jongin was announced as the two hurried in. Taemin seated himself by MInah while Jongin remained standing, staring at her.

“Please tell me it isn’t true. The King of the East wishes for your hand in marriage?!”

“Yes, that is the case.” Minah sighed causing Jongin’s face to twist in worry.

“Do you wish to go?” he asked and Minah was reminded of the same sensitive Jongin she used to visit in her childhood. The same Jongin who held her hand to lead her while they played hide and seek in his father’s gardens. She knew he was worried, but she had made up her mind.

“I will go to keep our people safe.”

“It is foolish of the king to change his mind,” Taemin commented “what could have possibly caused this change of heart?” he eyed Minah suspiciously

“If you wish to imply something about the honourable lady, I hope you will think twice Taemin.” Wonshik growled.

“I am not aware of anything that could have caused this, but you are free to suspect as you wish. I am open to marrying him if it brings us three rivers and an army. You will still have Sooyeon to offer to Jaehwan for peace with the High King. Sooyeon will be high queen. A position she deserves.” Minah's steady voice called an end to all debate.

“But we need you here,” Jongin interjected, looking pained “the south needs a Queen.”

“We cannot afford to go to war, Jongin, the south has done well without a queen and will continue to do so. This is our best bet for peace on all sides.”

Wonshik sighed,Minah's  brute logic was difficult to counter. Sooyeon had declared that she refused to marry Taekwoon under any circumstances and he felt it too cruel to force her into a loveless marriage. Neither could he change Minah's mind. Not with what she knew. But he knew he could trust her judgement and character of pure honesty.

“So be it,” he said sighing and holding his arms out to pull his cousin into a hug “you are brave to do this for your kingdom.”

“It is an honour to serve you, your highness.” she bowed to him.

That night, the declaration of Taekwoon’s engagement to Minah was spread across the kingdom.

Previous || Next

[batfam-imagines]

Single Mom

Let me know what you think!

Being a single mom was not something that you had ever expected your future to hold. Having to leave your home in Star City and go back to Gotham in order to get you and your baby away from an abusive ex even less so.

“Thanks for letting me stay with you, Roy”

“It’s no problem, Y/N, you and Jackson are welcome to stay as long as you want. Trust me, I know all about needed to get away from Star City”

You reach out and pull your cousin into a tight hug, “We won’t be staying long, I already have a job and just need to look for an apartment”

“Don’t worry about it. I know that Gotham can be a difficult city to find a safe apartment in.”

“Tell me about it, luckily your dad sent in a good word to Bruce Wayne and I’m going to be his new secretary. It’s a surprisingly good salary, hopefully I’ll be able to save enough to get us out of Crime Alley – Not that your apartment isn’t nice! I just -”

“You just don’t want to raise a three year old in Crime Alley. Don’t worry, I understand”

“You can come live with us, get to a better neighborhood”

Roy ruffles your hair, “Nah, cousin, I like it here, this place has grown on me. And plus, if I leave whose gonna make sure that the girls on the corner ain’t pushed around?”

“So you look out for the hookers?”

“They’re sweet ladies, they just gotta do what they gotta do. I just make sure that the Johns don’t get too rough, and if they need a snack I’ll toss down a few things”

“You’re such a bleeding heart, Roy!”

“I can’t help it! They have kids and some guys can be assholes”

You let out a dry chuckle, “I know all about guys being assholes. Trust me”

“I’m so sorry you had to go through that, Y/N” Roy pulls you down onto the couch, “Do you think Jacks will remember anything?”

“I hope not, the only time he really saw Lyle hit me was when we were trying to leave, at least I hope that’s the only time he saw it. Jackson’s a smart kid though, hopefully he’s too young to remember anything.”

“You think he’s gonna try and sue for custody?”

“I sure as hell hope not”

Roy smirks, “For his sake I hope to hell he stays far away from Gotham”

--

Six months later finds you in your own apartment in a much nicer side of Gotham than Roy’s apartment in Crime Alley. Jackson’s been enrolled in pre-school, and then goes to daycare while you’re at work.

“Mommy!”

You kneel down, easily catching your son in your arms, “Hey, pumpkin! I missed you”

“I missed you too, Mommy!”

Scooping up the now four year old boy you turn and head back to your car, “I have a little bit of work that I still need to do at the office, okay sweetheart? Will you be a good boy and draw me a picture while I work?”

The smile your son gives you is bright enough to warm your heart, “Yeah! And I can tell you about my new friends!”

“Of course, Jacks, of course. You know I always want to hear about your day”

Jackson continues to talk while you drive back to WE, “And everyone’s my friend! Even the teacher is really cool! She says that I’m super smart because I already know how to write my name and read some!”

Thankfully Jackson’s always been eager to learn. He took to reading relatively quickly, and even wants to try learning how to speak another language. The woman down the hall from your apartment likes to speak to Jackson in Italian, and has started to teach you and Jackson a few phrases.

“Did you show her that you can add and subtract too?”

“No, Mrs. Ellie said that we get to do math tomorrow, so I have to wait”

“Well, if you want you can practice your math when we get inside, just to make sure that you haven’t forgotten anything”

Jackson’s eyes light up, “Yeah! You’re so smart Mommy”

“Thanks, pumpkin”

Once you get Jackson set up with his math problems, several sheets of paper, and a cup of juice, you can finally finish your work for the day. Most people think that being a secretary is easy work, and it might be if you worked for anyone other than Bruce Wayne. Mr. Wayne who was constantly canceling or rescheduling meetings, having some kind of scandal, or hosting some kind of party, was a lot of work to keep up with.

“Mommy?”

“Hmm?”

“How long are we gonna be here? I’m hungry”

“I’m almost done, sweetheart. I just need to make a few more of these invitations so I can send them out tomorrow and then we can go.”

“Y/N?”

You whip around, coming face to face with your boss. “Mr. Wayne?! What are you doing here so late? I though you left at 3 today”

Bruce raises an eyebrow, “I could ask you the same thing considering I know you left at 5 pm, but here you are at 6:30pm and still working”

“I – I had to pick up my son” you make an aborted gesture towards the four-year-old, “and I had to come back to finish these invitations for the gala in two weeks …”

“I didn’t even know that you had a son”

“Well, I try not to bring up my personal life at the office, I mean I’m just your secretary Mr. Wayne”

“Yes, but you’ve been with me for over six months and I still never knew that you had a son. Hasn’t he gotten sick or anything?”

“Well, my cousin Roy can usually watch Jackson when he’s sick so I don’t have to take time off work. I mean I can’t really afford to miss much, it’s a little difficult to be a single mom and pay rent. I was only just recently able to move out of Crime Alley and I’d like to be able to stay out of there”

“I’m … sorry. I always asked you to work weekends, or come in after hours. I never realized you had a son” Mr. Wayne pauses for a minute, “You mentioned your cousin. Roy? Would that happen to be Roy Harper?”

“Yeah, actually. Do you know him?”

“He and my sons, Jason and Dick, are good friends”

“Yeah, he mentioned a Jason and Dick, but I never got the chance to meet them before I moved out.”

“Mommy, I’m hungry”

“Sorry, baby, I’m almost done. Do you want some fruit snacks?”

“Yeah!” You quickly pull out a pack of fruit snacks and pull it open. “Thanks”

“I’m really sorry, Mr. Wayne, but I need to finish this up so I can figure out some dinner”

“Actually, I was going to go to dinner with my sons and I wanted to know if you and Jackson would like to come. It’d be my treat”

“I can’t ask that of you, Mr. Wayne”

“Call me Bruce, and I insist. You’ve made my life so much easier these past few months that dinner for you and your son would be the least I can do. What do you think, Jackson? Would you like to go out for dinner with my sons and I?”

“Yes, please!”

You narrow your eyes at your boss, “What was a dirty trick, Mr. Wayne, using my own son against me”

“Come on, Y/N, it’s just dinner. And three of my sons are close to your age, I know that you don’t have very many friends your own age, not with how much time you spend here and then with how much you must spend with your boy”

“Please, Mommy? Can we please go? I promise I’ll be good and I’ll use all my manners”

“Fine, we can go, but you have to clean up after yourself first”

Jackson scrambles to get everything in order. He puts all of his papers in his backpack, and throws away his juice cup and snack wrapper. “All clean”

“All right” Quickly logging out of your computer and gathering your own things, you turn back to the billionaire, “So, where are we going?”

--

You all arrive at the small diner at the same time. “Boys, I’d like you to meek Y/N and her son, Jackson. She was working late tonight and though it would be nice if they joined us”

“Hi, I’m Dick” The man grins, his blue eyes sparkle with the light of a man that’s seen a lot in his life, but still manages to see the good in everyone. “It’s really nice to meet you guys” He doesn’t seem to know how to handle Jackson though, so it’s obvious that he’s never been around kids.

The second man that steps forward is huge. He’s about as big as Bruce, but he has gunmetal grey eyes and a strange white streak in his hair. “I’m Jason” As soon as you let go of his hand Jason crouches down and smiles at Jackson, “Hey, big man. My name’s Jason, what’s yours?”

The little boy grins and to your surprise darts forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Jason’s neck. “My name’s Jackson, but mommy calls me Jacks”

Jason pulls back slightly, a soft smile on his handsome face, “Oh yeah, bud? And what does your daddy call you?”

You twitch not expecting the question, but before you can even open your mouth Jackson answers, “Well, my father liked to call me bad names, like bastard and little shit, and he used to hit mommy, but mommy and me left to come here and live with Uncle Roy”

Everyone paused, either in shock or in horror at what Jackson had just said. Slowly crouching down and pulling Jackson away from Jason, “Baby, we talked about this, remember? We said that we weren’t ever gonna tell people about your father and what he did.”

“I know, but -”

“You promised that you wouldn’t tell people, Jackson. When people ask where your father is you tell them …”

“That I don’t have one” Jackson’s lip wobbles, “’m sorry, mommy”

“It’s okay, sweetheart. Come on, lets meet everyone else and then we can eat, alright?”

“Okay”

--

Dinner is a surprisingly fun affair. It’s full of the brothers constantly picking at each other, Bruce trying to control his sons, and your own son’s laughter. Jackson seems to bond even more with Jason and, to everyone’s apparent surprise, Damian.

Damian places the menu on the table, “No, Jackson, chocolate milk is obviously superior to plain milk, so that is what we shall get”

“You like chocolate milk too?!”

“tt – of course.”

“Mommy, can I have chocolate milk?”

“Only a small cup, I don’t want you to have too much sugar before bedtime”

Jackson’s smile is bright, “Thank you!”

Jason smiles at you, watching his youngest brother and your son debate which is better, grilled cheese or chicken nuggets. “He’s a cute kid”

“Thanks”

“He’s pretty damn smart too. He was telling me about his math and reading when you were talking to Tim and Bruce about work.”

Your eyes soften when they fall on your boy, “He’s always been smart and he soaks up new information like a sponge. He likes to watch animal documentaries instead of cartoons, and one of my neighbors is teaching him a little bit of Italian.”

“Even smarter than I thought” Jason’s eyes meet yours, “You know you’re pretty awesome too”

“I just your dad’s secretary, Jason”

“You’ve also gotten yourself out of an abusive relationship, and are raising a pretty awesome kid”

A blush starts creeping up your cheeks, “Thank you. You seem to be pretty good with kids you know”

“Before Bruce adopted me I lived in Crime Alley, there were a lot of kids on the street that needed to be looked after. I honestly think that kids can sense that I’ve had experience, that I like to be around kids”

The chocolate milk comes for Damian and Jackson, when Damian just tries to drink it Jackson shows him the wonder of blowing milk bubbles, “I was surprised when he hugged you. Ever since we left his father he’s been wary of strange men, the only man he really likes is Roy. Damian I can understand because he’s young, but you’re huge and basically a stranger”

“Kids have pretty good instincts, especially ones who’ve witnessed abuse”

Jackson lets out another shrieking giggle, this time at Dick and Tim fighting over the last French fry, “You guys are just really good with him” Dick starts whining when he realizes that Jackson stole the fry among all the fighting. Bruce calls the waitress over and orders another three servings of fries.

“So, I know that we only just met, but I was wondering if you’d like to go out with me sometime? Like on a date?”

“Yes!” Both you and Jason look at Jackson in surprise, “Say yes, mommy!”

“You want me to go on a date with Jason?”

Damian snorts, “tt – you would be an acceptable partner for Todd, much better than any other woman he has brought around. The child is also acceptable, I quite enjoy his company”

“Glad we have your approval, Demon Brat, but it’s up to Y/N whether or not she wants to go out with me”

Giving Jason a shy smile you nod, “I think I’d really like to go out with you, Jason. I mean Roy had some pretty good things to say about you, and if you’re his best friend than I guess you must be a pretty good guy”

Jason’s grin is blinding, and Jackson cheers, “Yay, mommy!”

--

Jason’s out patrolling, making one last round before heading in for the night. He hasn’t been able to stop smiling since Y/N said yes to a date, but that smile is quickly wiped off his face when a red arrow hits his helmet.

“Hood!”

Jason yanks off the helmet, looking up in shock at his best friend, “What the fuck, Roy?! Did you just shoot an arrow at me?!”

“That was a warning shot. You hurt my baby cousin or her boy and the next time I shoot, you won’t be wearing the helmet. Understand?”

“Yeah – Yeah I understand”

Slowly Roy unnotched his arrow, sliding it back into his quiver, “Good. Jay, I love you like a brother, but I’m serious, you hurt either of them and I’ll kill you”

[philosophiums]

ohhhhhhkayyyyy so here’s the second part of @requiemofkings‘ original espionage-ish au idea that i just... took a stab at. i have no idea where this is going and there’s currently no end in sight, so isn’t that great? 

anyway here’s part 1

and here’s some suspense to keep you waiting on the whole “Neil” situation

79 hours (and a time zone) earlier

Andrew’s hands fit perfectly on the hook of Neil’s hips, his fingers tipped into the indent of skin where the bone gives way to squishy flesh pretending to be as hard as the planes of Neil’s scarred stomach. In the dark room, Andrew has no qualms about dipping his head down to kiss the side of Neil’s neck, lips pressing just under the silver chain holding up his engagement ring. Neil hums and leans back into Andrew, his weight solid and warm – more than welcome.

“Sorry!” Nicky pants, bursting in as if he had used the slamming of his body into the door to slow down his momentum. Allison follows him, but there’s no apology from her, just a cool look cast around the room before she moves to stand beside Renee. Nicky continues apologizing as he walks over to Aaron. “Sorry, we got caught up in some minor details.”

Andrew makes sure that his cousin is unharmed despite how harried he looks, and when he’s sure that the fool isn’t bleeding or bruised anywhere visible, he returns his attention front, eyes cast to where Wymack is standing at the head of the room. Kevin is the man’s shadow, glaring around the room in a dare for another setback.

“Since we’re all here now, if we’re done with the dramatics, I would like to let you all know what our next mission is.” Wymack narrows his gaze at Nicky and Allison, and after another moment, he clicks on the presentation. All of these slide shows make Andrew feel like he’s back in junior high, but Neil seems to like the simplicity of continuing to do things the old fashioned way. They’ll all have dossiers to read later, detailing their own individual parts of the mission, yet for some reason, Wymack still insists on the waste of time that is such a broad overview.

“Alright, so we’re stepping away from the CIA for a moment and getting back to the FBI. They contracted us yesterday, and they want this handled as quickly as possible, but to keep it quiet. It’s not quite black ops level, but aim for being as covert as possible. Our target is Amelia Kallenbach.” A picture of the woman appears on the screen, illuminating the room with a sad smile and a wash of rich brown hair framing a face that could have been conventionally pretty twenty years ago with the right amount of makeup. “She’s the assistant of a man known only as ‘Mr. Jones.’ Kevin and I are assuming that’s an alias, and you all should be as well. We don’t know anything about him, except that he appears rather close to Ms. Kallenbach, keeps in close contact with someone via a phone number that remains constant, and runs a sex traffic ring.”

Andrew stiffens at that, and inside the box of his arms, Neil freezes, too. “I swear to god, if we have to infiltrate that…” Andrew doesn’t finish his warning, because he doesn’t think he needs to. He’s not letting any of his family or the rest of these assholes near something like that.

Wymack’s expression is firm but gentle. “Hopefully it doesn’t come to that. I think you’re all competent enough to keep it far away from that scenario. Anyway, our goal for right now is to get some information from Ms. Kallenbach, but mostly we need to put a tracker on her. Should be an easy in and out, one day affair. The whole mission is going to be longer, but we’ll take it one step at a time. Ms. Kallenbach is going to be at the Langham Hotel in Chicago this weekend. Luckily, there’s a convention in town at the same time, so two of you will be pretending to attend that and trying to intercept her before she disappears into her room.”

Kevin walks around the briefing room, handing out dossiers. The man used to be an excellent spy – the best of the best, really, which even Andrew will grudgingly admit. But he lost the entirety of the vision in his left eye on a mission, cutting his career short. Wymack had taken him in, given him a job close to the ground in exchange for Kevin’s help whipping his own employees into shape. Kevin is a harsh bastard, and most days Andrew wants nothing more than to beat his goddamn head in, but the man knows what he’s doing.

“I assigned everyone’s positions for this part of the mission,” Kevin starts once he’s handed the last dossier to Dan and returned to the front of the room. “Matt and Aaron, you’re on surveillance. I want eyes and ears everywhere. Ms. Kallenbach is known to travel with a large escort, most of whom we don’t have faces for. I want to know who’s moving and where, and what they’re saying. Dan, you’re backup. Getaway car, needed assistance, whatever; it’s all in the dossier. Just be ready to go in hot if you have to. Andrew and Neil are on point.”

Well… maybe the cocky bastard doesn’t always know what he’s doing.

“I’m sorry,” Allison says, drumming her fingers against her bicep, “what was that? You’re sending the monsters on point for information?” Thank god Allison’s throwing a fit, because Andrew’s not happy about it, either. Neil doesn’t seem to care, his shoulders relaxed where they’re resting against Andrew’s chest, but this particular maniac only ever seems to just want to be working – in any capacity possible.

“Yes,” Kevin says, and there’s nothing in his voice to indicate that he’s going to change his mind. “We’re all getting too comfortable in the roles we’ve settled into. If you can’t have a broad range of skills, then you’re going to end up predictable and dead.”

Andrew can understand why Allison is bitter, why Nicky is pouting and not trying to hide it. This is usually their thing, and they’re damn good at it. Fucking chameleons, the both of them. Allison has it easier, since there are far more hair and eye color options available to someone with fair skin, but Nicky can change his whole demeanor, his whole persona, and let it soak into him in just a few days. Andrew can’t do that. He’s always the heavy hitter, the killer. He and Neil are a deadly team with the highest kill count in the United States. They’ve never fucked up a hit, not even during their early days of not trusting each other – the job always came first.

“Allison,” Neil says, piping up for the first time in a few hours and relaxing some tension in Andrew’s chest, “Kevin’s right. Andrew and I need more practice blending in, and you and Nicky are going to have to learn how to aim a little better, too.” That last comment was probably directed more at Nicky, since Allison can brawl with the best of them. It did tend to be difficult hiding weapons in slinky dresses, though, which typically wound up being her problem.

“Fine.” Allison’s lips pinch together, but she doesn’t argue anymore. And thank god, because Andrew wants out of here.

Wymack flaps his hand and kicks on the lights. “Go read through your dossiers. We’ll reconvene in two hours to go over any questions that might pop up between now and then. Otherwise, Allison and Nicky are in charge of wardrobe for Andrew and Neil. Renee… well, you know what to do.” Renee’s smile is bemused but pleased. Andrew’s known her too long to trust that cross around her neck. “Alright, get out of here.”

Andrew pats Neil’s hip to signal to him to stand on his own two feet again, but Neil stays where he is for two more seconds before shifting his weight forward with a sigh. Andrew shifts his dossier to his left hand and tugs Neil’s sleeve, guiding him from the room.

They split off to the right, towards the staircase and the weight room waiting for them a floor lower. Wymack has made a base out of a small office space, clean and functional but nothing fancy. It works, and they have a business cover to displace any ties to the organizations who require their skillset, so that’s all that matters. Andrew would really just like to go home right now and fuck his new fiancé senseless, but they’ll have to make due until normal office hours are over. A shame, really, that this place is covered head to toe in cameras. Not even the supply closets are safe.

“If you’re worried about it, just say so,” Neil says, opening the door and flicking on the lights. There’s a bathroom connected to this room – the reason that Wymack chose it as the workout room – but the shower is a makeshift and shabby fix-job, and there’s no privacy for changing out. It’s why they’re here now, when everyone else is busy doing their own shit. Neil isn’t entirely uncomfortable in his skin anymore, but Andrew can tell that all of those scars, especially the ones inflicted by his own parents, still bother him.

Andrew walks into the bathroom and towards the filing cabinets that serve as lockers for their change of clothes. It’s a redneck solution, really, but it works. The fewer renovations to the office, the fewer questions from the other people who work in the building. “This is probably the safest job we’ve ever worked,” Andrew says, swapping out his turtleneck for a baggy muscle shirt. “The only thing I’m worried about is you getting trigger happy.”

Neil makes a face that Andrew barely catches, but they finish changing out without another word from either of them.

-----

Renee smiles when Andrew and Neil visit her for their gear, her head tipped up while she’s bent over one of her work stations. “You two look lively. Did Allison and Nicky treat you right?”

Neil snorts and deigns not to say anything, for once in his life. Andrew rolls his eyes. “If I wanted to dress like a monkey,” he says, “I wouldn’t be in this line of work. Please tell me you have something more worth my while.”

“I’m sure you both look handsome,” Renee assures, though she straightens up and motions them to follow her over to a different station upon Andrew’s request. “I think you’ll like them.”

Neil approaches the weapons, picking up his Walther compact and the larger P99 model, weighing them in his hands. He always insists on checking his own weapons, but he doesn’t bother prompting Andrew anymore to look over his Berettas. Andrew trusts Renee, far more than he trusts most people. He knows she’s good at her job and doesn’t have a vendetta against him, and that’s all that really matters.

He’s more interested in the tools and gadgets lined up on the other side of the table. “This is it?” There are only two devices. Usually, he and Neil get all of the cool shit, given the depth of their typical missions.

Renee lifts a shoulder in a shrug. “It’s a small mission. You won’t need your usual amount of gear.”

“What if we do?”

“You’re not going in unarmed, Andrew, just downsized. And Dan will be on standby if you need assistance.”

Andrew frowns, not happy that he won’t be going in with his usual armament. Neil, who is only going to be lacking his overabundance of ammo, doesn’t seem nearly as upset. He just keeps checking his guns and Andrew’s, taking them apart to make sure that all the pieces are still there and functional. His ring sways from the chain around his neck as he bends over to lay out the pieces. It’s a simple band of silver with an inlaid string of diamonds, matching Andrew’s perfectly, except the inside of Neil’s band is scratched with the word pipedream, and the inside of Andrew’s says always.

“Walk me through it,” Andrew says, turning his attention back to Renee and the two devices placed on the work station.

-----

Matt hands Andrew his earpiece while Aaron talks Neil through the building’s layout one more time. Those two have been getting along better, lately – probably due to Neil’s action as the middleman between Aaron and Katelyn. They’re married, but Aaron doesn’t want to drag Katelyn into the mess that is being a freelance agent. So Neil puts himself at risk because he’s convinced that Katelyn’s family, too.

“We recently upgraded microphones,” Matt explains, swiping through his tablet while Andrew tucks the small piece into his ear, “because someone doesn’t like to wear a headset and we still need to know what he’s saying.” Matt says the accusation fondly while casting a glare over Andrew’s shoulder, though it’s evident that the aggravation over the matter is real. Andrew can relate. Neil just flips Matt off without looking away from Aaron.

“Now,” Matt flips the tablet around to show Andrew the map on the screen, “Aaron and I will be working from here,” he indicates a building, “but we’re hoping to get Dan a little closer. Your target is staying here, fifth floor, and we managed to snag you a room on the third. She’s already checked in, and she’ll be out of there Sunday morning.”

“I read the damn dossier,” Andrew says, feeling Neil come up behind him, arms hooking around his waist to draw back his temper.

Neil rests his chin on Andrew’s shoulder, humming softly in a mindless tune. It’s his anxiety, always kicking in at the start of the mission and never settled until they’re ass-deep in the work. “Keep an eye on her movements tomorrow morning,” Neil says, tipping his head to the side to study the screen of Matt’s tablet. “I want to know when she wakes up, if it’s with an alarm or a phone call from the front desk or what.”

Matt nods, and Andrew watches Aaron slip around behind the tall tech wizard to grab the shoulder bag that Allison made for Andrew. “We’ll try to keep Dan about five minutes away, but Chicago traffic is thick and unpredictable,” Aaron says, handing the bag over so that Andrew can sling it from his shoulder. “If everything goes as planned, you won’t need her and you can just walk down the street after the target leaves.”

The nod that Neil gives in response digs his chin into Andrew’s shoulder. “It’s just a quick in and out, like Wymack said. We’ll be on a plane home Sunday afternoon.”

Andrew isn’t quite as confident, but they’ve handled more difficult missions, so surely a quick information grab will be easy. “When is Kevin going to be in position?” he asks, directing the topic away from the deep end of cockiness.

Matt checks his watch. “Any moment now. As soon as he’s set up, you’re both clear to leave.”

With a sigh in Andrew’s ear, Neil slips away. Andrew follows the motion with a twist of his body in time to watch Neil take his engagement ring from around his neck, holding it out to Andrew. “We’re just business partners this time,” he reminds, voice full of longing and regret. Pinching his mouth, Andrew slips his own chain over his head, wrapping up the two pieces of jewelry and tucking them safely inside a pouch in his shoulder bag.

“Only for a weekend,” Andrew says, and is successful in getting Neil to smile.

[werenzki]

Jamie Benn #2

A/N: alright folks, so this is going to be a multi-part imagine (like 2 or 3 parts)  with more of a plot line than most, like of stuff beside the whole lovey dovey romance... but hope you like it :) also fair warning all the remaining parts probably won’t be as long.. i just got carried away like always.

Word Count: 3,057

Family dinners weren’t exactly your thing. You arrived and immediately were compared to your oh-so-lovely cousin, Tyler Seguin. It was a curse being born only two months after him. Cause all eyes lit up at his achievements while eyes narrowed and frowned at whatever you had going for you at the same age. It wasn’t your fault you weren’t a high paid NHL player.

“Y/N,” your aunt, Tyler’s mom, called for you as you walked through the front door.

“Hi,” you smiled while wrapping your arms around her and returning the tight embrace. Since the day you were born, you and her had a good relationship, seeing as she and her sister - your mom - were always close growing up too. And with you not having any siblings, you were around her and her kids a lot.

“How’s it going?” She asked, keeping an arm around your back and rubbing slowly.

“Good,” you smiled, “is mom here yet?” You asked and glanced around the living room to your left - only to not see her honey brown hair.

“Not yet,”

“Oh,” you sighed, “I thought she’d be here by now,”

“You know how your mom is,” she smiled while trying to keep the emotions light, “always late,” she added with a chuckle.

“Right,” you nodded.

Ever since her and your dad got a divorce months ago now, your moms been a little more spacey than usual. She was sort of unpredictable and kept quiet about how she was really doing. 25 years of marriage, all down the drain thanks to your father. You’d never forget the phone call you got from your aunt, saying your mother had been hiding in her guest bedroom for two days and that you needed to come talk to her. But you were all trying, her too, and things were starting to get better again - you hoped so at least.

“Y/N!” You recognized Candace’s voice before turning to see her waving you into the dining room to your right.

“Go,” your aunt patted your shoulder and nodded towards the dining room. “We’ll talk later, hopefully your mom shows up soon,”

“I’ll text her,” you noted before walking off to where Cassidy was grinning at you.

The moment you got into arms reach, her fresh set of nails were digging into your arm. You winced and hissed through your teeth before shaking your arm from her death grip. Narrowing your eyes at your cousin, you noticed how giddy she was as her grin hadn’t left her lips.

“What is your deal?” You barked.

“Hush!” Candace muttered, then she was looking over her shoulder quickly and just as she opened her mouth to talk, Tyler cut her off.

“Already crabby, huh?” Tyler teased you with his usual wicked smirk and annoying look in his eyes. Sure, you two were close, but since you had hung around the family so much, he was more like an annoying brother than a cool cousin. But he did have his moments, you’ll give him that much.

“Hey, Ty,” you rolled your eyes and walked up to give his a lazy side hug.

As you stepped out of his embrace, you noticed he wasn’t standing by himself. Beside your cousin was a familiar face, one you’ve only seen on tv or on the ice during warm ups when he’d flash you a toothy smile. But never had you had the pleasure to actually meet Jamie Benn. He was giving you that classic sweet smile and watching as you hugged Tyler. Now you knew why Candace was freaking out, the two of you had exchanged some words of just how cute the Dallas captain was.

“What are you, two bottles of wine in already?” Tyler continued to tease you, which caused your eyes to drift away from where Jamie stood and back to your cousin.

“Actually I’m behind my usual schedule,” you sighed dramatically, “I had to drive here so I’ve only been able to chug a bottle in the driveway,”

It wasn’t a lie. You had sat in your car for nearly 30 minutes, taking decent sips of straight from the bottle and looking through your Instagram app. Some may say it looked sad and hopeless, but to you it was just another family get together. Speaking of, you were still confused as to why Tyler had brought along Jamie.

“Wait, actually?” Jamie questioned, confusion clear on his face.

“Oh no word of a lie bro, Y/N turns full alcoholic when it comes to family stuff,” Tyler explained as he slapped the back of his hand on Jamie chest. He continued to look a little confused but just shrugged his shoulders and left it at that.

“I’m Y/N, by the way,” you introduced yourself to Jamie while sticking out a hand for him to shake. In which he struggled to switch his beer bottle to his other hand before shaking your hand with his slightly wet one due to the moisture from his beer.

“Jamie,” he smiled.

“Tyler is absolutely horrible at introductions,” you stated.

“Oh trust me, I know,” Jamie chuckled and nudged Tyler a bit. Your cousin pushed him back, being the competitor shit he was, and with that you excused yourself to walk past them and into the kitchen.

You wasted no time walking to the wine fridge and finding your favourite. Reaching up, you grabbed ahold of a glass that was big enough for you and filled it up way more than most wine drinkers would. After taking two large gulps, you were caught off guard by someone sneaking up behind you.

“Haven’t even been here an hour and you’re already into the wine,” the low deep voice caused you to turn around slower, delaying any time before you had to stare into those disappointed eyes.

Your grandfather was a kind man, with a hard stare and an intimidating overall look to his face. Most would be surprised to look through your childhood photos and see him sitting with you as you read princess books and handed him tea cups. But those days were over, and he was his normal hard self.

“I’m thirsty,” you shrugged.

“Don’t get crazy, Y/N,” he warned with a finger pointed towards you. You gave him a tight smile and nodded. Then as his attention was taken away by someone else, you grabbed ahold of the neck of the wine bottle and slipped back into the dining room.

“Hey, is your mom here yet?” Cassidy, your youngest cousin, asked as you took the free seat beside her at the table. Jamie sat directly across from you -being the first you noticed - with Tyler beside him and Candace sat at the head of the table to your right and Jamie’s left.

“Uh, no,” you answered, taking another sip of wine.

“Our moms been talking about her more recently, saying how she’s not really-”

“Subject change, Cass,” you cut her off and gave her a serious look - wide eyes that looked off to Jamie in the corner of your eye. Cass’s lips formed a thin line as she realized her mistake.

“Sorry,” she mumbled before taking a sip of her drink. Knowing how the Seguin family rolled, you knew the 20 year old was drinking vodka clubs. A rich sounding drink for a wannabe rich kid. But you loved her, sometimes.

“So,” you said while looking across the table at Jamie. He still had a skeptical look in his eyes. “What brings you to a Seguin family get together, Jamie?” You asked the burning question.

“I invited him,” Tyler answered with a shrug.

“Oh,” you said.

“Yeah,” Jamie paused, “I really didn’t have anything better to do with my Friday night anyways,”

“Doubt that,” you snorted before taking another sip of your wine, “I can name a hundred other places I’d rather be than here,”

“A hundred?” Jamie questioned, an eyebrows raised in a taunting way.

“Yes,” you smiled.

“Don’t make her list a hundred places, cause she actually will,” Tyler groaned to his friend.

Jamie chuckled, making your heart all but skip a damn beat. The man was a good looking fella and you just knew that charm radiated out of him. It was Jamie Benn after all, the captain of the Dallas Stars who was all smiles all the time. He seemed like he could be a good time, but really only time would tell as the night went on.

You noticed he drank his beer almost as quickly as Tyler did. By the time you were finishing up your second bottle of wine for the night, Tyler and Jamie had a couple of beers each beside them on the table. Almost an hour had passed and it seemed your grandparents were tiring of waiting for their middle child, who you called mom, and told everyone to help themselves to dinner.

“You still make gravy volcanoes with your mashed potatoes?” Tyler questioned. He laughed while pointing his fork where you were pouring the gravy into the hole you had made for it in your pile of mashed potatoes.

“Jeez, I remember when grandma used to do that for me when I was a kid,” Cassidy said.

You rolled your eyes at your cousins while you made your way back into the dining room. Everyone had sat down now, which meant you’d be pulling up a chair at the kids table. It really wasn’t a kids table, anymore, but since there was not enough seats at the dining table you Seguin kids knew your place. Thankfully, your uncle Scott whom was the youngest of your mothers siblings, would sit with you guys too.

“I think it’s s'cute,” Jamie stated while taking the seat beside you.

Your cheek had to be flaming red at his soft words. Also the man sounded ridiculously cute saying s'cute. You chuckled and poured the fresh bottle of wine into your glass.

“Thanks,” you smiled.

Jamie didn’t respond, instead he smiled at you before you both indulged into your dinner. Your uncle Scott made casual dinner conversation, being that he was only ten years old than Tyler and you, it was always easy to get along with him. You guessed it was because he grew up with two older sisters, therefore he saw the opportunity of acting like an older sibling with you two.

Everyone was in that sort of daze after a big meal, picking at what was left on your plate with your fork while holding your glass of wine. After dinner was when the real fun began at the Seguin get togethers. As you had relaxed back in your chair, your legs had managed to gently bump into Jamie’s. It was a innocent physical contact, but as he brushed his leg against your time after time, it made your stomach feel hollow and your head get dizzy. The wine was definitely getting to you now.

“Look who finally showed up,” your uncle Scott said with a grin. You looked over your shoulder, bumping into the arm of Jamie’s that rested across the back of your chair carelessly. Walking timidly into the house was your mother.

“Hi Scotty,” she said with a smile as he came up to hug her.

Everyone else echoed a hello to your mother as she dropped off her purse at the staircase and walked into the dining room. She stopped at the back of your chair, looking briefly at Jamie - which queued him to introduction himself - before her eyes landed on you. Your lips weakly tugged into a smile as you took in the bags under her eyes and just the way she looked too tired for her normal self. And here you were thinking she was doing better.

“Hey kiddo,” your mom said as she patted your head.

“Hey,” you mumbled back.

It didn’t take your grandparents any longer to start asking questions. Your mom sighed and brought herself closer to her parents. They asked where she had been, what made her think they would always wait for her, and then they struck a cord that even bothered you. They brought up the divorce. You shut your eyes and leaned back in your chair, bringing your glass of wine to your lips and finishing it off.

“At least they’re not picking on your life, like usual,” Candace said, her voice sounding closer as if she had leaned towards you. You opened your eyes to see you were right, her arms were against the table as she leaned to you.

“I mean, they still kinda are,” you muttered while pouring the rest of the bottle into your glass.

“Let’s head out to the deck,” Tyler suggested while picking up his plate. As you were getting up out of your seat and pushing in your chair, Jamie grabbed your plate and put it under his. You furrowed your brows, which he smiled in return before turning away and following Ty into the kitchen. 

The night went on and soon enough all the family was outside on the large patio and sitting around the fire pit. You ‘kids’ stuck around the patio while the adults started up the fire and sat around in the old camping chairs. As the sun was setting slowly, you were getting closer to your quota and drinking your wine while whinnying with Cassidy to Shake It Off by Taylor Swift. 

You were in the middle of jumping around and singing the verse - acting as though your bottle of wine was a mic - when you noticed just how much Jamie had been keeping his eyes on you. You grinned and turned to sing back at Cassidy as the course started back up again. 

“Wait a second,” you stopped mid-singing and turned back around to look at where the boys were sitting with Candace at the patio table. Tyler and Candace both had to turn their heads to look at you, while Jamie was already staring back at you. “Isn’t your phone plugged in, Ty?” You questioned.

“Yeah,” he shrugged. 

“So you’re telling me that you have a Taylor-freaking-Swift song on your phone?”

“He’s played more of her songs at the arena too,” Jamie stated and sipped his beer. He lifted it up and saw it was now finished, his brows pulling together in confusion. Most people drank more around you Seguins. 

“Did you need another beer?” You asked, your voice was softer now as you ignored the continued conversation of Tyler’s sisters picking on him. 

Jamie looked up at you and smiled, “yes please,” 

“I’ll be right back,” 

As you were closing the fridge, you were met with your mother staring back at you. She sudden appearance scared you, causing you to clench the beer bottle to your chest as you caught your breath. Letting out a deep breath, you shut your eyes and then looked back at your mother. 

“You scared me,” you stated. 

“You’ve been all over Tyler’s friend,” her voice wasn’t soft like you once knew, instead it was hard and meant to be hurtful. You swallowed and rolled your lips into your mouth as you held back from talking back to your mother. “You’re drunk,” she spat out.

“I’ve drank just as much as Tyler has,” you said.

“Oh quit trying to pull Tyler down, lord knows he’s acting better than you are,” she said. That’s when you could tell she had to had slammed something back. Looking to your left, you caught your grandfathers bottle of rum looking a little emptier than earlier. 

“Lord knows if I would have brought Jill tonight, he’d be all over her,” you exclaimed, “and I’m not even being bad, mom,” you added, your voice sounding a little bit winey as she narrowed her eyes at you. 

“Quit trying to lie to me,” 

“No, you know what mom,” you saw black as you started to spit harsh words back at your mother, “where even were you tonight? You disappeared and then come here and get wasted off your ass,” 

“Sounds familiar,” she huffed. 

You wanted to scream back at her. But instead you took a deep breath and shook your head. Here you were thinking you’d be hating tonight due to Tyler and whatever b-s your family had to compare you two about. Who knew your night would actually be ruined by your mother. You pulled out your phone and ordered an Uber without another word being exchanged with the narrowed eyed woman standing in front of you. 

“Where are you going?” She called after you after a minute of you standing there, you realized you still had Jamie’s beer and wanted to give it to him before you ran off. 

Just as you opened the patio door, you nearly ran into Jamie, causing you to stop in your tracks and hold out the beer. He immediately sensed how your emotions had changed. His eyes softened as he leaned down a bit and try to capture your eyes with his. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, his voice just above a whisper. 

“I’m leaving, tell everyone I say goodbye,” you said. 

Jamie didn’t reply, so you turned on your heels and walked down the hallway. Just as you were slipping into your jacket and throwing your purse on your shoulder you got the notification that your Uber had arrived. As you twisted the door handle open, you were turned back around by a large hand wrapping around your arm. 

“Can I get your number?” Jamie asked quickly. 

“Uh,” you paused and saw your mother walking towards the patio door behind Jamie, “yeah,” you nodded and he handed you his phone. 

“I’ll call you,” he said with a smile. You only could muster up a smile and nodded in response before turning back around and walking out of the house. 

No way in hell could you predict that was how your night at a Seguin family get together was going to go tonight. Four bottles of wine, shameless eye fucking with your cousins teammate, your grandfathers disapproving voice and your mother drunk ruining it all. But, on the bright side, you did get Jamie’s number. 

You smiled as a text from an unknown number came onto your phone screen just as your Uber pulled onto the main street. You unlocked your phone and read it, knowing very well it was Jamie. 

Sucks you left, hope you’re okay.. you’re missing out, we found the rest of Tylers secret swift music lol