#and when I told her that she told me I couldn’t reschedule unless I had proof so um. i took the test. anyways so yeah I wasn’t counting on

[waytooinvested]

Forgotten, Not Forgiven - Chapter 25

This and previous chapters are also on AO3

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‘Ten minutes Ms Luthor.’

Lena acknowledged the warning with a nod, and skimmed through her note cards one more time before heading to wait by the stage door, Jess following at her heels.

It was the final event on their tour schedule before they flew back to National City tomorrow morning, and it was a big one. Representatives from just about every newspaper and media station in the state and beyond would be there, ready to spread the word about the emissions converter far beyond the realms of tech and business executives to (hopefully) inspire the hearts and minds of the public on a global scale.

It was understandable therefore that when her phone rang with six and a half minutes to go until she was due to step out onto that stage, she didn’t pay it much attention.

Lena got dozens of phone calls most days, and while the majority of them were important matters demanding the attention of L-Corp’s CEO, very few were anything that couldn’t wait a couple of hours, especially during a major press event. Still, just to be safe she had given her phone to Jess and asked her to answer and triage anything that came through, and give her any urgent messages. There were only two numbers that she had told Jess to hand over to her directly, and the owners of both knew her itinerary for the week and would never dream of calling her right now unless there was a serious emergency, so it was safe enough to ignore-

‘Ms Luthor, I’m sorry but it’s one of your priority numbers. What would you like me to do?’

Lena’s attention snapped to Jess, and she held out her hand for the phone.

Alex.

Oh well, she had probably just got her times mixed up, and thought that the press event was just ending, rather than just starting. She glanced at the time – still six minutes to go before she was due on stage, she could make this quick.

‘Alex, this isn’t really a good time, can I call you back in a couple of hours?’

‘Lena…’

Alex’s voice sounded strange. Choked up and shaky, and nothing like her usual self. Adrenaline surged through Lena’s system and she clutched her phone, her mind instantly leaping to worst case scenarios.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s Kara.’

Lena closed her eyes.

Of course it was Kara.

‘She got picked up by our ambulance diversion alert about half an hour ago, and now she’s in the med bay. She’s stable, but…’

Alex broke off with another small, strangled sound, and Lena’s stomach twisted.

‘What happened to her?’

‘I don’t know. She was unconscious when they brought her in, and she hasn’t woken up yet. Apparently someone found her in an alley looking pretty badly beaten up and called 911, but no one saw what actually happened. Lena... can you come?’

Lena glanced over at the stage door and the assembled stakeholders, journalists and investors she knew were waiting beyond it, then turned her back on them all.

‘I’m still out of town, but I can be there within a couple of hours. Less if you can arrange clearance for my helicopter to land directly on the DEO helipad.’

‘Consider it done. I’ll have someone waiting to meet you there.’

‘See you soon.’

Lena terminated the call.

She allowed herself precisely four seconds to feel the wave of emotions the news had brought on:

Shock.

Terror.

Grief.

Fury.

Then on the fifth second she put them aside, and turned her focus entirely on what she needed to do next.

‘Jess, we’re going to have to cancel. I have to leave.’

Her assistant gaped at her, shaking her head in disbelief.

‘Cancel? Ms Luthor, we can’t. You’re due on stage in four minutes. Everyone’s here, everyone’s waiting. If we cancel now the whole launch will be impacted – there’s been so much build up, and we won’t be able to reschedule, not with the same reach we have now.’

Lena wanted to scream that she didn’t care, because the woman she loved was currently unconscious and if things took a turn for the worst and she wasn’t there, she would never forgive herself. But she knew that Jess was right. Cancelling now would put a black mark on L-Corp’s reputation that would be hard to overcome, and would doubtless irreparably damage several important client relationships. She couldn’t cancel.

But she couldn’t stay either.

‘Okay… okay, you’re right. So... what if you did the speech?’

‘Me?? But I’m not a scientist, I’m just your assistant, I can’t do it!’ Jess protested.

‘I know. I’m sorry to put this on you, and I wouldn’t if there was any other option, but there isn’t time to get anyone else here and brief them. You’ve been practising this speech with me for days, you know it as well as I do by this point, and you’d have the notes. There are some expected questions and answers on the back, but if anyone asks something you don’t know the answer to just explain you’re here filling in due to an unavoidable emergency and don’t know all the details, but that we will gather any questions and answer them in a press release within the week. And of course you’ll have Raj and Amanda to do the actual product demonstration so you won’t be alone up there.’

‘But what would I tell everyone when they ask why you’re not here?’

‘Tell them I have a burst appendix and had to go to hospital.’

Jess’s eyes widened in alarm, looking her up and down as if wondering whether she should be dialing 911.

‘DO you have a burst appendix?’

‘No. But I promise you this is as much of an emergency as if I did, and it’s easier to explain.’

Jess swallowed hard, looking pale beneath her layer of foundation.

‘Ms Luthor I want to help you but I’m really not sure I can do this…’

Lena put her hands on her assistant’s shoulders and looked into her eyes, trying to steady the desperate tremble in her hands to convey rock-solid confidence in her proposed plan.

‘Okay. Jess, I know I’m asking a lot of you and this is not in your job description. If you really don’t feel you can do the speech then that’s fine, I’ll just cancel and take the hit on the launch. But if you can do this for me, you will get a twenty thousand dollar bonus before the week is up, a ten percent ongoing pay rise, and my undying gratitude.’

It was a lavish promise, but likely only a fraction of the amount it could cost L-Corp if she cancelled the whole event, and right now money was the last thing Lena cared about.

Jess bit her lip, then Lena felt her shoulders straighten under her hands, resolve stiffening her spine.

‘… So I guess I’m making a speech.’

She let out a breath.

‘Thank you Jess. Seriously, thank you. I don’t know what I’d do without you. Okay, I have to go.’

‘Good luck Ms Luthor.’

‘People who have done me favours this huge call me Lena.’

Jess smiled faintly at her and nodded.

‘Good luck… Lena.’

‘Good luck to you too Jess.’

And then she ran.

The journey in the helicopter was agonising, but at least she knew that with every wumph of the rotor she was getting closer to National City and the DEO. For once she didn’t even think about the possibility of crashing. All she thought about was Kara, and what the hell had happened to her to leave her beaten and unconscious in an alley.

Whoever had done this she hoped it had been worth it for them, because Lena was going to track them down, and if Kara didn’t come out of this one hundred percent recovered she was going to kill them. Slowly.

She was about 30 minutes out when she got a text from Alex:

Alex: She’s awake

Relief swept through her, and Lena read the short text five or six more times to convince herself that it was really real and she wasn’t just seeing what she hoped to see. She wanted to grill Alex for more details of exactly how Kara was and what had happened to her, but she clenched her hands into fists to quell the urge to type out her string of questions.

If Kara had only just woken up she would need some time before they started interrogating her, and Alex would want to focus on her sister right now.

Lena would get her turn.

Still, she kept her fists clenched tightly for the remainder of the journey against the temptation, so that by the time she arrived she had tiny, crescent shaped gouges across each palm.

As soon as they touched down she was out and running again, the agent who had been sent to meet her barely keeping up as she dashed past him to the elevator. Now she was so close she found every second of delay unbearable.

The interminable time it seemed to take for the elevator door to close.

The slow descent through the layers of the DEO building that made her want to dash out and take the stairs instead, even though she knew logically that standing still in an elevator would get her to the med bay faster than her own legs could.

But she wasn’t moving, and that left too much space for her to imagine what would be waiting for her when she finally arrived.

Kara, beaten and bruised and barely conscious.

Kara vomiting blood onto her sheets from internal injuries that her body would never normally have been capable of sustaining.

Kara relapsing from a brain bleed and seizing, or slipping into a coma.

Kara broken and in pain and…

At long last the doors opened and Lena burst into the med bay at a run, to find-

Kara, sitting propped up against several pillows, one leg in plaster, a bandaged wrist, and a large white dressing pad on her forehead. Her face was scraped and a little swollen, but she seemed fully alert, and the worst of Lena’s worst case scenarios unravelled and evaporated as she moved swiftly to her bed side.

‘Kara! Oh thank god. Kara.’

It was all she could manage as she drank Kara in, reassuring herself once and for all that she was alive, and alert, and showing no immediately obvious adverse affects from being knocked out.

‘Lena, hey! You came to see me! You didn’t have to do that, aren’t you meant to be giving a big speech right now?’

‘Never mind my speech. Are you alright? Kara, what happened? Did someone do this to you? Who do I need to kill.’

Kara chuckled, clearly not taking the question as seriously as Lena had meant it.

‘No, no I’m fine honestly. Nobody did anything to me, I just-’

She glanced up at Lena and bit her lip, then winced when her teeth met the split, swollen skin there.

‘Ouch! I keep forgetting about that.’

‘Kara, you just what?’

‘I just… fell.’

‘You fell.’

‘Yep!’

‘Down the stairs?’

‘Not exactly…’

Kara wriggled awkwardly against her pillows, as if she thought she might be able to hide from Lena’s stern gaze if she burrowed down deep enough.

‘You’re not allowed to be mad at me when I’m hurt, okay? Alex already gave me the lecture.’

Lena absolutely did not agree to that. She folded her arms and used her very best do-not-mess-with-me tone.

‘Kara Danvers, what did you do? Did you try abseiling by yourself? You promised you would wait until we’d done the safety research!’

‘I wasn’t abseiling!’

‘Really?’

‘Really really.’

But Kara didn’t quite meet her gaze, and Lena’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

‘So what were you doing?’

‘I just… well, I happened to see this video of a guy doing parkour on Youtube, and I thought it looked really fun. I just wanted to try it, it was going really well and I was so sure I could make the jump between those two buildings. It wasn’t even that big of a gap!’

‘You- are you seriously telling me that you got hurt because you literally jumped off a roof. For fun. Without any kind of harness. I’m not missing a subtlety here.’

‘Um… maybe a little bit?’

Lena sat down on the hard plastic chair at the bedside, her legs suddenly unable to support her own weight any longer, and took hold of Kara’s uninjured hand. How was it that she had made Kara promise not to abseil on her own, only for her to do something even more dangerous by essentially doing the same thing but without the rope?

‘Kara. Please. For the sake of my blood pressure, please promise me, no more extreme sports that don’t involve a proper safety harness and a qualified instructor.’

Kara grimaced.

‘Parkour’s not really extreme extreme.’

‘KARA.’

‘Okaaaay. It’s not like I’ll be up to jumping off any buildings for while anyway – it’s going to be weeks before the plaster comes off. I’m going to lose my mind.’

Lena relaxed a little at the promise, and allowed her expression to soften from stern to sympathetic, though she still couldn’t quite take in the fact that the beating she had been so sure had happened all the way here was actually entirely self inflicted.

‘Good. It’s going to take at least that long for me to recover from the shock of you almost dying because you “saw a guy do it on Youtube”. You almost gave me a heart attack.’

‘I’m sorry…’

The apology sounded so genuinely woebegone that Lena didn’t have the heart to stay angry with Kara, despite the fact that she richly deserved it (she jumped off a roof. For fun). She sighed, and stroked a consoling thumb across the back of her hand.

‘You won’t lose your mind. You might be stuck in one place for a while, but I’m sure we can find other ways to keep you entertained while you’re recovering. I’ll help you.’

Kara brightened instantly.

‘Does that mean you’ll do karaoke with me?’

‘What? No!’

‘Pleease? We can do a duet. It would make me feel better.’

She was giving Lena a full on puppy dog eyes look now, complete with as much of a pout as she could manage with a swollen lip and gravel-grazed cheek, and even though adrenaline was still coursing through her system and she absolutely shouldn’t be this easily won over after the shock Kara had given her, Lena couldn’t help laughing.

‘I know exactly what you’re doing, and yet somehow it still works. I will think about it.’

Kara grinned.

‘Yay! Oh this is going to be so much fun.’

‘I didn’t say yes!’

‘Yes you did.’

And, well, she wasn’t wrong. It looked like Lena was going to be taking part in karaoke night.

She could practically feel the entire Luthor line turning in their graves.

‘Okay, okay, you have exacted all the promises from me that you’re getting for right now. What do you feel like doing next? I think I still have a pack of cards in my purse if you want to play a game, or I could probably find a laptop we can borrow to watch netflix. Or do you need to sleep? Are you hungry?’

‘A game sounds nice. And if you’re offering I could go for some jello. That’s what people always eat in hospital shows, and being here is making me crave it even if this isn’t a proper hospital.’

‘Alright, I’ll be right back.’

Lena touched her lips briefly to the uncovered part of Kara’s forehead in a quick kiss that she hoped might just about pass for platonic, then slipped out the room to find Alex waiting for her in the hallway.

Her friend looked pale and haggard, as if she had been awake for two days straight, even though it had only been a few hours at most since Kara had been hurt. She looked almost worse than Kara did, and about how Lena herself felt.

‘She told you what happened?’ Alex asked.

‘Yes. I can’t believe she did that.’

‘It’s a bad sign, isn’t it?’

Lena glanced back at the closed med bay door and beckoned Alex away down the corridor. Kara might have lost access to her super hearing, but she still had sharp ears, and there was no point taking chances. Even once they were well out of range of any possibility of being overheard, she kept her voice low.

‘It’s not good. Without powers it’s sheer luck that a fall like that didn’t kill her, and even that wasn’t enough to overcome the fear barrier and let her fly. If she can’t break through it even to save her own life, I’m not sure she will for anything.’

All the time they had been working together to get Kara’s Supergirl memories back Lena had never seen Alex break down, but now tears spilled down her cheeks and she let out a shaky sob.

‘Fuck.’

Physical affection between them was mostly limited to the odd shoulder squeeze interspersed with minor acts of violence, but at the sight of her tears Lena pulled Alex into a tight hug without a second thought.

‘Hey, it’s okay! Kara’s going to be fine, and we’ll work this out. Lex may be a devious shit, but you and I can beat him, I know we can. We just need to find a way to give Kara more help to face her fears than we have been so far. We can do this Alex.’

Alex hugged her back, hard, and allowed herself a few hearty sobs against Lena’s blazer before straightening up and wiping her eyes.

‘You’re right, we are a kick ass team. I’m really glad you’re here Lena, I don’t know how I’d get through this without you. Whatever happens, you belong here now, you know? You always will. Even after all this is over.’

Lena felt a warm glow at Alex’s words, and hoped that she was right. She wanted to belong with them. But she wiped her own eyes quickly, and tried to stay practical – it was what they both needed right now.

‘So I’ve been thinking about what’s going to happen when Kara’s ready to leave the med bay. With a sprained wrist and a broken leg, she’s not going to be able to manage by herself for a while.’

‘Oh, yeah, well I figured I’d go and stay at her place for a bit. We’ll drive each other nuts, but it’ll be fine. We lived together as teenagers without killing each other.’

‘Yes, that’s one option. Or… Kara could come and stay with me.’

‘Wait, seriously? Don’t you think that might be too much for you given… you know…’

Alex made a vague gesture that Lena knew was somehow meant to encompass her unspoken feelings for Kara, Project Atlantis, their complicated history, and the more recent hiccup over William and his investigation.

‘...everything?’

‘I can handle it. Besides, it makes the most sense. Kara’s apartment has all those stairs, she’d be practically trapped in her own home once she made it up there, and yours only has one bed, plus there’s Kelly to think of. I have a private elevator to the penthouse and a spare bedroom, and anyway, my job allows much more flexibility to work from home than yours does, so I can be there with her 24/7 until she’s well enough to start doing some things for herself.’

‘I… yeah. Yeah, if Kara’s on board that does sound like a good solution. Thanks Lena.’

‘Of course. Now, next problem: do you have any idea where I could get hold of some jello around here?’

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Sitter

Mycroft Holmes x Bethany Wheeler (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 22 - For The Ages

Mycroft was a little nervous, he didn’t think there was much reason to be, because Bethany didn’t expect anything of him, but somehow the nerves got to him more than usual. He text her to say he would pick her up a little later than usual due to some meetings he couldn’t reschedule, and then proceeded to put on his newest dark blue suit. He’d been keeping up with his workout routine and felt he looked worthy of a dinner date with Bethany. It was the first time he’d really felt like that and he was certain she’d appreciate it.

He got through his day as quickly as he could and told Anthea to divert his calls where appropriate unless it was an emergency. She gave him a knowing smile and agreed.

Mycroft got into the car and made his way to Bethany’s home, driving past the house that was still being cleared out. He felt something of pride in his chest that he was able to help in some way.

Bethany stepped out of her front door, wrapping her grey coat a little tighter around her body, he was glad she was at least staying warm, the last thing he needed was for her to freeze on their way home.

‘Mycroft.’ She smiled at him as she stepped into the car, he could just see the bottom of the same mauve dress she wore the first time they went to dinner, her slender legs slipping into the same black heels. Stunning. ‘How are you?’ She asked, happily.

‘Fine.’ He nodded.

‘Fine? You want to talk about it?’ She offered, kindly.

‘Not at all.’ Mycroft smiled. ‘What have you been doing today?’

‘Well,’ she took an excited breath. ‘It was my turn to go over to Sylvia’s to do some housework this morning, but when I got there, someone else answered the door… her carer.’ Mycroft sucked in deep breath and nodded, pretending he had no idea what she was talking about. ‘Thank you.’ She said, quietly.

‘You’re very welcome.’ He felt her hand slide over his, her much cooler skin made his heart inflate. How was she always so soft?

Mycroft began his routine of tracing over every part of her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, taking note of every detail he could, but somehow, always, he missed out on the crucial details that told him she was a lifelong musician.

‘Have you spoken to Sherlock recently?’ He suddenly asked, turning to see that her eyes had been closed as she absorbed the feeling he had been creating unknowingly.

‘Sorry, erm, no I haven’t recently.’ She said, almost waking herself up and trying to refocus. ‘We spoke a little once I was out of hospital, he just asked me how I was. Why?’

Mycroft was a little too busy staring at her every feature to answer immediately. ‘He mentioned something about music. I’m sure he’ll get in contact at some point.’ Mycroft was suddenly completely uninterested in music or Sherlock or anything that wasn’t sitting in the back of his black town car looking into the darkened eyes of Bethany Wheeler.

He scanned over her face, taking note of her freckles lightly scattered over her cheeks and the small creases around her mouth and eyes indicating a life time of smiling and happiness. The image of her suddenly in pain as he told her he loved her, flashed in front of his eyes, it was real for a moment, he could feel his chest aching and his heart breaking. Why did he allow his mind to wander to something so painful?

‘What are you thinking about?’ Bethany asked, bringing him back to the present.

Mycroft just smiled and shook his head. ‘Nothing that will make you happy, I’m afraid.’

Bethany watched him, concerned, but not pressuring him to talk or do anything he didn’t want to. She was incredibly accommodating that way, never wanting him to be anymore or less than himself, but he was still contending with the deserving nature of their relationship, if he could indeed call what they had a relationship.

They arrived at his home and Mycroft was around the other side of the car to open the door for her in seconds. She chuckled at him, not teasing, more appreciatively and thanked Andy for picking her up. He nodded to the driver, still not comfortable calling him by any name, and led Bethany inside.

They decided to order in as once again Mycroft failed to plan, why did he always fail to plan ahead where Bethany was concerned? She was in a good mood and looking forward to settling in the projector room.

Mycroft poured her a glass of wine and watched her choose what they would watch together that night. She carefully placed the tips of her fingers over each label, biting her lip or furrowing her brows as she read the titles, some she smiled at, others she grazed over with disinterest, until she landed on one that looked interesting. He wandered over to see what she’d picked and smiled.

‘The Strange Woman,’ he chuckled. ‘How fitting. Any reason for the choice?’

‘Just seems to fit the evening, I think.’ She smiled up at him sweetly. His gaze drifted momentarily to her mouth and he would have kissed her, but his courage failed him.

Mycroft was just a little frustrated, but excitement soon took over as Bethany asked him to show her how the projector worked. His explanation was long and detailed, and he was sure in moments that she wasn’t really listening, but if he’d learnt anything in the past few weeks, it was that she was always listening.

Bethany, under his supervision, set up the film for them to watch just as the doorbell went. He excused himself to retrieve their food and felt his anxiety rising as he realised, he’d left her alone with one of his most prized possessions. He was in a small internal battle with himself as he tried to convince himself that everything was fine, but also worried as she may not have been confident at dealing with any issues that might have arisen.

Mycroft looked up as he entered the kitchen to see Bethany leaning against the door frame watching him.

‘I could hear your anxiety across the house.’ She rolled her eyes.

‘Impossible. You can’t hear anxiety.’

‘Oh really? So, you weren’t just thinking about how you left me alone with your projector?’

Mycroft didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. She just laughed, shaking her head and helped him get dinner ready, he would spend hours in the following days trying to work out how she knew what he was thinking, but for the time being, he just wanted to focus on the present.

They got comfortable at the kitchen table and he asked her about her dissertation. She spent most of dinner, explaining things that he only partially understood, it had been a long time since anyone confused him with words, but it was a testament to her intelligence that she could speak with such precision and so fluidly.

Mycroft asked the occasional question, and she had an answer every time with a brief explanation. She loved the subject of science and she loved the chemical aspect of it the most, but it was becoming very clear, very quickly that Bethany knew a substantial amount about surrounding subjects as well, including biology, physics and now mathematics.

‘Numbers just confuse me sometimes,’ she chuckled, sipping her wine as Mycroft cleared away their plates. ‘Bit of a tricky conundrum in the scientific field, but I suppose I’ve got to work hard at something.’

‘That suggests that your studies, thus far, have been incredibly easy and therefore unchallenging.’ Mycroft stood up, putting the dishwasher on and shoving his hands in his pockets behind his chair.

‘It does suggest that doesn’t it?’ She chuckled.

‘Why don’t you just fast-track?’ He picked up his glass, taking a mouthful. ‘It seems obvious that you could have completed your degree well within a year, potentially taken only another to complete a masters, PhD, or whatever other qualification you desired.’

‘Yeah, I probably could’ve done.’ She nodded, sitting back in her chair, her dress moving a little further up her knee to reveal the top of her thigh, making his mouth water.

‘Then why didn’t you?’

‘Because I would need to study every hour of every day,’ she laughed as if it were obvious. ‘Mycroft, I have other things I like doing, you know, other priorities, like Rosie, like music and travelling and my friends.’

‘I understand that, but you have a mind capable of extraordinary things, why waste time not filling it with as much information as you can?’ Mycroft frowned.

‘Isn’t having a happy life more important?’

Mycroft stopped for a moment and thought on what she was saying, there was something he was missing.

‘Look,’ she said, standing up. ‘I can fill my brain with every fact under the sun, I can study, learn, fast-track through anything I want, but I won’t be happy and no one will be better for it. I’m motivated by the things I enjoy, but if I don’t take the time to enjoy anything, then what is it all for?’

Mycroft was surprised by her logic, it made sense he supposed. She smiled all the time, because she was enjoying herself and everyone around her smiled as a result, including him. He couldn’t deny his progress at work when he thought about her, she distracted him often and confused him almost always, but she always made him work harder. Maybe she had a point.

They headed into the projector room and Mycroft let her get comfortable, taking her shoes off and pulling her knees up to her chest, while finished getting the film ready. Once he was done, Bethany leaned over to get the lights. The only illumination came from the screen and in a lot of ways, Mycroft preferred that. He loosened his tie and sat down next to her.

For some reason, he automatically put his arm behind her, allowing her to shuffle closer, she knew he liked to feel her against him, it had been a topic of conversation fairly recently over the phone, but again, she wasn’t making fun of him for it.

Mycroft liked how engrossed Bethany became, she enjoyed the story and thought there was something beautiful about the film. It wasn’t one of Mycroft’s favourites, but he was starting to appreciate it in a new light. He’d tried to steal a few glances at Bethany while she watched, but every time he did, she smiled just enough to let him know she knew he was watching her.

It was just as the film was coming to an end that Mycroft realised that while one hand was behind her, stroking her shoulder gently, the other was across his waist and delicately touching her arm. It was just his fingertips, but enough to be able to feel the soft skin that was her signature. Mycroft could smell the ginger much more strongly now, he turned slightly feel her body gently pressed into the side of his and thought it wasn’t enough.

He gently pressed his lips to the side of her head, feel the soft hair against his fair and felt settled for a moment. He pulled away, the shame over his forward action getting the better of him and he began to remove his hands as well, she hadn’t expressly given him permission to touch her and the thought that he might have been taking advantage crossed his mind.

‘Don’t.’ Bethany whispered, startling Mycroft a little. She turned to face him, her eyes were heavy and black, her hand stopped his from moving away from her arm. ‘Don’t stop.’ Was it a beg? Was it a simple request? Did it matter?

Mycroft couldn’t tear his eyes away, she wanted him to continue to touch her, perhaps kiss her. He debated for only a second before giving in.

Mycroft brushed the back of his fingers down the side of her arm, his eyes focused on the way her skin reacted to his touch, the little bumps forming indicating either she was cold or… well, she wasn’t cold.

He went slow, no longer using just the back of his fingers, but his whole hand to stroke and caress her arm all the way down to her fingertips. Mycroft had failed to notice she had a few tiny scars, most of which just looked like cuts from her adventures abroad, but some he couldn’t identify at all and he was desperate to know.

Something in the back of his mind had him desperate to know every inch of skin on her body, to know what it had been through and how it worked. He wondered if it was a normal response, but he knew if he told Bethany, she wouldn’t think any less of him.

Mycroft lifted his gaze, still tracing over the thin skin on the inside of her wrist, her breathing was shallow and quick, her eyes were closed and her lips parted just slightly. She was exceptionally beautiful, half illuminated by the light from the screen that was concluding the film.

Mycroft felt himself lean a little closer, the side of her mouth twitching in a smile as she felt him moving. His eyes grazed over her face once more before he took the plunge and touched his lips to hers. Bethany let out a small gasp, but she was the one to lean in for more pressure, taking him by some small surprise. Mycroft didn’t let the chance go to waste though, he brought his hand away from her wrist to cradle her face, listening to the quiet whimper of emerging from Bethany.

He felt himself take control of the kiss and explore her mouth the same way he had done before, but still managing to rediscover her. Mycroft never thought it possible to have done the same thing more than once and still not feel fully satisfied that he knew it inside and out, but once again, Bethany was proving him wrong.

Mycroft felt her hand place delicately on his thigh and it gave him a moment of hesitation. He pulled away just enough to realise what was happening, or rather what could have happened.

Bethany smiled against his lips. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘I can wait.’ She began pulling her hand away, but Mycroft’s chest began caving in again.

‘I can’t.’ He breathed. He felt a desperation take over that he’d never felt before.

Mycroft felt her hand return to his thigh and he sucked in a deep breath, he could somehow feel the sensation running through the rest of his body and it only made him want to kiss her again. Bethany’s hand stroked just above his knee, nothing too extreme, yet the contact alone was enough for him.

He kissed her more desperately, his teeth dragging over her lip and a much breathier sigh came out, one that Mycroft was instantly addicted to. He swallowed the sigh and began his passionate attack again, repeating the motion and getting the same result. What made him stop was Bethany’s hand moving further up his thigh.

Mycroft was all too aware of the effect kissing Bethany was having on him, it was one thing to kiss her against his kitchen counter, another for her to actively seek out that part of him.

‘Mycroft.’ She breathed, panting a little, much to his liking. ‘If you’re not ready-‘

‘I am.’ Mycroft panted, desperately. He leaned his forehead against hers, again feeling like he was disappointing her. ‘I just…’ This time he could feel her smile and it grounded him once again.

‘You won’t disappoint me.’ Bethany told him, softly. ‘It’s not just about me.’ Her thumb brushed over the outside of his thigh and it sent another rush through him. ‘Do you want me to stop?’

‘No.’ Mycroft breathed, suddenly not in control of his words anymore.

Bethany smiled, but it was the sound of the projector running out of film that broke the moment. She giggled and took her hand away, knowing he couldn’t just leave his projector like that, it had already been broken once thanks to John and Sherlock’s antics, he wasn’t risking the repairs that were made.

Mycroft pulled away and took a moment to regain his senses. His head was light and a little dizzy, it took him more than a moment to actually get up and deal with the projector. Bethany just sat, much the same a little dazed, but she couldn’t stop smiling at him and Mycroft suddenly felt a bravery take over that he desperately needed the first time he thought about her.

Mycroft held his hand for Bethany to take, she did with a small frown and stood so that she was almost pressed against him. The smell of ginger ignited him once more and he felt his courage finally take hold. He slowly leaned down to press the softest kiss to her lips. He felt the shivers running down her arms as her hands came up to his chest.

‘Bethany.’ He breathed.

‘Yes.’ She breathed back, an answer to the non-verbal question.

Mycroft took her hand in his and led her down the corridor to his bedroom. He felt himself starting to get nervous, but the second he closed the door and turned to see Bethany spinning back, her dress flowing around her waist just a little and her dark frizzy hair catching in the moonlight, his chest began caving in again.

Two strides and his mouth was on hers once more. His hands delved into her soft hair, hers were on his waist as she moaned against him. Mycroft found that the more desperate and needy he appeared, the more positively she responded. Bethany’s small sighs and whimpers, turned into moans and Mycroft devoured them all.

He felt the bed just behind her, making them stop mid-kiss. They both breathed out a chuckle and Bethany looked over every part of his face, before sitting back on top of the bed. He hadn’t quite noticed that she’d unbuttoned his waist coat the entire way, but in an uncharacteristic moment of desperation, he took it off, throwing it somewhere behind him, his tie following closely.

Bethany reached up, gently guiding Mycroft to follow her back to lie on the bed. He could feel every curve of her body beneath him, he mentally scanned down his own body, taking careful note of the connection points and memorising how they felt, the shape, the warmth, the desire it spurred on inside him.

Mycroft let his eyes graze over her face once more, she looked so happy and he couldn’t help his own smile at how happy she was. He let his lips graze hers once more before kissing her with more intensity, his hips pushing into hers, her back arching just a little every time, pushing her chest up as she felt him move against her.

Mycroft wanted to find out more about the way her body reacted, his hand came up, his thumb grazing her bottom lip, but somehow her tongue instinctively licked the tip, making him groan and shudder. He was fascinated at the way her tongue moved around his thumb and soon his hips were grinding against her as she sucked gently.

He took the opportunity to guide her head upwards so that he could press his lips to the impossibly soft skin along her jaw, moving down her neck and making her mouth open and release his thumb. Mycroft made her sigh and groan as his mouth begun to work out where her skin was most sensitive, he wanted to hear her, louder and more pronounced, to know that he was the one allowing those sounds to emerge from her at all.

Mycroft descended down her neck to her collarbone, his tongue came out to trace along it and felt her hands twisting into the fabric of his shirt. Her leg came up to his waist and on instinct alone, Mycroft moved his hand from her face to smooth skin.

The contact between his hand and her smooth leg, had Mycroft stilling, breathing hard against her chest. He’d expected to feel the fabric of her dress, but was somehow surprised that it might have fallen away. He moved his hand slowly from midway down her thigh almost to the curve of her hips, he could feel small bumps and a scar in his brief exploration and wanted to know how she got them.

‘Mycroft?’ She whispered, he’d stopped moving and naturally she was kind enough to be concerned for him.

Mycroft looked up at her swollen lips, a pride that his kiss had been responsible, and her heavy, dark eyes that showed concern for him. Her fingers traced his jaw, trying to assess his expression, but he didn’t have an explanation, he just wanted to feel for a moment.

Bethany smiled, realising he was fine, her fingers moving to the buttons of his shirt, going slow enough for him to stop her, but he didn’t want to, he wanted her to continue. The tips of her fingers caressed the hair on his chest as she exposed more of him, she was gentle and caring and she felt so good that his eyes closed of their own accord, just to block out any distraction that took away from the feel of her soft fingers.

Mycroft felt her lean up and place a light kiss to his lips, she’d made it half way down his shirt buttons, caressing his skin as she exposed more of it, but now she was gently guiding him off of her so she could stand up. He watched her, feeling the slightly cooler air of the room hit his chest, but he was heaving breath into his lungs at such a rate that he didn’t care for it.

Bethany stood just a little away from the bed and smiled, biting her lower lip. Mycroft could feel his trousers, unbearably tight and restrictive. He watched hungrily as Bethany reached behind her, pulling the zip of her dress down at the back, before gently pulling the shoulder straps away and revealing what was the single most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Mycroft sat up straight, his eyes scanning over her quickly before going back to take every single detail in. Her smile seemed to pour out of everywhere all at once, he didn’t even know what that meant, but he could see it. Her legs were smooth, toned, to be expected from all the adventures she had, her hips just a little wider than average, but gave her waist that smaller quality, which also happened to make her breasts look bigger and softer. He noticed the scar on her thigh that he’d previously felt, another on her collarbone that his tongue had found, the two from the snake bites and another that curled around her ribs.

‘Beautiful.’ Mycroft breathed, not even really able to focus on a single part of her body without getting distracted by another. He swallowed thickly and let his breath go when he realised she was smiling and what seemed to him as a little bashful. Why would she be afraid of showing him her body? It was stunning in every way, especially when it was only covered by a pure white thong.

Mycroft smiled and reached his hand out for her to take, guiding her closer so he could once again inhale the ginger that he only associated with her now. She stood between his legs, one hand intertwined with his while the other, tracing fingertips from the bottom of her thigh to her hip, made her shiver.

He felt himself lose all control for just a moment and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her stomach. A wonderful sigh escaped her chest and Mycroft remembered something. He moved his lips towards her hips and her breathing became stuttered and shallow. Her hand grasped his a little tighter and tangle in his hair, indicating just how much she loved her hips being worshipped.

Before he could really stop himself, he hooked his thumbs into the top of her thong and pulled it down just enough to run his tongue from one side to the other.

‘Fuck, Mycroft.’ She groaned, so he did it again, changing up the motion, sometimes kissing, sometimes licking and even gently biting at the thin layer of sensitive skin. Bethany responded to every movement, every intention he had to fill her with pleasure and listen to her moan, was understood by her and it gave Mycroft a courage to give into her completely.

Her hand was pushing his shirt away and Mycroft interpreted that as her own need to feel him against her skin as well. He continued placing messy kisses to her stomach, but quickly went about unbuttoning the last few buttons of his shirt and tossing it aside. Bethany gently stopped him from returning to her as she took a moment to gaze down as his body.

Mycroft felt a wave of shame, he wasn’t nearly as beautiful as she was, at least that’s what he felt, Bethany didn’t agree. She lifted his head to look at him properly and smiled a slightly weakened smile.

Bethany then did something Mycroft never quite felt he ever deserved; she began to kneel down in front of him. He felt his chest panting hard in anticipation, she didn’t break her gaze and Mycroft watched as her fingers open his belt, avoiding the obvious protrusion. She was being precise and clinical in a way, she knew what she was doing and it made Mycroft breath another laugh, making her smile.

Bethany slowed down, making sure that he was okay with everything she was doing. She then unzipped his trousers, the sensation sent small vibrations through him that made him break his gaze and take a deep calming breath. Mycroft lifted his hips so that she could bring his trousers down, revealing his tight briefs. The next part had him slightly more hesitant.

She sensed his nervousness and lifted herself enough to kiss him. The kiss grounded him instantly and the smell of ginger made him need her.

Finally, Bethany ran her fingers beneath the waistband of his briefs and dragged them slowly down. ‘I’ve been thinking about this.’ She whispered, making him groan into her mouth again.

Bethany pulled away, Mycroft stared down at the most beautiful creature in existence and saw a hunger in her eyes. She licked her lips, before running her tongue from the bottom of his shaft to the very tip.

‘Oh God!’ Mycroft cried out, his hand going straight to one of the bedposts for support. He couldn’t quite handle both the sensation and the sight of Bethany working her mouth and tongue around his cock, but he hoped he would be able to at some point.

Mycroft let his head fall back and his eyes close as she moved her mouth slowly around him. The feel of her wet, warm mouth encompassing him was a feeling he would never forget. Her hands working with her mouth, over his hips, his thighs and her pacing were all on point, she listened to every small noise he made, every groan, every stuttered breath, she learnt exactly how to please him and more importantly to him, she learnt the moment to slow down and give him a fighting chance.

Mycroft felt his hand dive into her soft, frizzy hair and gently massage her scalp, anything to show his thanks for what she did, she hummed, chuckling as he did and Mycroft showed the ultimate control in not responding to it. He couldn’t afford to mess this up now.

He looked down to see her lips once again swollen and immediately cradled her face, kissing her deeply. Her lips were soft and it only made him groan. Mycroft guided her up, got rid of his trousers and briefs that were around his ankles and turned his attention to her thong. He didn’t have any nerves about peeling them away from her hips and discarding them somewhere with the rest of his clothes.

Mycroft let his eyes scan over her body once more. He breathed another laugh at how wonderful she was, how everything about her just seemed to be what he wanted without him knowing.

‘Come here.’ He said and gestured to the bed. Bethany just laughed and did as she was asked. Mycroft was once again on top of her and kissed her deeply, he didn’t dare press his body to hers just yet, he was saving that feeling for after he was done.

Mycroft looked down at her and gave a small smile, which seemed to excite her, but she couldn’t have known what was on his mind, could she?

He slowly kissed down her jawline, remembering what he had learnt about the sensitivity of her neck and exploited it to the maximum. He felt her hands running up his back and dragging her nails lightly over him, something else he didn’t know he enjoyed. But Mycroft continued to descend down her chest. He brought his hands up to feel the shape of her breasts, how soft and perfectly shaped for his hands they were. If he were that way inclined, he would have thought she was made to fit with him, but he wasn’t so his conclusion was that she was simply that beautiful.

It came as a small shock when he felt her body writhe beneath him, his tongue circling her nipple and sucking gently seemed to be something of another sensitive spot. Mycroft experimented for a moment, trying to find out what made her back arch the most, what made her moan out louder, what brought her closer to coming for him.

That was the goal, he wasn’t oblivious to what sex was all about, but everything felt different with Bethany, it felt more important in a way. Mycroft did everything he could think of, but eventually he realised that she needed something a little more. He brought his hand to her ribcage, lifting his head to capture her mouth, he lowered his hand, caressing her body gently and slowly, rubbing his thumb against the inside of her hip, feeling her mouth drop open.

Mycroft hovered over her, leaning on his forearm and wanting to hold her gaze while his hand gently moved her leg to open up to him. She was panting hard in anticipation as his fingers drifted closer to her core. Even Mycroft had to take a moment as he felt how wet she was, had he really done that to her? It was the ultimate indication that she really wasn’t making fun of him, surely that couldn’t be faked.

Mycroft’s lips grazed over hers as he slid his fingers through her folds, finding where she was most responsive, where she needed him to go, he listened and watched as carefully as he could, not missing a single thing, until he slowly inserted a single digit making her heavy eyes close and a deep moan emerge from her throat. It was a beautiful sight and a wonderfully pure sound, but he wanted more.

He began slowly pumping in and out, reaching deeper and finding a spot that made a thin layer of sweat form on her forehead. Mycroft then moved his mouth back to her neck, kissing, sucking, biting, anything to bring her higher. He descended, remembering every part of her body and the way she liked it to be treated, he didn’t stop, he kept going until he was between her legs.

It was never a strong skill Mycroft had, but he was certain he could do this for Bethany, he’d listened and made mental notes, revised them and he knew he could put them into practice. Mycroft used his tongue to lick through her folds and found the right pressure and pacing easily enough, but he needed to make her come.

‘Fuck.’ He heard her say without any hint of control. Mycroft groaned into the movements and felt the first indication that she was close, she clenched around his fingers, and it made him groan into her again. ‘Fuck, yes.’ She said again and realised that his enjoyment was what was bringing her close.

Mycroft devoured her and made it known just how much he loved what he was doing. Before he even got a chance to pick up any pace, Bethany cried out his name and clenched around his fingers, contracting against his mouth. It was bliss. Pleasure that Mycroft had never known. It was beautiful.

He slowly helped her descend and looked up to watch her chest heaving, panting more and more breath into her lungs. Mycroft removed his hand as slow as he could, kissing the soft skin of her inner thighs and taking a moment to appreciate the sound of her panting, clearly with a smile on her face.

Mycroft eventually made his way back up her body, seeing it in a new light and enjoying every part of it’s new hypersensitivity. He felt her body still reacting to him, her dark frizzy hair splayed out against the white sheets of his bed and an exhausted smile on her face. Mycroft smiled down at her.

‘That…’ she panted. ‘Yeah.’ She laughed and Mycroft took that to mean he’d done well. ‘I don’t think anyone… you know.’ Bethany frowned trying to remember.

‘You mean to say I was the first to make you… like that?’

‘Don’t get too cocky about it, you’ve set the bar pretty high now.’ She teased.

Mycroft chuckled and placed a kiss to her lips, tasting a thin layer of sweat. ‘I feel confident I can exceed expectation.’ He said, lowly, making her smile against his mouth.

Bethany’s body froze for a split second, she had an idea and it excited Mycroft. She guided him to sit against the pillows on the bed, making sure he was comfortable before getting up onto her knees. Bethany swung her leg over his hips and Mycroft pushed himself a little further up, preparing himself for what he thought was about to happen.

She was so stunningly beautiful in the dim light, her body was soft and warm and everything that ignited Mycroft to no end. He looked up at her and readied himself for the moment she took him inside her. She was incredibly tight and Mycroft, again, let his head loll back for a moment. He held her hips, just trying to control her descent, to slow her down a little and Bethany was entirely complicit. She didn’t want to rush this either.

Mycroft lifted his head to see her, just to watch her pretty face reacting and smiled, finding that her eyes had fluttered shut. Her hand was on his chest to help hold herself upright, the other was gripping the wooden headboard and finally, Mycroft felt himself surrounded by her.

He couldn’t resist, Mycroft wrapped his arms around her waist, pressing his body to hers and feeling every patch of skin against his chest. He took a moment to feel her hand tangled in his hair and to once again burn this moment into his memory. The smell of ginger and sex, the echo of moans and the sight of something truly spectacular.

Mycroft felt her hips moving just slightly and chuckled to himself, leaning back and watching as Bethany took control. She smiled as she moved, biting her lip, encouraging his hands to roam her body, if that was what she needed then that was what she would receive, he wanted her to come again.

Bethany’s hand released the headboard and snaked between their bodies. Mycroft was hypnotised by her, engrossed in the movement and the way she worked her body. He watched and listened and felt her get so close, just a little more and she would come again.

‘Bethany.’ Mycroft groaned, feeling her tighten around him, his voice seemed to do something, but again it wasn’t his forte, what did he say? He went with the only thing he could think of. ‘Will you come for me?’ His voice was more of a growl.

‘Fuck, yes!’ She cried.

Mycroft sat up, feeling Bethany clench tight around him, he swallowed her moans, devoured the sounds erupting from her throat and there was no stopping what was about to happen. He held her secure against his body, not leaving her mouth for a second, he moved them so he was once again on top and began thrusting into her at a pace he didn’t know he had.

He needed to see her, he wanted to look at her beautiful face, but he could feel her still reeling, still keeping a tight hold of him and her dark eyes piercing his was enough to make his whole body shudder. Mycroft thrust all the way inside her, coming hard, not being able to keep quiet and only her name emerging from his lips. It was all he could think of, the only thing in the entire world, nothing else existed.

His eyes had closed as he panted, regaining his breath, and he felt her lips graze his. Mycroft smiled, opening his heavy eyes and saw Bethany almost laughing she was so happy. He looked down and wondered how much longer his arms could hold him upright, he didn’t have much time left, they were about to give in.

Mycroft stroked his hand over her forehead and into her hair, examining her face in the afterglow and kissed her slowly. There was nothing sensual about it anymore, now it was comforting and grounding and reality was calling them back.

He slowly removed himself and sat back against the pillows, taking in the room again, still trying to steady his breathing and looked over at Bethany trying to do the same.

‘I love you.’ Mycroft frowned, not sure why he hadn’t said it since the day he thought she was going to die. Bethany looked over at him, startled that he’d said it, but soon began smiling uncontrollably. She rolled over to him and placed her head on his chest, he naturally came to wrap his arms around her body and keep her close.

‘I love you too, by the way.’ She said, making him chuckle. ‘In case that wasn’t clear.’

‘I had my suspicions.’ He teased and sure enough it made her giggle.

They stayed where they were for a few moments longer before deciding they both needed a quick shower and some water. Mycroft took note of her kindness on previous occasions and refused to let her do anything more than her body would allow.

Despite his own body not wanting to move or do anything more than he absolutely had to, Mycroft refused to let her go downstairs to get water, instead he retrieved it for her himself. He stepped into the shower with her and helped her clean her body, taking the clear opportunity to once again understand the way her body reacted in the afterglow.

Mycroft felt happy, he couldn’t remember the last time he could genuinely say that, but then he couldn’t remember very much at that moment.

They got into bed and Mycroft didn’t dare look at the time, instead he allowed Bethany to rest, and he instinctively curled his body around hers. It felt natural, no, it felt essential. Mycroft never wanted to know another day without her again.

END

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[starfleetwitch]

Happy to report I met Jemma at wales comic con in December and she was absolutely lovely she was so sweet and patient with everyone. She was great in the panel too though she was with the classic actors where she’s only even worked with Sophie and Janet. She did tell us that she was wary of doing cons as she’d gotten advertised for a London one but had already told them she couldn’t do it when it had been rescheduled before so they made it look like she cancelled a few days before. Hopefully she’ll do another one soon though and I’m really hoping Ingrid does one this year too

Hi Nony! AHHH! OH MY GOODNESS THIS IS AMAZING! I'm so happy you got to meet her! 😄 If at any point you saw a Bramwell or an Osgood (though there were a couple!) floating around... t'was I! She's so lovely at cons! I'm honestly so so happy for anyone who gets to meet her because it IS an experience! They say dont meet your heroes but she's honestly such a little (tall) honey bun! Oh no. I didnt realise the cons screwed her over like that though 🥺 Fingers crossed it doesn't put her off in future 🤞🤞🤞🤞

I'd LOVE IT if Jemma and Ingrid did a con together! I doubt they'd do one before the spin off encase it started rumours but if Osgood DOES end up in the spin off I dont see why they WOULDN'T do one unless the actresses really just didnt want to.

Thanks for telling me nony! I'm honestly so STOKED you got to meet her! 😁

[tacit-semantics]

Kinda miss working with z scores honestly I liked my little chart :/

[storiesbyjes2g]

Tuesday night came quickly. As excited as I was to have my children back, seeing Ali did not spark joy. Knowing what I know now... I just can't. Not yet, at least. Luckily, I didn't have to. He didn't come inside, and I was too busy running around the kitchen to greet them, anyway. I thought it would be a nice gesture to make something fresh and special to celebrate our victory, but I rescheduled my weekly therapy session to occur shortly after arriving home from work, so I couldn't dine with my babies. I'd canceled before and didn't want to do it again, so I kissed the kids, told them I was thrilled they were there, and that I had a very important phone call and not to disturb me unless it was an emergency.

Minutes into the conversation, I wished I would have canceled again. All those weeks, I'd done a lot of talking. The therapist lady would chime in now and then, but she mostly listened and took notes. I was curious to know what was her assessment of me and if she felt we needed to continue meeting. Her answer, three simple words, tinted my vision with red hues: you are selfish.

I'd heard that many times in various forms. "Are you that selfish?" "Stop being selfish!" "Am I selfish?" But no one had ever flat said you ARE selfish. I asked for that, so I shouldn't have been angry. But you know that didn't stop my temperature from rising.

I kept it cool, though. "Oh yeah? How did you conclude that?"

My blood boiled as she rattled off offenses my like charges at my trial. First, I disregarded my mother's decision to not get a dog and wore her down simply because I knew I could. Then, I kept my girlfriends at a distance, despite knowing they wanted to be closer to me. I persuaded Ali to marry me, disregarded his reservations, and forced Mommy to go along with it. This one may not have been intentional, but she thought it was selfish that I let Mommy do all the heavy lifting with the kids when they were babies. Cheating is always selfish, but the way I tried to hide it was even more selfish. Leaving my toddlers in the house alone was selfish. Telling people about the affair without considering Dwayne was selfish. She stopped there, but my brain filled in the silence with my most recent offenses. My skin was so hot. I'd never been so angry in all my life! Being called out like that was so humiliating! I hung up the phone and told her we wouldn't speak again.

I wanted to scream and curse her name, I couldn't. She only confirmed what I suspected and what people had said all along. Everything in me tried to find cause to deny it, but there was none. Honestly? It made everything clear, like blue skies. My wellbeing and agenda are always top of mind. That's not to say I don't care about anyone else, but I suppose I care about my own interests the most. According to the therapy lady, I've been getting my way and doing what serves me my entire life. Feelings aside, that had to be the reason I cheated on the most wonderful man in the world. Nothing else made sense.

As if I didn't have enough to process this week, Luca knocked on my door and said some man was here to see me. Who in the world wanted me at that hour? It wasn't terribly late, but all my friends with children usually visited before dinner unless we planned something for later. And what man?? I didn't have anymore male friends on good terms. After taking a few moments to calm myself, I went downstairs. Before answering the door, I peeked outside to see who had requested my attention. It was him, and I froze.

Why?? I was still processing yesterday's revelation and not in any condition to entertain his shenanigans! I knew I couldn't hide from him forever, but I wanted to face him on my terms! Why do my friends do this to me? They always... There I go, thinking of myself again. I halfway wished I never knew about this selfishness. The good thing about me and Dwayne was we were always open and honest. I could tell him I wasn't ready to talk, and he'd go away, no questions asked. But I suppose there's no harm in seeing what he wanted. Here goes nothing.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Time of Death

Dr. Derek Shepherd x Reader

Words: 1966

Summary: Receiving the news after coming out of a long surgery, Derek rushes to comfort his fiancé whose sister committed suicide.

Notes: I hope to write some fluffier McDreamy imagines and more for Grey’s Anatomy, but when I got this idea, I had to go with it. This is a very very dark story, so it will not be for everyone, but I really had an interesting time writing it. As always, I’d love to know your thoughts and if you guys are excited for more Grey’s Anatomy imagines. 

Warnings: Suicide, grief, guilt (This starts out fast so I’m putting the break at the beginning so if you don’t want to read, you don’t have to.)

-

You couldn’t hear them say it but you still heard it in your head. Time of death… You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at the clock. Time had stopped. Everything had stopped. As you looked down from the gallery, nobody in the O.R. seemed to be moving an inch. Until Dr. Bailey looked up at you. As soon as your eyes connected, everything started again but it started too fast. Your heart was beating too fast, your legs were moving too fast, the tears were coming too fast. 

Your sister was dead. She threw herself in front of oncoming traffic. Her body was so broken that even Bailey couldn’t put it back together. Your baby sister killed herself. 

Nurses and doctors alike watched you sprint by.  Fellow residents, interns, attendants, all of them watched you run like maniac through the halls of the surgical wing. Of course, you were careful not to be in anyone’s way, but you had to disappear. 

“What’s with Mrs. McDreamy?” Cristina asked George and Meridith quietly. 

“Her sister just died on the table.” Izzy sighed, having been with you in the gallery. She looked at the floor. “Jumped in front of a car.” The other interns’ eyes widened. 

“She killed herself?” Meredith whispered, her gaze following your running form down the hall. “Has anybody told…”

“He’s been in surgery for hours.” Cristina shook her head. “I doubt he even knows she was admitted.” 

“Should someone page him? Should someone go get Y/N?” George wondered but nobody moved. They all just looked at each other. Cristina crossed her arms. 

“I’ll go. Somebody has to go tell Dr. Shepherd that his future sister in law turned herself into roadkill.” 

“No.” Meredith blurted. Cristina’s bluntness was the last thing anyone needed right now. “I’ll tell him.” Meredith and Derek were at least friends. He needed to hear this from a friend. 

-

Derek smiled as the water ran over his hands. After several long hours, the surgery was a success. The 18-year-old girl was going to be okay. Thanks to him. Another life saved. His smile grew when Meredith stepped into the room. 

“Dr. Grey, you missed a pretty amazing surgery.” He beamed. Something about her face was off. 

“I’m sure you did very well Dr. Shepherd.” She wasn’t looking at him. 

“Meredith what is it?” He dried his hands quickly and followed her out into the hall. Her expression made that cocky smile of his fall. “Meredith?”

“A Cierra Y/L/N was admitted about when you started your surgery.”

“Y/N’s sister?”

“Yes.” She took a deep breath. “It seems that she ran in front of a semi truck. Dr. Bailey did everything she could but… she’s dead, Derek.” 

“Cierra… killed herself?” Derek ran a hand down his face. “Does anyone know why? Are they sure that’s what happened? Does Y/N know?”

“We all saw her run down the hallway, so I’d say she knows.” 

“Do you know where she went?” He exclaimed, raising his voice. He didn’t have time for the doe-eyed confusion. He needed to know where you were. Meredith just shook her head. He calmed down enough so he wouldn’t yell. “Thank you for getting me.”

He took off, scanning the hall for any sign of his fiance. As he hurried past doctors and patients, he thought of Cierra. He’d never even met her. Sure, you had mentioned that you had a younger sister, but you didn’t say much other than that. But suicide? It was how you lost your mom when you were in medical school. This was going to hit hard and he needed to make sure there would be pieces of you left. 

“Dr. Shepherd!” A voice called out behind him. He reluctantly stopped his pursuit to turn to Dr. Bailey. She gave him a sad, grim look. “We did everything we could, but the extent of her injuries… I’m sorry there wasn’t more I could do.” 

“Have you seen Y/N?” 

“Since she couldn’t operate with us, she stayed and watched from the gallery.” She sighed. She paused for a second before putting a hand on his shoulder. “I think I know where she might have gone.” 

Bailey had found you there once before. You’d lost a patient and needed a quiet place to be alone. If there was ever a time you needed a quiet place to go, it’d be now. She brought Derek to a closet on the fourth floor. It was mostly filled with extra linens and paper and such so it wasn’t used often. Bailey knocked on the door, but received no response. Slowly, she opened the door. 

“Dr. Shepherd?” She called out into the dark storage room. With still no response, she let Derek pass her. 

“Y/N? Honey, I know you’re in here.” His eyes adjusted and he could see a form standing behind one of the shelves in the corner. He exchanged a look with Bailey. She nodded in understanding. 

“I’ll go tell the chief. You’ll probably want to be heading home.” As she turned to leave, Derek put a hand on her shoulder. 

“Thank you, Miranda.” 

The chief resident quietly closed the door behind her and Derek walked further into the closet. The closet may have been small, but you felt far away. Hearing the sound of him approaching, you turned your head. 

“Cierra is… she’s- they said that she-” Every time you tried to finish the sentence, your mouth stopped. Like your body was trying to deny what your mind clearly knew. Derek tentatively put his hands on your shoulders. When did he get in front of you? 

“I know.” 

He pulled you to his chest and you tried not to push away. You wanted to. You wanted to run again. But his arms wouldn’t let you. He kept you from drifting away. 

-

Chief Webber had all of your surgeries for the next few days rescheduled or taken over by Dr. Bailey. Derek rescheduled the ones that he could, but some of his surgeries were on a time crunch. After he drove you home, he was paged back to the hospital for an emergency. He told you what it was, but you couldn’t remember. 

You didn’t even remember the drive home. You remembered the bloody surgical tools and the machines and the clock, but it didn’t have any numbers on it. You remembered running in the halls and Derek finding you in the closet. Now you were home. Now you were alone. Alone with the knowledge that you killed your little sister. 

Your brain started a single train of thought. You moved slowly, every motion draining more and more energy out of you, but you still made your way to your closet and found your suitcase. You couldn’t put this much pain, this much baggage on someone with a heart like his. To you, this was mercy. 

-

When Derek finally returned home, not a single light in the house was on. His shoulders were weighed down as he tossed his keys on the counter. The surgery was a success, but he didn’t feel that usual rush of adrenaline that came from saving a life. He just wanted to get back to you. 

He was about to call out for you when he saw something catch the light. Sitting on the kitchen table was your engagement ring. 

“Y/N!” He called out, tucking the band into his pocket and ascending the stairs two at a time. He burst into the bedroom and found your suitcase sitting on the bed, clothes hurriedly piled inside. “Y/N!” 

Light pooled into the room from underneath the bathroom door and was sure he could hear something inside. Derek knocked lightly before slowly cracking the door open. 

“Y/N?” His voice was quieter now but still held the same amount of urgency. You just whimpered in response. He opened the door fully, finding you sitting on the bathroom floor having thrown up any meals you had that day. 

“It’s my fault, Derek.” You cried, your voice so low he could barely hear you. “Cierra killed herself because of me. I can’t force you to live with that too.” You pulled your knees up to your chest. 

“Honey…” Derek sat beside you, putting on a hand on your cheek to make you look at him. “Cierra was sick. She’d been sick for a really long time.”

“She was sick because I left her.” You spat, jerking away. “I abandoned her when I moved here for my residency. I knew what she was going through, stuck living with my dad, and I went off to medical school anyway.”

“Deciding to make a life for yourself and to help save lives was not abandoning her.” He took your hand in his and this time, you didn’t pull away. “Y/N, you called Cierra every chance that you got. As far as you knew, she was getting help in San Diego. She told you she was getting better. You couldn’t have known how bad it had gotten.” 

“Then why did she come here, Derek?” You felt that sick feeling in your stomach turning and twisting again. “Why drive up to Seattle and jump into oncoming traffic close enough to be taken to Seattle Grace unless she blamed me?” 

Derek was quiet for a moment. Your body was still shaking from both sobs and from getting sick and you looked desperate for answers that he couldn’t give. 

“Maybe she wanted to see you one last time. This was her way of doing that.” 

It may not have been the answer you wanted to hear, but it was enough to get you to calm down. Derek shifted so that you were sitting in front of him, his hands rubbing soothing circles on your arms from behind. He gently kissed the top of your head and pulled your ring out of his pocket. 

“As for this…” He held the band out in front of you. You just stared at it, laying your head back against his shoulder. 

“I was leaving.” You were half packed before your body ached so much it made you sick. 

“I noticed that.” Derek blew out a long breath. “You said you ‘couldn’t force me to live with that’. Is that how you think? That leaving will spare me of your faults?” 

“I didn’t think that you…” You sighed, trying to collect your reasoning into words. You spun around so you were facing him, holding his hands in your lap. “Derek, you love saving lives. You walk into life ready to save someone else’s. I couldn’t make you look at me everyday knowing that I was responsible for Cierra’s death.” 

Derek lifted your hands up to his chest and laid them flat over his heart. 

“This day- this tragedy- does not define who you are. You are still the beautiful, talented, brilliant surgeon that I fell in love with. The one I asked to marry me. You will still be that woman tomorrow and the next day and the one after that. And if you ever need reminding I will ask you to marry me every single day until we walk down that aisle together because I’m not backing out. Better or worse.” His gaze searched yours for a reaction. “Okay?” 

All you could do was nod and lean back into his embrace. You stayed there on the bathroom floor, his legs on either side of you and your head tilted back against his chest. While Derek’s words didn’t erase everything from that day, they helped to take even just a little of the weight off of your heart. It was enough, at least for now and so you slipped your ring back onto your finger and fell asleep in his arms.

-

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination;  @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado; @suckmyapplejacks

[willyoulovemeinthemorning]

The Prodigal Daughter Chapter 1

Summary: As the secret daughter of Jason Gideon, you’ve always had a certain proclivity towards profiling. After finishing the Academy, you finally have your chance in the BAU- only months after your dad’s passing. Will it all be too much? Will you find yourself sharing another proclivity with your father for a certain genius with big puppy dog eyes?  A/N: Hello! This is my first fic in a very long time, but this story idea has been living in my head for upwards of 6 or 7 years! Please go easy on me, and I hope you enjoy! a big thanks to @candlesandsoftrain for being a great beta! Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader
 Category: Fluff/getting to know you games with the team Content Warning: nothing in this chapter except lots of flirting, tension, sexually charged drinking games, etc. Later chapters will include NSFW Word Count: 4000+

Chapter 1

The years moved by much too fast for your liking. You were older than you were willing to admit, and the years had been hard. Time moved so oddly- it was so difficult and slow when it was happening, but when you looked back, it was as if it sped by like a freight train.

Today was your first day at your new job-  you were 27 and you’d been waiting your whole life for this day to finally come. After hearing stories about your father all through your life; catching the monsters in the dark as well as those that hide in plain sight… you wanted to be a superhero too. And lucky for you, you had a certain proclivity towards reading people. So, you became a profiler. And after years of grueling school, training and fighting to earn your place with no one knowing the legacy in your blood line, you did it.

No, those weren’t tears in your eyes… it was just dusty in the bullpen, that was all. You could feel him everywhere. You knew this was where he lived and breathed and worked for so much of his life. Your mom never understood how you ended up being so understanding about never seeing him, while your brother spent so much of your lives incredibly bitter and angry at him for “abandoning” you both. You always told Stephen that dad spent every minute of every day trying to make the world a safer place for the two of you to grow up in. And now you could finally continue his life’s work.

You caught a few pairs of eyes looking at you when you entered the bullpen for the first time, walking through like you’d been there a million times before- because in your imagination, your dreams, you had. Dad was always so descriptive with his words, and it was never hard to get lost in his stories.

You walked right to the Unit Chief’s office, knowing that Agent Hotchner was already in there waiting for you. You were supposed to have your first meeting on Monday, but when the team didn’t get back in time from their last case- a strangler in Minnesota, he had called you and you rescheduled to accommodate those dang annoying serial killers. Now it was Wednesday, and you could feel the tired energy in the room. It was filled with the sounds of scribbling pens and pencils on paper, the groans and squeaks of chairs as everyone tried to stay comfortable while doing their paperwork. You spotted a few very attractive people around you, but tried to keep your eyes forward as you headed for your destination.

After knocking on the door, you heard a shuffling of papers as a low, gritty voice welcomed you, “Come on in.”

“Hello, Agent Hotchner. Nice to see you again.” You offered your hand, which he took with his baseball mitt sized one. It was rough and strong, and reminded you of your fathers when you were young. You could tell these hands had seen a lot of conflict.

“Y/N , you’ve grown up a lot since last I saw you.” He had a kind smile on his face, which surprised you, even after all this time. Aaron Hotchner was always such a serious man, even when you were younger. “And please, call me Aaron. You know that.”

You chuckled in response. “I know, but it feels weird to call you that now that you’re my boss.”

“Hotch will do then. Morgan will give you quite a hard time if he hears you calling me ‘Agent Hotchner’, I can promise you that. Sit, sit. Let’s get through all the necessary annoyances so I can properly introduce you to your new team.”

After all of the finalized paperwork and introductory nuisances, Hotch finally stood up, indicating it was time to enter the bullpen again, but with a promise of introductions to your new team. You felt a small pang in your heart. You wished your dad could have been here to do this instead of Aaron. He took notice of your second of discomfort- something you were sure to get used to quickly working with profilers.

“Y/N, he’s here… in you. I know how proud he would be of you.” He said to you with a hand falling to your shoulder.

With a smile, you accepted the comfort, turning to look at him again. “Would you mind… could we see Uncle Dave first? I think it would make me feel a little better to have him next to me for this.” That damn dust was at it again. You were fine, really. You’d been preparing for this emotion for months now- there was nothing to surprise you.

With a gentle smile, Aaron- no, Hotch, you remembered- nodded. “Of course. Follow me to his office.” It didn’t escape your notice that, as you followed him, you were on your way to your dad’s old office. Each step brought you to a place you’d heard about, thought about, dreamt about, but had never seen. But when you walked in behind Hotch, you knew this was nothing like your father would have kept it. It just screamed Rossi.

“Y/n! If it isn’t the smartest and brightest star from the Academy, falling right here into our laps at the BAU!” Dave cheered as he saw you, shooting up from his chair and almost running to you, pulling you into his arms while Hotch closed the door to offer you all some privacy.

“Uncle Dave, you can’t believe how amazing it is to have you here on my first day.” You said into his shoulder, holding him close. He was always such a big supporter of your career- there every step of the way whenever your dad couldn’t be. You always said that you were lucky- god blessed you with a loving, mildly helicopter mother, and two superhero dads so fight all the monsters for you.

“You’re gonna be great, kid. Unless your academy grades and reputation were all a lie to get you out of their hair!” He laughed, low and warm.

You giggled, pulling back from him and punching him lightly in the arm. “Rude.” You took a deep breath, and both men noticed that you were preparing yourself to say something important. “Aaron, Uncle Dave... I made it here on my own, with my mother’s maiden name and no one knowing who my father is. I am so proud to be the daughter of Jason Gideon, and I miss him every day… but I think I want to keep my birth last name a secret for now, if you’re both okay with that. They legally changed my name when I was a baby, and while I would be so proud to have his last name again, I’m- just not ready to hold up his legacy just yet.” You explained to them, hoping they understood. Your parents had decided very early on that they didn’t want you to have the last name Gideon. It was just- too dangerous. Your father had put away too many bad people, especially people that preyed upon little girls, to risk your life that way. So while you thought of yourself as Y/N Gideon in your mind, you’d never said it out loud before. Not once.

“Of course, kiddo. Whatever you want, we’ll follow your lead. Hopefully Garcia can’t find anything with your last name, but we’ll have Kevin keep an eye on her search history in case she finds anything. But if you’re worried about anyone finding out, I would tell her and promise her to secrecy though. Because if super tech genius finds out before you tell her… everyone will know.” He explained, and you laughed. You’d heard about Garcia. Your dad used to drive her crazy. You considered Rossi’s advice and nodded, understanding and deciding to think on it.

“Ready?” Hotch said after a moment, gesturing to the bullpen, where you could see several people grouped up at a desk, staring into Rossi’s office with curiosity and perhaps a little bit of uncertainty.

“As I’ll ever be.” Rossi squeezed your hand and you smiled at him, a big toothy smile shining back at you. With two men you knew you’d already trust your life with by your side, you walked out of the room knowing that these people who you already knew so much about would soon also hold your life in their hands. “Team, I’d like to introduce you to the new member of our team, Y/N L/N. She’s transferred in with top marks from the Academy, and she’s been highly recommended by all of her professors.”

You blushed at his compliments, rolling your eyes at him. “I didn’t have the highest marks in ALL of my classes. Shooting targets took me a while.” You smile, waving at the team awkwardly. “Hi everyone, it’s an honor to be here with you. I’ve heard so much about all of you. You’re all pretty famous around the bureau. I can’t wait to meet you all and get to know you as my team instead of people I’ve been idolizing for 10 years!”

Everyone laughed, and a tall, dark and handsome man walked forward with a giant grin on his face. “Hey, Y/N, I’m Derek Morgan. You are welcome to continue to idolize me as much as you’d like.” You could have snorted, he was so much like your dad described.

“Nice to meet you, Agent Morgan.” You said with a mildly flirty smile, holding your hand out to him happily. No worries for you, you were definitely going to like your job if you had him to look at all the time.

“That’s enough touching for now, little newbie,” a big beautiful blonde said from behind him. “That is my man-candy you’re ogling and groping, thank you very much.” There was no venom to her words, just something that you could only describe as adorable teasing. She was so colorful, it was almost as if there was a light shining around her. She was just a glowing ball of sunshine… You knew you’d be fast friends with her. “I’m Penelope Garcia, resident tech Goddess and most loyal beck and call gal.”

You took her hand and shook it, before doing a slight curtsy, earning you a giggle. “An honor to meet you, Tech Goddess Garcia.”

“Ignore her, they’re perfect for each other because of their over inflated egos.” You heard a blazé voice coming from the other side of Derek Morgan. “He’s eye candy for us all, much to her dismay. She’s never been one for sharing. I’m Emily, one of the few normal ones here.”

“Normal, pfft. She’s far from normal. You should hear her talk about her cat. Jenniffer Jareau, but my friends call me JJ.”

You took both of their hands in firm handshakes, grinning at them both. “Nice to meet you, and thank you for the permission to ogle, Agents. As far as normal, I sure hope not. Normal is vastly overrated.” You grinned at them. Damn they were cute. Was this whole team models who decided to become do-gooders and join the FBI?

“Halloweentown, 1998, said by Debbie Reynolds.” A small voice in the back of the group piped in, confident in words and speed, but somehow… demure and shrouded in uncertainty, too. The team parted so you two could see each other, and you swear your heart stopped beating for a few seconds. In front of you was the prettiest, most adorable, hottest guy you’d ever seen. He had a sexy professor thing going on, but simultaneously looked like he was an anxious teenager, terrified of being bullied by this newcomer.

You longed to hold him and protect this stranger from the rest of the world and heal any wounds he had succumbed to in the time before you. He was staring at you too, eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights, pupils a little bigger than you can only assume they would normally be. After a snicker broke you both from the weird moment, pretty boy smiled a little and gave an awkward wave. “Hi. Doctor Spencer Reid.”

Oh. God. Your heart stopped a second time, and you swore, this is what a stroke felt like. You’d heard about Spencer for the last ten years. Your father loved him almost as much as he loved you and your brother. Maybe even more sometimes. The BAU resident genius, IQ of 187, eidetic memory, born in Las Vegas and wasn’t allowed in most casinos due to his card counting ability. Ability to empathize and love in a beautiful and incredible way- your father adored him, and because of how he spoke of him, you… you’d always had a crush on this faceless idea in your head with his wild mop of hair and tall, lanky frame. You had a general picture from all these years, but nothing had prepared you for this.

“H-Hi. I’m Y/N. N-Nice to meet you.” You said, trying your hardest not to sound like a little school girl with a crush on her teacher. You’d just met the man, for god sakes. You heard another snicker, and this time you knew it was from Morgan just from the proximity of the sound and the testosterone you could feel from the gesture. You tried to ignore your flaming red cheeks, and held out a hand a second before remembering that he hated being touched by strangers. A big germaphobe, always calculating the risk of what contact could mean for him. But before you had a chance to pull away, he reached out and took your hand, giving it a squeeze. You must have looked as shocked as you felt, but no one else noticed because everyone was staring at Reid with the same expression you were wearing. And to be honest, he looked just as surprised, if not more so.

Garcia made a breathy squeak sound, and somehow, that broke the tension of the moment, and you and Reid pulled away at the same time, both looking like you’d just been shocked by electricity. You stretched your hand out, staring at it, feeling on edge all over again, thinking about how good his hand felt in yours, and how good it would probably feel other pla-

“Well, I hope you all will be on your best behaviors, and treat Y/N like you would want to be treated as a newcomer in a team like ours, seeing what we see.” Hotch finally broke the silence. “Y/N, if you have any problems, come find myself or Rossi and we’ll help sort them all out.” Nodding, you looked at him and smiled, suddenly very embarrassed that your boss and your uncle just witnessed all of that. As profilers, they were going to come to so many conclusions, and each was more embarrassing than the last.

“Pretty boy and pretty girl, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-” You heard Derek sing-songing and he walked away, looking like the cat who got the cream. He was interrupted only when Emily punched him quite hard in the arm, looking at you with a wink and a smirk as she headed back to her desk as well. You tried to avoid looking at the genius again, but it was… difficult to say the least. You wanted to memorize everything about him. You wanted to pick his brain and listen to every fact he’d ever memorized. You wanted to experience him in all the ways your father had gotten to and more.

You watched as the team dissipated and then your eyebrows furrowed. “Rossi?” You asked, stopping him in his tracks as he was headed back to his office. “Where’s my desk?” He looked over his shoulder at you and you could tell he was holding back a shit eating grin as he pointed with his thumb to the desk directly across from Reid.

Fuck. You both looked at each other… or well, you looked at him, and he looked away like he’d been caught doing something and sat down, looking at his paperwork blankly. As you headed to your new desk, you’d give anything to know what was happening inside that massive brain of his.

Staring at your empty desk, you imagined what you could put there. Pictures of your family, pictures of your friends and your cats… One day you would put up a picture of your father… one day. For now, you grabbed your briefcase from your side and opened it up. You started unpacking some of your first day necessities; pens and notebooks, little toys and bright objects to remind yourself that there is good in the world. Your pile of books out; you always kept at least ten books on you at all times. One for every kind of mood you could be in- and at least three that you hadn’t read yet and were planning on.

As you prepped your desk, you could feel those eyes on you, analyzing your every move. You wanted to look up and see if you could find what he was figuring out within those eyes, but you tried to keep busy so you wouldn’t embarrass yourself again.

“Another book nerd, I see.” You heard that deep, caramelly sweet voice behind you. Derek sat on your desk right next to you and smiled a toothy smile at you. “Pretty girl likes to read, huh?”

Smiling at him, you raised a brow. “Reading is an exercise in empathy; an exercise in walking in someone else’s shoes for a while.” You were about to quote the originator, but someone else beat you to it.

“Malorie Blackman. British children’s literature writer and science fiction author.” Your head snapped to the person in front of you, who wasn’t looking at either of you.

Smiling at him, you nodded, and then turned to Morgan. “Yup, Malorie Blackman. Empathy is a huge part of the job, right? Reading allows us to experience a million different perspectives- which, as proflers, is necessary to catch the bad guys. I read so I can try to understand as many perspectives in this world as possible.”

Derek looked a little impressed, at least, and you couldn’t get a read on the gorgeous mop of brown hair on the desk across from you. Derek picked up one of the books still on your desk, not organized in your little library yet. “I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings?” He comments, and you catch Spencer’s eyes flick up at the title, curious.

“It’s my favorite. Not only do I love birds, but I’m a very big Maya Angelou fan. I’ve… always kind of felt like a bird stuck in a cage. Flitting about, trying to figure out what to do with my life and who I am... No book has ever made me feel more seen or understood as a human being.” You caught those big, interested eyes and you almost felt like you might have shared too much. You’ve always been an open book, but somehow, the way he was looking at you made you feel more vulnerable than you had… ever.

Derek nodded and smiled, putting the book down on your desk. “Well, lady genius, I’m going to try and get everyone to get together tonight for drinks, would you be interested in getting to know us in a more fun environment, or would you rather just go to the library with Pretty Boy over here and nerd out together?” He teased, making both of you blush.

“I-I don’t know. I’ve spent all of the years of my adulthood studying and sleeping and working to get here, so I haven’t really… spent a lot of time at bars?” Admitting that wasn’t the best feeling, but better to be honest than try to make up a lame excuse.

“Do I hear we have a light weight to peer pressure?” Derek said, loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone else. JJ and Emily looked enthused, and Rossi poked his head out of his office to chime in.

“Someone’s convincing Miss nose in a book Y/N to go out for drinks tonight? I’m in and I’m buying!” That was met with an uproarious approval from everyone on the team, with the exception of Reid, who was just looking at you, seemingly waiting on you to decide.

You bit your lip, noticing how Reid’s eyes fell to your lips in reaction. Well… if you could spend more time with the prettiest boy you’ve ever seen looking at you like that more… “Well… I guess. Sure. Sure, okay, I’m in.” You finally agreed, everyone whooping and hollering in celebration at you giving in. “Doctor Reid? What about you?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, and you could swear you saw his eyes dilate more.

“Oh, pretty boy barely ever comes out drinking with us anymore. He’s always holing himself up in his apartment- books from floor to ceiling, books in the fridge, freezer, on the bed, in his drawers and closets…” Derek teased, reaching over to Spencer and ruffling his hair.

Reid looked at Morgan and shoved his hand away and tried to fix his hair, rolling his eyes. “I do not have books in my freezer. That would be a terrible spot to put them, it would completely ruin the delicate spines.” You smiled at him in support, and he sat up a little straighter. “I… I’m in. For tonight.” He looked right at you when he said it, and you couldn't help but feel a little flutter in your stomach at the idea that he was going just to get to know you.

Morgan seemed to be thinking the same thing, and the face he gave Reid as he stood up and sauntered away said more than he needed to outloud. Once Reid looked away from Morgan, your eyes met and you both smiled again. “You’re a fan of Maya Angelou?” He asked, nodding towards your book.

“I am. I was always drawn to books that had birds on the covers, but then I actually read it and realized how beautiful it is on the inside.” You held the book in your hands gently. It was a mutual love, one your shared with your dad.

“The number of bird species in a person’s surroundings correlates directly to happiness levels.” He said, smiling at you like you were the most interesting thing in the world. The attention should have made you uncomfortable, but it just made you feel warm… important.

“Really?” You searched his eyes, wondering how much information was in that brain, stacked away for use when necessary. “That’s so interesting. I thought most people found birds annoying because of all the noise.”

He shook his head. “On the surface, they think it’s annoying, but once one becomes used to the sounds all around them, they find the background noise comforting. Most people find absolute silence much more disconcerting.”

“Absolute silence, for sure. But comfortable silence between two people who find solace in each other… I think that’s my favorite background noise.” He looked at you as you spoke, a small bit of hope flickering in both of your faces. You’d felt… alone, since your fathers spirit left this world months ago. It had been so hard to be at school and unable to go to his services, terrified of people finding out who your father was and that information altering your career. You hadn’t even applied to the bureau until you had your recommendation letters in order- you didn’t want Aaron giving you any false starts just because he knew. You liked to visit his grave once a month and tell him all the things you wrote in your letters to him. You carried around his private notebook as a reminder of the people in the world he saved, the people you wanted to save. You clutched your briefcase close, knowing you couldn’t put it in your desk with Reid watching you so closely. You’d find time to slip it in later, when no one was looking. With that eidetic memory, you knew he’d recognize it immediately, and you didn’t want his curious gaze to ruin your secret just yet. You wanted the team to form their own opinions of you before they knew... because the moment they knew, everything would change.

Next chapter

[wndrcarol]

daddy’s favorite | ceo!c.d. | part 3

part one | part two

summary: working for your fathers company has its perks. But one of those perks is being able to gain connections.

a/n: okay this time I made sure to put the ‘keep reading’ tab bc it completely flew over my head adding it to pt.2 whoopsie. Alrighty, so this chapter we really start uh ,, getting into it 👀 some teasing bc why tf not

also! again, if you’d like to be added to the taglist for ‘daddy’s favorite’ then just let me know and I’ll be more than glad to add you!

au: CEO

pairings: Carol Danvers x F!Reader

other characters in chap.: Tony Stark (father)

warnings: nothing serious but some closeness ahem lmaO

———

Carol kept trying. Almost everyday it felt like. She would call your office, asking for info on the company to add to her records for the new deal and then would proceed to ask you out. Everytime you declined, even though you wanted to accept badly.

You thought if you kept her on edge about her asking you out, it would be a bit fun to just keep the confident blonde on her toes for a while. But, each time you fought with yourself to keep cool and not accept. But today was different.

Once again, Carol called asking for a certain file information to which you complied in giving to her. Then came her daily question.

“Still deciding on that date?” She asked through the phone as you smiled lightly, closing the paper folder infront of you. You could here her pen tapping on the table over the phone, anxiously waiting for your response, hoping today would be the day you’d say yes.

“I’ll go” you said, making Carol freeze. She didn’t know what to say next. She thought you’d give your answer of “I don’t know yet” or “things are so busy, I need more time” but she was stunned at your two words.

“You-“ she started, clearing her throat and composing herself before continuing, “you will?” She asked, feeling a bit giddy knowing you said yes.

“Yes, unless you don’t want me to anymore then-“ you said, smirking into the phone, playing along a bit more.

“No, no! Of course I do” she said, cutting you off as she felt a smile grow on her face. “Only took you a bit of time to say yes” she chuckled, smiling into the phone and playing with the phone cord. There she was, the smug Carol you partially began to adore.

“Doesn’t hurt to keep you on your toes” you smiled into your phone, unknowing to what Carol looked like.

“Well then, how about tomorrow night? I’ll pick you up from work” she said as you nodded your head before realizing she couldn’t see you.

“Sounds like a date” you chuckled, feeling the sensation of butterflies in your stomach slightly which caught you a bit off guard but enjoying the feeling at the same time.

“Alright, I’ll see you then” Carol said, smiling before placing the phone down and letting out a sigh of relief. Who knew a phone call could make a girl so happy?

-

The next day, Carol had called saying she’d be picking you up right from work which you didn’t mind but would have liked time to change into something better to go out in instead of your work clothes.

You decided against telling your father that you were going on a date with Carol. You knew what his reaction would be to hearing his daughter go out with his new business partner and it wouldn’t be pretty. Plus, he didn’t need to know everything that happened in your private life so there was no harm in keeping it under wraps.

Packing up your things and placing them into your bag, you began to put on your jacket when you heard a knock at your door.

Looking up, you saw your dad as he smiled at you before leaning against the doorway. He gave you an apologetic look and you groaned, stopping your actions, knowing what that look meant.

“I really hate to do this to you” he said, pulling out a stack of paper from behind his back and stretching it out towards you.

“Can’t I do it tomorrow?” You asked, walking slowly towards him, hesitant to take the pile of papers.

“These have to be finalized and in the system by tonight. I’m sorry, I should’ve told you earlier” he said as you sighed, grabbing the stack and turning around, placing them onto your desk.

“That would’ve been nice” you groaned out, beginning to take your jacket off.

“Did you have plans tonight?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at you as you walked around your desk, shaking your head and looking up at him.

“No, just was going to go home and watch movies” you said, lying through your teeth, praying he’d buy it. You were a pretty bad liar at times so this was one time you hoped you seemed convincing at least.

Your father looked you up and down before shrugging and giving you an apologetic look. “Well, this would be more eventful then binging a show in one night, right?” He said before getting interrupted by his phone ringing.

Picking it up and stepping out the room quickly, you sat down with a sigh. Now you had to call Carol and change the plans which you really didn’t want to do. You were excited for tonight, hopefully to get to know her better but the universe had other plans in store.

Your father stepped back in, putting his phone away and buttoning his jacket up. “I have to go. I’m meeting with someone over dinner for another deal” he said, looking at you apologetically once more. He walked over to you and pressed a small kiss on your head before walking back over to the door.

“I’m sorry again. Call me if you need anything, okay?” He said as you nodded, waving at him to leave. Letting out a sigh once you were alone, you picked up your phone and dialed Carol’s number, feeling bad to even tell her the change of plans.

“A little eager aren’t we” Carol picked up, a small smirk on her face as you chuckled lightly into the phone and she immediately knew your tone was off.

“Um, I don’t think I can make it. I have to finish up these reports by tonight and I know it’s going to take forever. I’m sorry” you said quickly, wanting to get over with telling her when you were met with silence through the phone.

“Hello?” You asked after a couple seconds, checking to see if you had been disconnected before you heard Carol speak.

“I’ll just come to you” she said, managing a small smile while feeling a bit sad that she couldn’t take you out.

“Are you sure?” You asked, feeling a bit hopeful knowing she suggested coming to your work but not fully feeling excited as you don’t want to jinx it.

“Of course! I’m going to let you reschedule when you just said yes to me” she chuckled which made you let out a small giggle over the phone as you began playing with the phone cord.

“Alright, sounds good then” you said as she nodded, smiling into the phone, feeling that giddy feeling again.

“Is pizza okay? I’ll pick some up on the way there” she asked, beginning to put things away on her desk with her free hand.

“Pizza is perfect” you said as she nodded, closing her drawer before standing up and grabbing her bag, holding the phone with the support of her shoulder.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon” she continued to smile before grabbing the phone with her hand and placing it down onto the receiver.

Placing your phone down, your smile still was on your face and you knew it wouldn’t be wiped off. Getting right into work, you made it your goal to get as much done as you could before Carol came.

-

Rubbing your hands over your face, you let out a sigh as you finally were able to relax a bit after inputting each page into the system online. Moving your hands away, you looked at your watch which read 5:45p. You had been at this for at least two hours and it also meant it’s been two hours since you had called Carol.

Hearing a knock at your door startled you as you turned to see Carol there with a small take out pizza box and a small smile on her face. “Sorry for the wait, the line at the place was long” she said, coming close and placing the box on the desk before standing up and shaking your head at her lightly. 

“Plus, I wanted to give you some time to work since it sounded it was going to be stressful” she said, looking around your desk and seeing all these pages around your desk. “Which I guessed right” she chuckled as you laughed along, gathering the papers and stacking them up nicely.

“Don’t worry about it. I got a pretty good dent in” you smiled at her before looking down, realizing you both needed plates. Excusing yourself, you made your way to the break room, looking in the cabinets for plates and two water bottles for you both before taking them back to your office. 

“Here you go” you said, handing Carol a plate and water bottle to which she said a small “thank you” as you sat down, taking a piece of pizza.

Taking a bite, you looked up at Carol who already had her eyes on you. Raising an eyebrow at her, you swallowed your food before shrugging at her.

“What?” you asked as she chuckled, picking up her napkin and wiping a bit of grease that had dripped onto your chin. 

Her movements were soft on your face and it made your heart feel as though it fluttered in your chest as you watched her hand. Pulling her hand back she smiled at you.

“Just had something on your face” she said before taking a bite of her slice. You sat there a bit dumbfounded before composing yourself and taking a drink from your water bottle as she began to look around your office a bit, getting a sense as to who you were before looking back at you.

“Thanks” you said, as she nodded, taking another bite of her pizza while continuing to look a you. You both sat in silence but it was nice. You’d say a couple words here and there, mainly about your day but it was comforting to have her there with you.

While finishing up her slice, she continued to look around your room, studying it. Studying and looking at every photo on the wall, things on shelves. Carol couldn’t help but smile when she saw photos of you being silly or smiling wide in some. She couldn’t help but think of how cute you looked in them.

Her eyes landed on one of your shelves and she couldn’t help but chuckle to herself. Placing her plate down, she got up and picked up the Magic 8 Ball that sat on your shelf before turning to you, holding it in her hands. She raised an eyebrow at you as you chuckled. Carol used to have one and would always use it so seeing it in your office just brought back memories.

“That’s my luck charm, I’ve had it since...forever” you said, watching her as she shook it, turning it over to read the answer before frowning. Wonder what she asked it.

“Helps me make big decisions. You should invest in one” you joked, smiling at her before getting up and walking over to her.

“Did you ask it about this date?” she quirked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. You chuckled, taking the ball from her and shaking it, turning it over to see the triangle showing ‘yes’. 

Turning it to Carol, you smiled at her and nodded your head. “But of course, doesn’t hurt to go against the oracle at times” you said, placing it back into her hand. Your fingers brushed hers lightly which made Carol shiver lightly as she looked up at you.

“Is that so?” she looked up at you before turning to place it back on the shelf in its rightful place.

“Didn’t hurt to keep you on your toes for while. I think you’d understand that” you said as she turned back to look at you, a small smirk evident on both your faces but hers read out a different meaning making yours to wipe off your face quickly.

Your confidence quickly went away as you watched her movements. She moved her hand from the magic 8 ball on your shelf before walking over close to you. You moved back until you felt the desk behind you, making you stop.

“You know it’s not nice to lead people on” she said, leaning you against your desk as her body moved closer to yours. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as you looked at her. All of a sudden, you felt hot. Like you were burning up from the inside. 

Her hand made its way to your lower back, supporting you while her other hand moved up to push away a piece of stray hair. Your mind was trying to register all the different sensations you were feeling. From her soft touch on your face to the hand on your back, your head felt fuzzy from it running a mile a minute

Leaning close to your ear, you could feel her breath against your skin and you closed your eyes, feeling soothed and aroused at the same time by the sensation.

“Especially people who really want a chance” she said, placing a small kiss below your ear lobe, making you sigh lightly as she pulled back, looking at you and smirking.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?” She said, moving her hand to caress your cheek before completely pulling away from you and began getting ready to leave like nothing happened.

You stayed in the same position, stunned as she put her jacket on and grabbed her bag before turning to you, her smirk still on her face.

“I’ll call you tomorrow” she winked before walking out your office and down the hall. You looked around, still stunned as you sat down on your desk. What the fuck just happened?

———

taglist: @marvelbbyx @mynameispurple @sat-yrr

feedback is appreciated!

[spencesglasses]

sweet creature (spencer reid x f! reader) pt 2

a/n: ah yes, a case chapter. this was gonna be longer but i didn’t want it to just drag on and i just ended up cutting out some parts soooo enjoy this 3k word chapter of y/n using her big galaxy brain to solve a case with just a pinch of fluff w spence :)

part one | part three

It was only the beginning of the movie when the weight of the day hit her. She snuggled further into the couch, trying to gain some extra warmth. Spencer had his apartment so cold, she could nearly feel the chill creeping up her body. Her eyelids began to close shut slowly, and the sound of the television lulls her to sleep. She was far too tired to keep herself awake, so she hoped that Spencer didn’t mind if she rests, at least for a few minutes.

Spencer keeps his eyes glued to the television screen, having been making commentary throughout, he didn’t even notice Y/N fast asleep. “You know, it’s actually scientifically impossible for someone to-“ He turns his head to look at her, and she lets out a quiet snore. The TV’s sound was barely audible now, Spencer turning it down so it wouldn’t wake her. He stood up to his full height and the freshly cleaned floor squeaks as his feet carried him to the cupboard that held spare linens and duvets.

He laid a blanket over her figure gently, careful not to disturb her. Taking the extra blankets, he spread them out, making a makeshift bed on the floor below her. He flickered off the TV and all that could be heard was the pitter-patter of the rain against the windows. Spencer let the layers of blankets engulf him in warmth, letting his eyes fall heavy and drifts off to sleep.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to the vibrations of her phone ringing. It was Anna. Wait. I’m still on Spencer’s couch. Shit! I was asleep longer than I should have! She sits up, checking the time, “I’m late to work!”

She tossed the blanket off her and tried to push herself off the couch. But then she sees him. Spencer curled up with a blanket that was much too small for him. She stifled a snicker and covered him with the blanket she was once using.

Before Y/N could leave, she noticed a pen and notepad sitting atop his desk. Maybe I should leave a note, she thought. She grabbed the pen and the black ink slid smoothly across the page.

Sorry to leave so soon… and for falling asleep during the movie. Lets reschedule? Keep in touch, 187! xx

-Your favorite barista

She heard Spencer stir in his sleep, and just before he could wake up, she was gone.

-

“Surprise?” Garcia questioned. “What surprise? What’s going on-” and then she realizes. “Oh, Coffee shop girl! You’re the girl from the coffee shop!”

Y/N hid a giggle behind her hand as she stood. “You told them about me?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she can see JJ’s head shoot up. “Yeah, Spence,” she says, tilting her head at him. “You told us about her?”

“I told Garcia,” he grumbles.

Spencer can feel the five pairs of eyes on him. He didn’t think that not telling the team about her was such a big deal. Why was it such a problem he kept something to himself for once? They practically live together. Spencer just wanted to keep someone who makes him feel like a person. He wanted to keep her so close to him because he finally had the chance to think about something other than work and the cases, and the people he couldn’t save. He wanted to be someone; to feel normal. In the time that it’s silent, he understood why Y/N didn’t tell him, but he sure as hell wishes that she did.

Spencer’s eyes flicker back and forth between her and the team.  “We should focus on the case.”

-

The first case Y/N works on with a team is fairly close, which she appreciated. She wasn’t particularly fond of plane rides but that was something she had to get used to. Joy, who she found out is Rossi’s daughter, had been writing a piece about violence against women on campus, and noticed a series of mishap in the area. After finding what she believed was more of a case than a possible story, she brought attention to a series of disappearances to the team’s attention once a young woman by the name of Bahni Desai had gone missing.

“4 cases in 9 years.” Derek speaks into the cell, sitting in the driver’s seat. “How come this hasn’t been on our radar?”

“Because the disappearances were in different states with different M.O’s.” Rossi explained over the speaker.

Y/N claimed her spot on the middle seat in the back, reviewing a case file. “The first missing woman was Kathy Miller in 2006,”

Morgan questioned. “So what’s the plan once we land on campus?’

“Track Bahni’s movements. Campus police checked her room, she’s not there. They taped it off for you.” Hotch instructed.

“What about her cell phone?” asked Spencer.

Y/N shifted in her seat, passing the file to Spencer and whispered to him. “It’s kind of cold in here, don’t you think?”

He turned ever so slightly to look at her. “I have my jacket in my bag if you need it,”

She dug to find the much-needed jacket and threw it over her shoulders. It was his FBI issued jacket, tapered at the sleeves and a bit oversized. It smelt like him, she noted. Cinnamon and coffee. She offered him a gentle smile. “Thanks, Spence.”

Spencer returned the smile, handing her back the file.

“It just pinged in her room overnight,” Garcia informed. “No credit card activity. I’ve confirmed with all the ticket agencies she didn’t take a boat, bus, blimp, or plane last night. Oh! The Dean's office just sent us her file from Judy Temple College. It looks like- Oh dear…” She trails off.

“Looks like what, Garcia?” Y/N urged, tugging the jacket closer to her.

“She voluntarily withdrew!”

-

“She definitely didn’t plan on leaving town,” Spencer surveyed Bahni’s abandoned closet. “Her clothes, shoes, and luggage are all still here.”

“Well, it looks like she was trying on different outfits,” said Morgan.

Y/N shuffled past Spencer, standing next to Morgan, and observed the clothes laid out. “Miniskirts, heels. Seems like she was going out.” Y/N added.

“But why not take her phone?” Reid asked, picking up Bahni’s cell. “She’d need it to meet up with her friends.”

She spun on her heel and inspected her desk, noticing two chemistry textbooks. “Unless her friends were already here,” she suggests, her finger brushes against the lettering on the cover, then beckons Morgan to look at the books.

She turned the cover of the textbook, Morgan doing the same to the one to their left. Y/N pushes out a sharp exhale out of her pursed lips. Paddy Morris, she read.

Morgan is the first to speak. “Same textbooks, different names. “She wasn’t studying alone.”

Spencer moves closer to the pair and peers over Y/N’s shoulder. “That could be the last person who saw her.”

-

Y/N trailed behind Morgan and Reid with her hands tucked into the pockets of Spencer’s jacket, and her eyes wandered around the halls of the building. This is going to be her first interview. She wasn’t nervous, per se, but her mind couldn’t help but fill with possible scenarios. Don’t mess this up, Y/N. Only ask questions relevant to the case and remember, don’t say the wrong thing.

“Nice jacket,” Morgan commented, slowing down to reach Y/N’s pace.

“Nice face,” she joked, reaching up to tap his cheek.

Y/N quickened her pace, walking past Spencer, and she could practically feel his stare burning into the back of her head. She found the correct door, and it was Reid and Morgan’s turn to trail behind her. Finding Paddy’s correct door number, she taps her knuckles against the hard wood. “Paddy Morris, this is the FBI,”

“Very funny, Josh,” They heard through the door.

Y/N turned to the men behind her and they shrugged their shoulders in unison. She scrunched up her nose, knocking once more.

The trio held up their badges as the door flung open, exposing the girl. “You’re not Josh.”

“Great observation,” Y/N nodded.

Paddy opened the door wider for them, and they took their spot on the three chairs to the side of her bed. “We have a few questions about Bahni Desai,” Morgan told her. “Is there any information you have that might help us?”

She let out a sharp exhale. “I was with her last night. She was fine,”

“Any idea why she left her cell phone in her room?”

“We didn’t take purses, and we didn’t have pockets in our skirts.” Paddy draws out.

Y/N saw Spencer shift in his seat. “Ok, walk us through the night, you guys were studying before you went out?”

“Yeah, um,” her voice is shaky. “I knew about this party. She didn't want to go.”

It was Y/N’s turn to ask a question. “Did you two come back to the dorm?”

Not too bad, not too bad, she reassures herself.

“No. I made her stay.”

“Why?”

She gulped, looking over their shoulders and out the window. “There was this tennis guy that I’d been trading tweets with. He said he’d show up, but he was late, and then the later it got, the more I drank.”

“How much did you have?” asked Reid.

“Her, I don’t know. Me, a lot. Until Peter arrived…” she trails off. “She told me she was going right after that.”

“Did anyone walk out after her, maybe try to escort her?”

“Not that I saw,” she frowns, face streaked with tears and day old mascara wiped beneath her eyes. “God, it’s my fault, isn’t it?”

Morgan reassured her. “No, it’s not. But there’s still a way you can help us.”

She perked up, wiping the stray tears away. “Anything. Name it.”

Y/N straightens up and asks, “Where was the party?”

-

“This was the last spot she was seen. The next camera is 100 feet down,” Spencer pointed forward. “Which makes this the abduction zone,”

Y/N walks with him, investigating what the team has found, all thanks to Garcia, Bahni’s last location before she went missing. “Alexandria police searched the buildings, nothing was there.”

“Well, if she got in the car with him, they would have shown up on the camera down the street.”

Her eyebrows knit together, suddenly coming to a stop. “Right, so it would be too risky,” she looked to the camera, and observed the shops behind them. “Just shoving her in the trunk of a car. And out in the open like this? Someone would have been bound to see them,”

“Well, that leaves this.” Spencer gestures to the near alleyway. It’s empty. Secluded. Low chance of anyone seeing the attack.

Spencer and Y/N shared a look, walking further into the alley. His phone went off, signifying that he’s gotten a new message, and she watches him as he fetches his phone out of his coat pocket. She could see the wrinkle between his brows that he would when he was worried about something,

She stops in her tracks and gently places her hand on his bicep. “Is everything okay?”

“Actually, no. My mom’s not doing so well,” Spencer says, biting the inside of his cheek. “The doctors have had to change her medicine 3 times to try to stabilize the schizophrenia,”

Y/N knew about his mom and her conditions. He had mentioned it a few times to her when he would go into her shop during her break. She let out a soft exhale and rubbed languid circles in his arm as a comfort. “Spencer, why didn’t you tell me… or the team?”

“I- I didn’t want to bother you,” he averts his eyes

“You could never bother me,” Y/N’s voice is hushed. “You can never bother any of us, got it? How long has this been going on?”

Spencer’s frown deepens, looking down to the asphalt beneath their feet. “It’s gotten really bad the past few weeks.”

“As soon as we’re done here, you need to go help her. She needs you,”

Y/N watches as his eyes narrow, looking at her this time. “I know. Right now so does Bahni.” he said firmly.

She watches him as he moves to leave the alley, and a frown etched on her face. Y/N knew he would rather keep something to himself than bother anyone about his problems, but this was different. She just wanted to be there for him, to help him, to make sure he doesn't feel alone. He was her friend, after all. Spencer turned to her, looking at her expectantly, and she followed him.

“Alright, let's think this through,” Spencer said.

Y/N added. “Okay, so, if he took her this way, it is a busier street,” they both observed the cars passing. “The traffic was much lighter last night, but it would be a risk to abduct someone in plain sight.”

“So he was able to control a drunk woman and it didn’t look suspicious.”

“He probably just put his arm around her and walked off, and was too drunk to realize she was in danger.” she replied.

“You know, if this was just about the assault, he could have done that back in the alley. I think this gotta be some sort of long-term play,”

“Then he’s been watching Bahni,” she makes eye contact with Spencer. “Looking for the perfect opportunity.”

“Well, he certainly found it last night. She’s a straight-A student who never drinks and rarely goes out.”

Y/N nods, walking back to the alley to inspect it once more. She eyes the spot where the suspect was last documented, trying to think of anything that could possibly help them, and then it hits her. “Spence, tell Garcia to look for offenders with precursor crimes.”

“On it,”

-

The rest of the investigation went by smoothly and the team rescued Bahni successfully, arresting Tom Larson for abduction of Bahni Desai and Sam Burnett for the murder of Kathy Miller in the process. By the end of the night, Y/N stayed behind as the majority of the team left, having to finish paperwork for Hotch. She heard shuffling, and it brought her attention to Spencer sitting on the edge of his desk. Following his gaze, she noticed a framed photo of JJ’s newborn perched on her desk. Then she examined him closely, noticing visible bags under his eyes, and his hair slightly disheveled. She gathers the loose paper into a folder, then places them into the drawer of her desk.

“You were that little once,” Y/N says, catching Spencer’s attention.

“It seems impossible, doesn’t it,” he smiles fondly at the photo. “That we all start out so helpless.”

Y/N got up from her chair, joining Spencer at his desk. “Yeah, well, we all end the same way.”

A moment of looming silence passes between them and Spencer stiffens, suddenly becoming hyper aware of the proximity. It’s not that he didn’t like it. It made him more aware of the flutter and flit of the butterflies in his stomach. That he didn’t like.

Y/N is the first one to break the silence. “You’re gonna call your mom?”

Spencer is brought back to reality by the sound of her voice, and he’s back at ease. Y/N did a good job at doing that; easing him. He furrowed his brows, checking his watch. “It’s not too late there, is it?”

She gently grabs a hold of his wrist to check for herself. “Shouldn’t be,” she whispers.

Y/N let her arm fall to her side. “I wanted to tell you, by the way.”

“Hmm?”

“That I was joining the team,” she crosses her arms over her chest. “I wanted to tell you.”

“Why didn’t you?” he counters.

“I didn’t want to intrude. I thought it would’ve been weird if some girl from the coffee shop you go to just suddenly started working with you, but I guess that happened anyway,”

Spencer’s eyes flick down to her. “You’re not just some girl from the coffee shop,” he says slowly. “And if it makes you feel any better, I really enjoyed working with you today.”

Y/N’s lips curled upward, bumping his shoulder with hers. “Hmm, I guess we just make a good team,”

“Guess so,” Spencer says with a soft laugh that makes her heart swell. “You know, I actually didn’t mean to tell Garcia,”

“You didn’t?” She raised her brows.

He shook his head. “She saw your number written on my coffee cup.”

“I see,” she hummed.

There’s a moment of comfortable silence. Y/N scoots away from him slightly, barely realizing the closeness. Her stomach twists and tumbles within her, nerves spiking, trying to find words to add to the conversation. She finally looks at him and she feels heat creeping up her neck when she saw that he was already looking at her. And she finally says, “I guess I should be getting home,”

Spencer followed her movements, trailing behind her as she retreated to her desk. “Would you like a ride home?” she asks.

For a second, it is silent again. It’s clear to her he’s thinking way too into the question. “It’s no bother,” she adds, giving him a kind smile. “I promise.”

She held out her arm just like she did that morning and waited for him to link his arm with hers. He visibly relaxed, hooping his arm beneath hers. This is what he liked about Y/N, what drew him to her. She allowed him to break down his walls when he was with her, and he guesses that that was why he let himself be so comfortable with her because if he was being completely honest, he wouldn’t do this with anyone that wasn’t her. Yeah, he was close with JJ and Penelope, but the connection was just different. He just couldn’t put his finger on it, and for the first time, Spencer Reid didn’t know why.

-

taglist: @eevee0722 @ceeellewrites

[lubdubsworld]

Dangerously Beautiful. (Seokjin x oc)

Kim Seokjin x OC!!

 Genre : Organized Crime AU ! 

Warnings : AU related violence . Explicit Content. Blood , Gore but not too bad. I’ll see how it goes. Extremely Dubious Consent. Abusive relationships. Unhealthy power dynamics. 

Summary : When you’re caught in a war that has no end, the only goal is to survive. 

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

Prologue

“Been a while, huh baby? You’re too fucking tight....” Seokjin grunted, fingers crushing my wrists together with a bruising grip , eyes narrowed as he smirked right into my face as he fucked into me, his hips slamming into mine with a force that made my bones rattle and I had to bite my lips to keep from crying out, tears spilling over my eyes and soaking the fabric of his tie , knotted and stuffed in my mouth. 

“But that’s good...at least it tells me you haven’t been spreading your thighs for anyone else, right baby? Not that you would dare....you know you’re mine, don’t you ? Your sexy little body....all mine, huh darling?” He leaned down and made to kiss me and i panicked. I didn’t want him to kiss me. 

I closed my eyes, turning my face away but he brought one hand up to grip my jaw, yanking my face back to stare at him. He tightened the grip on my chin and I whimpered when his thumb dug into my skin . 

“Open your fucking eyes and look at me.” He demanded. “ What are you afraid of huh? Afraid to admit how much you like this? How much you like having my cock in your cunt?”

I glared at him, hoping he could read all the hatred, all the disdain and scorn and fury I felt for him. He merely laughed shaking his head, his movements speeding up. He stared at me like I was the most precious thing in the world and yet he treated me like I was something he wanted to destroy. 

“So you’ve been hanging out with Jihoon again...imagine my surprise doll... Me .... one of the most powerful in the country, “ He punctuated each pause with a thrust that left me wincing in pain, “one of the most feared men in the country and yet....my beautiful wife...out flaunting a relationship with another man.... Don’t make me put a bullet in my own brother’s head, Renae....” He growled, thumb slipping into my mouth, alongside the tie. I closed my eyes, , exhausted as my body went limp to fight the pain.

 I hated him. Hated him . Hated him.  

“Gonna fuck you all night. Gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be sore for days.....Heard you made plans with him? Let’s see how you run around the city with my brother if you can’t fucking walk tomorrow.” he snarled and I choked on my tears.

The knock on the door made him pause and he swore. 

“What the fuck do you want?” He roared and I held my breath. 

 Please... Please leave... Just, Please.

“Wang’s here, hyung.” Jungkook’s voice carried through the thick mahogany door. “ He’s got the Lee kid. “ 

Seokjin groaned . 

He glared at the door for a second , taking deep breaths to calm himself down and I could see the anger swelling inside him. i held my breath because I did not want to be the outlet for all that rage. I stared , watching his eyes shift to mine, cold and unfeeling. 

I winced when he brought his clenched fist down on the sheet with enough force to rattle the whole bed. I exhaled shakily as his fingers came up to brush the sweat slicked bangs off my face, thumb pressing into my lips with force.

“Looks like we’re gonna have to reschedule, princess.” he grunted pulling out, and relief flooded my body so hard, i sagged. He made to move away but stopped when I shuddered.

“What? “ He snapped and I froze. 

His fingers reached for the knot at the back of my head and he yanked on it till the tie came undone. I gasped when he pulled the fabric out of my mouth , swallowing to sooth by bruised throat. 

“You look entirely too glad that I’m leaving.” He tilted his head thoughtfully and my gaze snapped to his. 

“I.. I..” My voice broke, rusty from disuse. 

“On your hands and knees.” 

I sobbed in disbelief, shaking my head and trying to move away but he gripped my waist, turning me over and lifting my hips till I was on all fours.

“Grab the fucking headboard.” He whispered , sounding unnaturally calm and I felt a chill spread all over my skin. 

With Seokjin, the calmer he was, the more reason you had to be afraid. 

“I’m gonna fuck you till I cum and then I’m supposed to go kill Lee Jae Hwan’s son. If you stay quiet , let me do my thing... I may consider letting him live. What say, princess? He’s only twenty three years old....  “ He smiled eerily, the sheer beauty of his face a complete contrast to the things he did. 

I closed my eyes. 

It wasn’t really a fucking choice was it? 

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

“You didn’t come to the cafe.” Jihoon’s voice came from the shadows , just as I left the library on the east wing. I felt my heart race, eyes darting up and down the length of the corridor, anxiety spiking as I tried to listen for footsteps or voices. It was mid afternoon and the sun spilled into the open hallways through the open windows, and there was no one in sight. 

 No one visited the East wing that often especially in the middle of the day but you could never be too careful. The servants , guards and the housekeeper were all loyal to Seokjin. And last night... Seokjin had made it clear that he was watching. I couldn’t do this. Couldn’t put handsome, kind Jihoon’s life in danger for my own selfish desires. 

I ignored him, walking a bit faster to get away but he moved faster, stopping in front of me and holding both hands up to stop me. 

“Renae....what’s wrong?” He asked softly , eyes warm and worried and brimming with concern and i wanted to sob.

“We shouldn’t be doing this , “ i whispered, shaking my head. “ I can’t convince Seokjin to let me go if he thinks it is  you  I’m leaving with. Right now I hold no value to him but if you keep following me around..acting like a fool....he will keep me chained to his side.!!!” 

Jihoon growled , eyes flashing with frustration and anger.

“He doesn’t deserve you!”

“I know.” I whispered, glancing back up and down the corridor. I was so terrified in my own home and it was so unfair. “ I know but you must remember.... he did not force me into anything. I came here of my own volition. I let him court me and marry me and I am his wife now. He owns me. Unless he lets me go, I cannot escape.” 

“Its been five years. How much longer? How much longer must I wait for you to-”

“I never asked you to wait. Your waiting is your own doing. Don’t pin that on my head, Master Kim.” I said coldly. 

He flushed at that. 

“I just.. i love you. I care for you deeply and I want to give you the life you deserve...does that count for nothing?” He asked, desperately and I looked away, laughing at his naivety. 

At twenty five, Jihoon was as naive as they came. He had been raised, sheltered. Away from the family business. He did not know how ruthless his brother was. 

How little Seokjin valued  human life? How fiercely possessive he was of the things he owned. 

How little he cared about what anyone else wanted? 

“No..matter what any of us wants,  because only the king gets to have what he wants “ I said sharply, “ and Kim Seokjin is the King. This is his empire. You and I , we are pawn in his court, only here to serve him as he asks us to....to give him what he wants...... And as long as he wants me , in his house and in his bed, I am bound to him. You’re risking your life , for something that may not even be real” 

“Don’t say that... Don’t you dare say that.. What we have is real... it  is  real.” He said softly. 

I stared at him, shaking my head. 

“After four years with your brother I no longer know what is real and what isn’t. “  

He stared at his feet.

“You love him. “ I said softly.

He didn’t deny it. 

“I love you more.” He said hoarsely.

I laughed a little.

“I’m sure you believe that. But the truth is he  will  kill you. He told me as much. I can’t have that on my head, Jihoon.” 

I turned away, clutching my book to my chest , as I walked away from the only person who had ever shown me any kindness. 

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

“She is in love with Jihoon.” Seokjin said casually, taking a sip of his whiskey, eyes trained on the sunset, lavishly beautiful from their position up on one the tallest towers in the estate. 

Yoongi hummed thoughtfully.

“not surprising considering you treat her like dirt.”

Seokjin grimaced.

“I don’t have time to indulge all her fairytale fantasies. She is my wife , she is honor bound to serve me and me alone.” He growled. 

Yoongi laughed.

“This isn’t the dark ages. You married her. You didn’t buy her love....” 

“then why am I still fucking paying for it. “ He snapped. “ Why am I still here, four years later, chained to her but nowhere closer to being what she wants. Why am I here, contemplating killing my own brother....? “

Yoongi shook his head. 

“Because you wasted the years when you should’ve been there for her. You left her alone in a sprawling mansion with no one to lean on and it was your brother who offered her the companionship she craved...” 

“My father had died!” Seokjin shouted, fists clenched in frustration. “ He died and he left me a crumbling, burning mess of an organization filled with traitors and opportunists. None of them were loyal to me , I had an attempt on my life every day of the fucking week...so forgive me if I couldn’t take time off to play house with a nineteen year old girl .......” 

“Its not too late.” Yoongi said softly. 

Seokjin sighed. 

“Yoongi...”

“ You’re not that man anymore, Seokjin.... You’ve done your part. You’ve built an empire even the Romans would envy and you are the one in control. She isn’t nineteen anymore either..... She’s twenty four. She knows the kind of life you lead, She will be more understanding. She hasn’t left yet so there’s no reason you shouldn’t try-” 

“She has been looking for divorce lawyers.” Seokjin whispered. “ She wants me to let her go.”

Yoongi stayed quiet.

Seokjin continued, voice laced with frustration. 

“I can’t do that. I... I don’t know what love is but I feel...something for her. Something that makes it impossible for me to contemplate a life without her.  So I can’t let her go but if I keep her life this, if I chain her to my side , she is only going farther away from me. i don’t.. i don’t know what to do.” he said helplessly. 

Yoongi nodded.

“I think its time to let Jungkook take over as the head of operations.” He said softly.

Seokjin’s eyes snapped to him. 

“What?! He’s not ready -”

“And he’ll never be ready if you don’t give him the chance to prove himself. He is intelligent , sharp and ruthless. He knows the in and out of this business like you do and he has stayed by your side since he was sixteen years old. He loves you like a brother and he is loyal to you in a way that I’ve never witnessed in my life. “

Seokjin sighed running a hand over his face. 

“So, what? I just hand things over to him and go sit in an armchair fiddling my thumbs?”

Yoongi laughed.

“No... you take a step back... see over everything and offer us your advice when we’re stuck. The way bosses all over the world function. The next time there’s an issue that needs to be dealt with, you trust  us  to deal with it, instead of turning up at an abandoned warehouse at two in the morning to break some poor college kid’s arm.” 

Seokjin nodded, taking another sip of his drink.

“And... Renae?”

“You tell her you want to build a relationship with her. Beg her for a chance if you have to and then you fix things  If you want her love, you earn it. “ 

“Is that how you earned your wife’s love?” Seokjin smirked. 

Yoongi grimaced.

“Let’s not talk about that ...’“ He grunted. 

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

When I walked into the dining room that evening, the last thing I expected was my husband, dressed to the nines and leaning against the fireplace, staring off into space. 

He straightened when he saw me and i froze in place, fear choking my insides. 

“Hi.” He said softly.

I blinked, confused.

“I was hoping to have dinner with you.”

He what?

I merely stared at him, completely thrown. 

“Unless you have other plans.” 

I pinched myself discreetly. Was I having a fever dream? Had I fallen asleep in the library?

“Say something.” He snapped and I got pulled out of my reverie. 

I swallowed.

“No.. I.. no i don’t have any plans.”

“Good. Come, let’s sit.” 

He pulled a chair out for me and i stared at him in confusion, walking over and carefully lowering myself into the seat. 

“Are you going to kill me?” I blurted out when he took the seat opposite to me. 

He stared at me in shock.

“What?! Of course not..why would you think that?” he demanded. 

I swallowed. 

“What are you doing here then.??? ..you don’t do this. Ever.”

“Maybe I’ve changed.” He said casually and I laughed in disbelief.

“I don’t know what sick game you’re trying to play with me but...”

“I’ve been neglecting you.” he said gently. 

I froze.

:” I’ve not been the kind of husband I could’ve been. And I think, I need to remedy that.”

He stared at me. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” I said shakily.

“I want to make this work. “

“This?” i said, slightly hysterical.

“Our marriage. I want to make it work.”

“I.. no. I don’t want that.. I want a-”

“DON’T!!!” He shouted, fists coming down on the table with a force that made me jump. “ Don’t ask me for a divorce. I’m not giving you one. not now, not ever.” 

I stared down at my knees, tears stinging. 

“I am trying to be more ....gentle. I want to mend things between us so you wouldn’t have to look for comfort or companionship from another man. “ 

“Please stop.” I felt sick. 

“You’re my wife Renae. And i want you to enjoy it. “ 

Nausea. Anger. Disbelief. Despair. 

Everything warred inside me and my head pounded. 

“I ....am not hungry anymore.” I choked out, stumbling to my feet and moving away and for the first time, Seokjin let me leave the room when I wanted to . 

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

Author’s Note : Well.... Feedback is appreciated as always.  leave a reply here if you wanna be on the taglist. 

[lionheartslowstart]

Scared

I normally don’t write stuff like this, but I need an outlet. I’m feeling a lot of feelings right now and I’m not good with that...stuff. Nine times out of ten, I just compartmentalize and numb myself out until finally everything comes to the surface and the dam bursts and I have a total mental break. Though I do have the decency to wait until I’m in private. I don’t want or need people seeing me like that. But this is...big. I know it’s big. And I just can’t seem to process it, so I figured I would try the only thing I know to do when I’m having trouble processing something, and that’s write on this blog.

In 2020 I had an MRI done because I get chronic migraines. Unfortunately, this was right before Covid-19, and so everything kind of shut down and the neurologist basically ghosted me. Flash forward about eight months and I had to get my gall bladder removed. In the process of getting cleared for surgery, the surgeon looked over my recent medical records. When I met with her for the pre-op clearance, she asked me if I knew I had an aneurysm.

I asked her what she meant and she told me about the MRI from that March. I was floored. No one had told me anything, only that I needed to come in for a follow up appointment. But then the office called me and said my appointment had to be rescheduled indefinitely due to Covid, and then I never heard anything back.

Luckily, the surgeon told me the aneurysm was so tiny, she felt okay doing the surgery. But that it was something I should look into. My gall bladder was successfully removed, and life returned to normal.

I won’t lie, I forgot about it for a while. Between commuting, classes, my regular mental health bullshit, and dealing with an abusive partner, I kind of had other things on my mind. But things finally starting calming down for me a few months ago, so I decided now would be a good time to revisit the subject.

The neurologist I went to has since retired (and frankly I wouldn’t have wanted to see him again anyway, fuck that guy), so I had to find a new one. It took me a while, but I was able to find a doctor nearby who was taking new patients and seemed like a good fit for me, so I scheduled an appointment.

I saw her this morning.

The good news is that I don’t technically have an aneurysm. It’s so teeny tiny that it’s referred to as an “out-pouching.” Is it a great situation? No, but at least it’s not dire. Still, she wants me to get another MRI done to check on it, since it’s been about two years.

I also have some fluid build up in the back of my head. It’s called a hygroma. The doctor told me it’s pretty common for that to happen after a severe head injury. She asked me if I hit my head really hard around the time of the MRI. I told her I couldn’t remember, but I’m constantly hurting myself because I’m clumsy as hell, so probably. She told me it’s most llikely fine, that the hygroma is basically harmless unless it’s pressing on the brain. And, according to the doctor, I would definitely know if it was pressing on my brain. The symptoms would be extreme. But, like with the out-pouching, she would like to see newer images just to make sure.

All in all, these two things aren’t so bad.

But wait, it gets worse. (And don’t worry, she told me this part first.)

According to this MRI, I have had a stroke.

I was in shock. How could I not have known this? I didn’t want to believe her, but she was able to actually show me the images. Sure enough, there was that white patch of dead tissue, staring me right in my face. And while it wasn’t a massive patch, it wasn’t a small one either. Maybe the size of a nickel, right there, on the right side of my brain.

Apparently, it happens more often than you’d think, that someone has a stroke and doesn’t even know it, especially when you consider a stroke can happen in your sleep.

Since I’ve had a stroke already, even though I don’t remember it, or have any idea when it occurred, I am high risk to have another stroke. I will have to take baby aspirin for the rest of my life in an effort to mitigate that risk.

 But wait, it gets WORSE.

The stroke is old. Old in 2020. I have absolutely no idea when this could have happened, how old I was. And I doubt there really is a way to know for sure. Regardless of my age when I had the stroke, I’m too young, even with high blood pressure. It is extremely uncommon for people my age and younger to suffer from stroke.

There are not many reasons why young people suffer strokes (aside from smoking, but I don’t smoke). However, there is at least one “common” cause.

I’m not going to elaborate further than that, because I don’t want to announce something I don’t know to be true, or accidentally manifest something so negative, but I will say that I have to get a special test done to rule out a specific condition. And it’s kind of a lose-lose situation, because if I don’t have it, we still won’t know why I had the stroke, and there could be some other underlying problem that will be difficult to diagnose. But if I do have it, I’ll have to have surgery.

I. Am. Terrified.

I don’t want to throw a pity party. I am not a “woe is me” kind of person. But fuck man it really does feel like every time I turn around, there is something else wrong with me, whether it be physical or mental. I am so sick and tired of getting dealt such a shit hand medically. In an effort to make me feel better in the past, my mother has teased me, saying I won the “medical chaos lottery.” And I’ve always thought that was funny, until now. My whole entire life, all I’ve ever wanted was to be normal, to just live my fucking life. And that has never, ever been an option for me. And it fucking sucks.

I’m just tired of living like this.

[potts89]

By @potts89 for @hold-our-destiny, written for the fourth @friendly-neighborhood-exchange.

Rating: General Audiences Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts Summary:

“Honey,” Tony coaxed her, purposely not taking his eyes off the monitor in front of him. “What did I do?” “What do you mean what did you do?” “You’re giving me the look.” He could hear Pepper sighing but Tony simply assumed that she must have had a long, tiring day, that’s why. “Tony, when should I pencil you in to see Peter?” “See him for what?”

It started out as a run-of-the-mill, after school patrol... until Peter was reminded of a different alley, from a different time, but a very much familiar scenario.

Read it here (full fic under the cut) and on AO3.

“You’ve got the board meeting at four o’clock today, and Morgan’s ballet recital is at ten tomorrow morning and we’re supposed to meet Jim for lunch afterwards.”

Pepper went through Tony’s schedule as she waltzed into his workshop that afternoon, the measured clicking of her heels somewhat making him nostalgic for those days back when she was still his personal assistant and she would always harangue him about his meetings. He smiled distractedly at the thought that his wife and CEO, even after over a decade and a half, still refused to delegate his schedule to someone else. Not that he was complaining (because, really, he much preferred it this way), because Pepper, Tony knew, happened to be very hands-on after all. That and the fact that she probably knew that, except for Morgan, no one else could pry Tony away from whatever new project he was currently obsessing on. So it made sense that if Pepper wanted him to actually adhere to his schedule, she really should take the reins herself.

Tony threw a cursory glance at his monitor just to check the time, because Pepper was standing in front of him with her arms crossed in front of her chest, impatiently waiting for him to say or do something.

He noted that he still had about an hour to wash up, get dressed, and take the elevators to the conference room which was just twenty floors down, so unless he forgot their wedding anniversary (which, to his credit, had never happened), Pepper shouldn’t be giving him that ‘Drop whatever it is you’re doing right now,’ look.

“Honey,” Tony coaxed her, purposely not taking his eyes off the monitor in front of him. “What did I do?”

“What do you mean what did you do?”

“You’re giving me the look.”

He could hear Pepper sighing but Tony simply assumed that she must have had a long, tiring day, that’s why.

“Tony, when should I pencil you in to see Peter?”

“See him for what?”

Ever since he got the kid back, Tony had been consciously trying to keep some distance. Sure, not a day went by that he didn’t worry about Peter – the anxiety over something happening, again, that could take the kid away from him, again, never truly completely disappeared – but he didn’t want to suffocate the boy either. So as much as Tony wanted to be a helicopter doting (pseudo-) parent, he kept his distance. He no longer required daily patrol reports, he disabled the Baby Monitor Protocol (at Peter’s request and much to his disapproval, although they did reach a compromise that Karen would automatically ping FRIDAY should Peter be fatally injured (they had a long discussion on what Tony actually meant with fatal afterwards)), and he didn’t mess with Peter’s patrolling unless the kid specifically asked for his help and advice.

The adjustments were difficult, but Tony knew that he wouldn’t be around to hold the boy’s hand forever so he endured the changes. Plus, Peter seemed to appreciate this new sense of responsibility and independence, and Tony could only imagine that this was probably what it would feel like when the kid would finally leave for college at MIT.

God, he could feel the separation anxiety already.

“Michelle called…” Pepper trailed off and Tony would later on realize that he really should’ve noted the worry in his wife’s tone. “Something happened during his patrol.”

That surely caught Tony’s attention. He quickly glanced up at Pepper while the screwdriver he had been working with clattered to the floor.

“Is he—”

“He’s not hurt… physically.”

“Right, of course. FRIDAY would’ve alerted me if that’s the case.” He breathed a sigh of relief, but that relief was short-lived when he finally actually noticed the frown creasing Pepper’s features. “Wait, Michelle called? Where’s the kid?”

“He was on patrol. He tried to stop a mugging incident but by the time he got at the scene, a young boy’s father was already shot and—”

“He’s been blaming himself for it,” Tony finished for her and he knew just exactly what’s going on in Peter’s head right now.

Pepper reached for the rug that was lying on his worktable before walking up to him and giving it to him to wipe the grease off of his hands. “Michelle has been trying to convince him otherwise. Now I’m telling you this because Peter knows that Michelle’s the one person who will comfort him no matter what—”

“Which means he won’t believe it when she says it wasn’t his fault.”

Pepper nodded while Tony sighed tiredly, hating the fact that Peter seemed to have picked up on his own tendency for self-reproach. He handed the rug back to Pepper who seemed pleased that her husband appeared to be finally on the same page as she.

“Pep, honey, how important is today’s board meeting?” he asked, even if he knew that Pepper wouldn’t keep him anyway.

“Well, R&D is presenting that tech that you wanted the patent on.”

“Tell them I’ll have to reschedule.”

She smiled at him, a knowing smile that he had gotten so familiar with and so thankful for over the years. “I already did.”

He really did marry the perfect woman, didn’t he?

“You’re the best,” he told her, wrapping his arms around her and it did amuse him to note that she didn’t make a comment on how the grease would most likely get on her own clothes. He kissed her, deeply though hurriedly. “I love you.”

“Go and be a good dad. I love you, too.”

---- --- ----

“I thought we already agreed that you’d disable the tracker in my suit,” Peter muttered without glancing, long before Tony could even announce his arrival thanks to that thing he really didn’t like to call ‘Peter tingle.’

He had been sitting there alone all afternoon, deep in a quiet, one-way conversation with the headstone in front on him which bore the name of the uncle that pretty much raised him as his own. The same uncle who, up to this day, Peter still felt guilty and responsible for.

To say that Peter was having a terrible day was definitely an understatement. It started out like any normal afternoon – he nailed that physics test, he listened (enraptured) while MJ discussed the women’s suffrage in great detail over lunch, and he swung by Stark Tower to drop a new toy for Morgan sometime after class – there was nothing out of the ordinary, at least until a few minutes into his patrol.

He was swinging by some of his usual hunts in the city when his hyper-keen senses caught the scream of a young boy just a few blocks away. Peter rushed to the scene without second thought, but what he initially anticipated as a run-of-the-mill mugging incident in one of New York’s quiet alleys turned out to strike too close to home.

Peter just stood there, unmoving, rooted to the spot as the bandit fled the scene of the crime leaving behind a young boy quite possibly no older than nine, a man in his mid-forties lying on the pavement and possibly bleeding to death, and Peter who seemed to have been transported back to a different alley, from a different time, but in a very much familiar scenario.

Peter felt numb, so much so that for a while there, he completely believed that he was watching a younger version of himself, helplessly crouching over the bleeding man, while the police and ambulance sirens sounded nearer and nearer and nearer…

“What happened here?” one of the EMTs shouted but Peter was too stunned and completely trapped in his own head that he was practically the most useless person on the site. “Spider-Man?” the EMT prodded but Peter was too out of it (or maybe, too into it) that he barely registered the question at all.

Everything was a blur afterwards. He barely recalled the EMTs loading the victim and the young boy into the ambulance, he was quite unaware of the many people looking his way wondering why Spider-Man was standing there, motionless in an alley. He barely recalled clutching his phone to his ear and hearing MJ’s confused and worried voice as he muttered “It’s my fault,” over and over and over again.

He couldn’t even exactly remember how he managed to end up in this place, or how long he had been sitting there on the ground apologizing to the indifferent headstone that offered him neither forgiveness nor reassurance.

For hours (he wasn’t really sure if it had been hours, but it certainly felt that way to him), he kept having those dreaded flashbacks in his head… The image of the boy crouching over his father’s body merging and morphing into looking more like Peter, while he himself applied pressure on the man’s wounds with his bare hands, the same man who was beginning to look more and more like his—

“I did disable your suit’s tracker, but I didn’t exactly need one to know where to find you.” Tony’s voice was grounding, pulling him back to the present… to what was real, to what was happening.

“How did you know I’d be here?” Peter asked, not really knowing what was the point in asking. Still, he avoided Tony’s gaze, choosing to focus his eyes instead on the headstone in front of him even as the older man took a seat beside him. “You didn’t need to come and pick me up, I was heading back anyway—”

“Of course I know you’d be here, you give me so little credit, kid.” Peter felt that gentle, reassuring pat on his shoulder and the gesture alone was enough to break what little composure he had left. “And I also know that I didn’t need to come, but I wanted to.”

He didn’t really know what to say to that, not out of shyness nor awkwardness because he and Tony were definitely past that point by now, but more because he was once again reminded that Tony actually cared… that the man was in his corner and would always be, come hell or high water.

Even after all these years, Peter still couldn’t wrap his head around that idea, that he actually had someone, that he wasn’t truly completely alone.

“Alright, why don’t you say what’s on your mind?”

“Who says there’s anything on my mind?” Peter deflected, easily picking up on Tony’s usual modus operandi when confronted with something that he wasn’t really keen about discussing. Peter learned from the master, after all.

“There’s always something on your mind,” Tony’s tone was patient with a hint of chiding, and Peter wanted to stop himself from thinking that the tone was almost paternal. “The only time it doesn’t pop right out of your mouth is when you’re not sure you should say it… that and when you were still trying to tell MJ that you actually like her. So?”

“I’m fine,” Peter mumbled, but he knew it would be pretty naïve of him if he were to believe that Tony would actually let him get away with not talking about it. Still, he could try, right?

He almost did believe that Tony had decided to drop the issue because the palpable silence stretched between them, with Peter not really wanting to relive the afternoon and with Tony probably waiting for that conversation opening that Peter would be absolutely unwilling to give to him. Still, Tony, Peter knew, was nothing if not persistent.

“Pete, you can’t save everybody.”

It was said so simply, so fatherly even, that Peter could really do very little to stop the dam from finally breaking. He knew that Tony knew that he never really felt comfortable talking about his uncle, and Peter was actually thankful that Tony had opted not to pursue the topic directly at least.

Still the thought didn’t do much to alleviate Peter’s guilt from what happened that afternoon. He kept thinking that if he had only been a bit faster, a little braver, a bit tougher… if he hadn’t let the ghost of his past failure haunt him at such a very crucial moment…

Peter cringed at the possibility that another kid could be orphaned by now all because he got scared and stunned, exactly like the boy he once was the last time he actually saw his uncle breathing and living…

“Kid, it’s not your fault. We try and we try but we can’t save them all.”

“But you did, and granted that it cost you a lot,” Peter paused, his red-rimmed eyes quickly darting towards Tony’s prosthetic arm, making him feel so small and unsure and inept. “But you did… you did save us all.”

“I didn’t, kid.”

“No, you actually did—”

“I didn’t, kid, at least not during the first time. Else, I would not have spent a lot of nights imagining, dreaming that I saved you in Titan. Because every night before I go to sleep, in the last five years I keep thinking about the things I could have done differently… Kid, every night I save you, in my head and in my dreams. But when it mattered the most, when it actually counted, I failed. I didn't save you.”

“No, Mr. Stark... Because when it mattered the most, you brought me back.”

Peter didn’t really know what else to say other than that, but he hoped that it was enough for now. He was, after all, very much aware that no matter how immensely grateful he truly was, his thanks wouldn’t even begin to give justice to what Tony had to do, had to gamble with, just to get him (and the others) back.

To tell the truth, he would have dwelled on the thought, on the more appropriate thing to say, but his mind was basically elsewhere at the moment and he blurted out his worries before he could even stop himself.

“I just… I froze earlier because I know what it’s like to be orphaned young, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

“Touché.”

“I’m sorry— I didn’t mean…”

He glanced at Tony but there was nothing but understanding in his old man’s eyes, the memory of his own loss clearly still as saddening but time had clearly played a factor in healing past wounds.

“I know what you mean, kid, more than anyone, really. I was twenty one then, technically already an adult, but I was very far from being one.”

“It’s just, I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy… And to think that I could’ve done something earlier today had I been faster, stronger, braver…” Peter trailed off, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat as he thought back to his own parents and his uncle. “I know what it’s like to be alone, to be on your own… It was difficult, it still is.”

“I’m sorry, kid.”

Peter furrowed his brows at the way that Tony’s voice broke. “Sorry for what?”

“I try so hard… so hard to make you feel that you have someone, that you’re no longer alone, that you’re not an orphan, at least not anymore. And I really thought that giving you some independence was what you wanted, but I guess I wasn’t doing enough if you still feel that—”

“But you are,” he cut in, only realizing in that moment that he had inadvertently made Tony  feel inadequate, when the truth was Peter actually felt so indebted to him. Peter knew that he owed him his life, so much so that he actually felt shy being around the man, especially whenever he would see Tony’s prosthetic arm because if not for him…

“You’re doing more than enough,” Peter assured him, wanting to tell him that he actually filled that paternal void just exactly when Peter needed him the most. “Mr. Stark, you’re like the—”

Peter caught himself, stopping before he could even say anything more… because doing so would be impolite, would be imposing, would be asking for too much.

“I’m like what?”

You’re like the father I wish I had.

Peter bit his lip as he tried to grapple not necessarily with the right words but with more appropriate ones, less assuming ones, because he was still so uncertain about his place in Tony’s family. Never mind the fact that Pepper would regularly set a place for him on the dinner table and Morgan would ask him to read her bedtime stories and Tony kept calling him kid but…

He didn’t feel worthy.

Because if he couldn’t protect them in the end just like the way that he failed with his own uncle, he would never be worthy. If he couldn’t keep that kid’s father from earlier that afternoon safe, how would he be able to keep this family safe?

You’re like the father I wish I had.

“You’re my mentor, Mr. Stark,” was what Peter settled for in the end. “And I’m very lucky because you’re doing more than enough for me.”

“Well, that’s disappointing,” Tony smirked at him when Peter threw a sidelong glance in his direction, the obvious chagrin in his voice making Peter curious about his remark. “Because I thought you were going to say that I’m like a father to you, but mentor’s fine, I guess. I’ll take it.”

Peter gazed at him, his brown eyes so full of wonder while Tony simply grinned in that patented smile he usually reserved for the adoring public.

“So let me get this straight. You see me as a son-figure?” Peter asked, forgetting all about his earlier reservations.

“Well, Morgan did tell her teachers that she has an older brother so—”

“That’s Morgan. How about you, though?”

“—and Pepper’s still about twelve percent convinced that you really are my secret lovechild from back in my playboy days—”

“Would it kill you so much to say it out loud?”

Tony laughed and Peter honestly thought that it would probably be better if the ground simply swallowed him up at that point. This was just so embarrassing but he figured that his need for affirmation outweighed his sense of shame, at least in that moment.

“You’re my kid, okay?” Tony reached out to put an arm around his shoulder and somehow, Peter felt lighter, safer, in spite of the day’s events. “Mine and Pepper’s, Morgan’s brother. You’re family, Pete. You always have been. Why do you think you have a room at the Tower and at the lake house?”

“I just thought they’re guest rooms,” he mumbled quietly, eyes downcast because he could feel the tears now streaming down his face.

“Those rooms have photos of you with Morgan, and Star Wars memorabilia, and clothes and shoes in your size. Guest rooms can’t be that specific.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“And it’s not your fault. What happened today and what happened with your uncle, it was never your fault, Pete. You’re just a kid.”

Peter couldn’t help but wipe his eyes with the back of his hand while Tony pulled him into a tighter side-hug. He wished he could tell Tony thank you, but he was quite sure that words would betray him at this point. He honestly didn’t know what happened back there at the alley – he had, after all, been to space and fought his fair share of nemeses – but the familiarity of the situation caught him off-guard, hitting too close to home and trapping him in his own mind and with his own memories.

Peter realized that maybe it was because he had not really forgiven himself… for what happened with his own uncle and for Tony having to make a sacrifice. But if Tony never really blamed him, then…

“Pepper asked me to tell you that the boy’s father is now out of the woods and that he will make a full recovery,” Tony told him after some time, reading the message Pepper must have sent him on his phone. “And that she’s expecting you at dinner tonight, at the tower.”

Peter furrowed his brows, frowning in confusion as he did so. “How did she know about…”

“Who do you think Michelle called?”

“Of course.”

“So let’s go? Home?” Tony stood up, tossing him the keys to the Audi. “You drive. Slowly. I’m gonna guide you, but drive slowly.”

Peter couldn’t help but smile. He didn’t feel alone anymore. After all, he never really was, and he never really would be.

He grinned just as he started the engine, the way that Tony gripped the edge of his seat was not lost on Peter at all.

“You know, Mr. Stark, I think as long as I drive slower than you do, we’ll be fine.”

“Pete, driving slower than me doesn’t automatically mean that you’re driving within the speed limit.”

“I merely said—”

“Just drive. Slowly.” Tony cut in, sighing as he closed his eyes beneath the tinted glasses he was sporting. “Before I change my mind.”

Peter smiled, stepping on the gas and speeding off, within limits, of course.

***

[little-writings]

Hi! I LOVE your writing and you're my fav writer for jumin 💖 Can you do a continuation of your fic 'Before I go to sleep' ? Where MC finally woke up remembering who jumin is? My heart aches for jumin and I would really like to see what happens. You don't have to if you don't want to ><

I think it’d actually be really fun to write a prompt of this sort! Especially since the ‘Before I go to Sleep’ is one of my favorite that I’ve written! Anyhow, I hope you enjoy and have an amazing day, thank you!

‘Before I go to Sleep’ Prompt

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You’d never quite realized how easy it was to start a fuss. After all, the only thing you’d done was say a name. 

You’d only just begun to wake when you felt a rise and fall pressed against your back -- a breathing body, comfortable and steady. You were in a room you didn’t entirely know, but you recognized. And when you turned your head with groggy, heavy eyes you saw a man you didn’t entirely know, but you recognized. Like the fuzziest memories of childhood, a fondness brimmed at your chest. 

A name even came to mind. 

“Jumin...” 

The man beside you shifted at the mention of his name. His sooty curls of hair brushed against your cheek before he raised his head lazily. His eyes flickered open, revealing a soft, velvety grey full of drowsiness. He looked down at you, brows furrowing in confusion as if he thought he might’ve imagined something. 

“What was that? Did you say something?”

You raised a hand to press your palm to his cheek, the edge of your fingertips brushing his hair and the warmth of his face sinking against your skin. “That’s your name, isn’t it? Jumin...?” 

He made a sound almost like a laugh were it not for the disbelief that was so strongly entwined with it. “Yes it is -- how did you-” He took in a sharp breath. “How did you know that?” 

You paused, thinking. “Well, why wouldn’t I? We look close enough for me to know your name.” You chuckled. “Unless I’m wrong?” 

“No... no!” He blurted out the last bit in a rush, his words stumbling out with a fumbling mind. “Would you come with me?” 

You nodded and Jumin hurried from the bed in an instant. He took your hands and led you out from under the blankets and the sheets. The sunshine spilled over your bare limbs and your feet stumbled onto the carpet, but Jumin was practically whirling. He guided you to the bathroom where a mural of photos was on display -- some featuring just the two of you with hands interlocked and smiles engraved upon your faces. Others had a small white cat with the most beautiful coat of fur you’d ever seen, and others featured a group of people with shades of red, yellow, and white among them, and happiness splayed about every one of them. 

‘Jumin Han’

‘Your husband’

‘Elizabeth 3rd’

‘RFA’ 

For each photo, you only had the faintest inkling of who they were and why they were important, but you had a feeling that was more than usual. You could almost make out names and places. 

“These are... our friends aren’t they?” You asked, fingers tracing over the photos. 

“They’re our life,” Jumin answered softly, just a few steps behind you. “I tried to get as many photos as possible to show all that we’d been through.” 

You found the wedding quickly. It must’ve been a grand event because your heart tugged at the very sight of it. 

“How long have we been together?” You asked. 

“Almost ten years now, coming next month. You’ve had this... condition for four years.” Jumin let out a deep breath, and as you turned to see him you noticed just how much he fidgeted. He tapped his knuckles, anxiously grappled with his wrist. Perhaps it tethered him, kept Jumin grounded. “But never once have you remembered anything.” 

“Not once? Not even the accident?” 

Jumin’s eyes widened like saucers. “You remember the accident?” 

The question had slipped without you truly knowing just what it meant. 

The accident. 

Something flashed in your head, deep within those memories that’d been locked away for so, so long. Chatter and laughter between you and Jumin as you sat close together in a car. The beaming sights of the city and the flickers of the traffic lights -- green, yellow- 

And red. Red. 

An eighteen-wheeler ran a red light when it slammed into your car and despite everything Jumin did to save you, it wasn’t enough. The vehicle still slammed into the remaining traffic and your head still careened through the glass. 

“I nearly died.” You muttered. “I was dead at the hospital for a few seconds -- wasn’t I?” 

All it took was that confession, that realization, for the tears to flow. All those thoughts and feelings flooding back in a horrifying break of pressure. Like the crashing of a dam, it was wholly and entirely uncontrollable. You remembered the pain of the glass smashing against your head and the shards that cracked on your skull. Jumin, hovering over you where the brunt of the metal of your mangled car stabbed him. His leg crushed beneath it all, and still Jumin protecting you. 

“Oh god-” You cried, tears flowing and a weight pressing against your chest. 

Your brain had spent so long coping how it knew best, how else could you withstand the onslaught? 

Jumin raced to catch you, but hesitated at the last moment, arms outstretched and worry painting every inch of him. “Can I...?” 

And then you remembered the first mornings after the mechanism began. How you looked at him and saw a total stranger. You’d screamed and clawed your way with all your might granted to you to the corner of the bedroom, and Jumin just as confused and bewildered as you were. In a moment he’d reached out to you, to explain, or just to offer the slightest bit of comfort and your panic reached a breaking point. You hit him. You hit him and locked yourself in the bathroom, clawing at your trembling body and searching for a single ounce of safety where none could be found. 

Only after had you counted to one thousand through shaky whispers did you feel secure enough to step out. 

There, in the living room, you saw Jumin and despite the fear that’d overtaken you minutes before, at the sight of him, what remained was pity. You couldn’t hear a sound and yet could still tell tears had been shed. 

How could you have done that? No matter the years that’d passed since then the pain and guilt was now. 

When you looked up at Jumin, arms outstretched, all you could muster was, “I’m sorry,” before falling into his arms. 

You stayed like that for a good while, even when you fell to sniffles and shivering. Jumin drew gentle fingers over your spine and pressed you close to his chest. His heartbeat was the only thing keeping you grounded, a gentle thump against your ear to remind you that you were here, and so was Jumin.

It was only interrupted by a knocking on the front door, and you knew just who it was.

“Are you okay if I leave?” Jumin asked quietly. “It’ll only be a moment.” 

You gave a weak nod, but that did little to convince him. 

“Are you sure?” 

Another knock. 

“Yes,” You reassured, sputtering a whimpering that was incredibly embarrassing. “Yes, go get V.” 

“V... you remember him too.” 

You heard hushed whispers between the two of them as Jumin brought V inside. He’d only aged a little, thicker frames for his glasses and a tighter grasp upon his cane. But you recognized him in an instant. 

You sniffled, rising slowly. How much his vision had further faded mattered little for you still offered him a smile. “Hi.” 

V gave a gentle grin, moving closer to take your hand in his own, ever so kindly. His heart only softened over the years. “Hi. How’re you feeling?” 

Your chin quivered despite your best efforts. “Not great.” 

V chuckled and gave a squeeze to your palm. “That just won’t do, will it?” 

Your therapist was given a brief call where for as much explanation Jumin attempted, confusion was ridiculously apparent on both ends. She fumbled for rescheduling the next day and wished you both the best but the pauses between every few words told you enough. 

And instead, V called the RFA. 

They’d come in a rush and one by one you recognized them like light bulbs flickering on. Yoosung. Zen. 707. Jahee. If only in the simplest, tiniest flecks you knew them.

“Are you sure they remember us?” Yoosung whispered to Jumin. “They seem... nervous.” 

Zen elbowed Yoosung’s side, his white hair tied up high and tight. “Wouldn’t you be? It’s like waking up from a four-year coma? Or something like that.” 

“It’s not quite like that,” Jahee remarked. “But the poetic sentiment is surely appreciated.” 

You couldn’t stifle the snicker that brought out of you. Jahee’s eyes brightened. “Did you think that was funny? D-Do you remember me?” 

“I do. You’re Jahee -- Jahee Kang. You’ve always helped me and Jumin, always.” 

Jahee adjusted her glasses so that sunlight could hide perhaps the faintest shine in her gaze, the ends of her lips turning upwards. “Yes, I uh -- I suppose I have.” 

“Well, what about me huh~?” 707 chimed, lazily drooping over Jahee’s shoulder. He soon found himself stumbling as Jahee stepped away, staggering to a stop just before you. He hadn’t lost his silliness, but he had steadied himself in his own way. “Remember me?” 

You nudged his shoulder, scoffing. “Of course I do! You talk too much for me to forget.” 

707 grappled at his chest in mock hurt but the boyish grin never left his face. “Ah! Try to have some compassion, I’m sensitive!” 

Jumin approached you and set a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t overwhelm them. I’m sure this is a lot to take in already.” 

“It is.” You answered. “But I want this, I really do.” 

The next few hours could only be akin to opening up a scrapbook that hadn’t been seen in ages. The stories told between you livened up both the room and your mind -- like holiday lights brightening everything in their wake. RFA parties,  anniversaries, and birthdays all those times that brought you together closer than family. 

Each member of the RFA had waited just as patiently as Jumin for you to come back. The whole day they couldn’t stop reminding you of even the most ridiculous of things you’d done together just so you could erupt into giggles and for all the sorrow and pain that’d arose in the morning you could feel joy at that moment. 

Only when night replaced the day and stars decorated the sky overhead did they leave -- and even then it was reluctant. The RFA refused to leave without a hug at the very least. Yoosung, Jahee, and Zen promised to come by in the morning, 707 promised more than a few calls, and V assured you he’d come by at the drop of a hat if you asked. 

Of course, just as the morning began, it was just you and Jumin. 

“How’re you feeling?” He wondered gingerly as he closed the door behind him. 

“Is there a word for when you’re excited but also overwhelmed?” 

Jumin laughed. “I think you described it perfectly. May I?” 

You nodded and he pressed a kiss to your temple, whispering sweetly. “You did so well, if it helps.” 

You sat down on the sofa with Jumin only falling behind at the sight of the television. He eyed it carefully. More specifically, he eyed the tapes beneath the television. “Would you like to watch one of these?” 

You pointed to the one you knew best. “How about the wedding?” 

The smile that brought Jumin made your very heart swell. He started the video without a word and sat down beside you. Your hands brushed beside one another and slowly enveloped like you’d done so many times before. 

The wedding followed just like you remembered. The music that filled the room and the two of you -- a surprisingly small ceremony with only your closest family. Even through the screen, one could see nothing but absolute adoration between the two of you. You practically hurried down the aisle. 

“Are you... afraid about tomorrow?” Nervousness began to bubble up inside of you, digging your feet into the floor. “About me forgetting in the morning?” 

“I’d be lying if I said no. Something like this -- it just seems too good to be true.” 

In the wedding, you’d begun exchanging vows. You could hardly make it through your beginning sentences without bursting into sheepish snickering. You couldn’t quite remember what Jumin murmured to you when you buried your head in the crook of his neck but you’d both laughed. 

“But I do know, that if something does happen, and you do forget -- we’ll take it one step at a time like we always have.” He softened. “It won’t change a thing.” 

Your eyes grew heavy as you watched the last few minutes of the video, Jumin’s vows as devoted and tender as words could possibly be. Your heart threatened to burst just listening to them all over again. 

“Well, in case I do forget,” You rested your head on Jumin’s shoulder, soon resting his own head against you in return. “I love you.” 

There wasn’t even a second of hesitation from Jumin. It was the last thing you heard before you fell asleep, and it quelled all of your fears for the morning. It was going to be okay, no matter what came. 

You’d do your best to say good morning when the next day arrived. 

“I love you too.” 

[hockeylvr59]

Secret Love Part 19 || Cale Makar

Requested: [ ] yes [x] no

Authors Note: Was hoping to come home to Cale having poured a me a glass of wine ready to celebrate my externship (and me surviving the longest day of my week)....sadly that’s just not reality and this is the only Cale I’ve got so...it’ll just have to do I suppose. 

Warnings: moderate angst, internet trolls.

Word Count: 2,443

~~~~~

You were in the middle of a house showing when your phone started buzzing incessantly. Not wanting to seem unprofessional, you ignored it as you talked with your clients about the features of the house before sending them to explore on their own for a few minutes. 

Checking your phone you saw that you had missed three calls from Laura. There was no reason for her to be calling you repeatedly unless something was wrong and you quickly called her back, your heart pounding. 

“Hey mom I’m in the middle of a showing, what’s up?” 

“Have you heard from Cale today?” She asked.

“Not since first thing this morning…” You replied, anxiety growing. “Mom what’s going on?” 

“Cale’s not answering his phone. We don’t know where he’s at.” You could hear Gary in the background as the two of them rambled back and forth. “Y/N...there are some pretty nasty rumors online about him…” 

Your heart plummeted to the ground and your stomach twisted violently. 

“Send me screenshots?” You pleaded. After just a minute or two, images flooded your phone that made you want to physically vomit. 

Guess even a Calder trophy winner can be a deadbeat dad. 

He’s on vacation while she’s waitressing...classy move there Cale. 

Guess he’s not so perfect after all is he? #quinnshouldhavewonthecalder

Hearing the footsteps of your clients, you pocketed your phone attempting to mask all of the emotions rushing through your mind. After chatting with them about the house, you moved to leave and though you had planned to take them to see two more, your heart just wasn’t in it. Explaining that a family emergency had just popped up, you promised them you would reschedule as soon as possible before sliding into your car. 

Your attempt to get ahold of Cale went straight to voicemail and you groaned just wishing he would pick up. Opening first instagram and then twitter you realized just what had started it all. The avs had posted a summer update about Cale with a few pictures from Iceland that he must have sent their pr department. The top reply on twitter linked an instagram post from Sara’s page where she was obviously pregnant and wearing a waitressing uniform. Her vague status read ‘working for that dough since my baby daddy is useless’ You’d barely looked at all and you were already furious and devastated, you couldn’t even imagine how Cale was feeling. 

Driving home, you called your favorite coworker pleading with her to take what appointments of yours today she could before calling the rest to reschedule. With your work commitments being taken care of, your plan was to go home and change before trying to find Cale. The moment you pulled in your driveway, however, you felt your heart settle because that was definitely Cale’s car. Dialing Laura’s number again you shut your car door quietly, not sure what state you’d find Cale in on the other side of your front door. 

“Hey mom...his car is here. I don’t know what I’m about to find but you know I’ll do everything I can…” Laura insisted that you could call right back if there was anything you needed and after hanging up with her, you slipped your key into the lock, pushing your way inside. 

The house was quiet and after toeing off your shoes, you padded down the hall in search of your boyfriend. The sight that met you as you reached your bedroom door broke your heart. Cale was curled up on your bed, his shoulders shaking with sobs. 

Crawling in beside him, not caring if your dress got rumpled, you pulled his head to your chest, cradling his large frame as best you could. 

“I’m here...I got you.” You whispered, one hand scratching gently over his scalp while the other ran up and down his back. Though Cale buried his head against you, he didn’t react otherwise and you felt his tears gathering against your skin. “What can I do Cale?” You whispered eventually, hating the helpless feeling this situation had left you with. 

The silence of Cale’s response made you swallow hard. You wanted to scream from the rooftops about how people were making false assumptions, how Cale was the victim in this not his ex, how even if they were right it was none of their fucking business in the first place. But you knew it would only make things worse. The only real option was to let things die down on their own. You knew the truth, Cale’s family knew the truth, your family knew the truth, Cale’s teammates knew the truth. What anyone else thought really didn’t matter but that didn’t make it hurt any less. 

When Cale finally cried himself to sleep in your arms, you continued to hold him for a few minutes before you finally pulled yourself from bed. Changing clothes, you grabbed your phone and stepped out to the kitchen for a glass of water, dialing Laura again as you leaned against the kitchen counter. 

“How is he?” She asked immediately. 

“He’s asleep now. Finally cried himself out.” You mumbled. “He hasn’t said a word mom. It’s obvious he’s devastated, but I don’t know what to do. How do I fix this?” 

“You can’t.” She admitted sadly. “Just be there for him. That’s all you can do. It may not feel like much but I’m sure he appreciates it. I appreciate it. I’m glad he’s not alone. That if he didn’t feel comfortable coming home that he felt comfortable enough to go to your home. He’s safe and you can get through this together, we can all get through this together.” 

“Why do people have to be so mean?” You vented, just frustrated with all of it. 

“I can’t answer that. But don’t let this rock your relationship, that would only be giving these people what they want.” She insisted. 

“I’m not going anywhere mom. Cale is stuck with me.” Your words made Laura laugh and you sighed softly. 

“I’m sure he’s so upset about that.” She teased. “My son is absolutely gone for you. I don’t know how I didn’t see it before.” 

“I don’t know mom…” You grinned shaking your head. “Makes me wonder what else he got away with that you don’t know about.” You joked. 

“Not funny Y/N.” She lightly chastised. Taking another sip of water you heard the buzz of a phone that wasn’t yours and you followed the sound, finding Cale’s phone with his keys at the front entry. 

“Hey mom...I’m gonna let you go. I don’t want to leave Cale alone too long even if he’s sleeping.” You said, tucking your phone against your ear as you flipped Cale’s over seeing strings of notifications flash across the screen. 

“Sounds good dear. Love you. Let us know if you need anything.” 

“Will do...love you too mom.” 

You didn’t want to invade Cale’s privacy too much but even a quick glance at his phone told you that his teammates were worried about him. Unlocking his phone with the code you’d memorized just a few days into vacation, you opened his group chat and started typing a message. 

Hey guys, it’s Y/N...I haven’t read more than the 1 or 2 messages that flashed across the notifications screen because I don’t want to overstep. Just thought you guys should know that Cale really isn’t in a mindset to look at his phone. He’s not ignoring you...I’m sure he’ll get back to you guys soon...he just needs some time to process. If you have any urgent concerns my cell number is (587) 122- 3456. 

Before you could talk yourself out of the message, questioning if even that was too intrusive, you pressed send, dropping Cale’s phone back with his car keys. It didn’t take more than a minute for your phone to ring and though you hesitated, answering revealed the voice of Gabe Landeskog. 

“Y/N? This is Gabe.” He greeted. 

“Hey Gabe.” You whispered, moving over toward the couch so that you were a little bit farther away from the open bedroom door. 

“How is he?” The question made you sigh, your head falling back against the couch. 

“Not so good.” You admitted. “He’s asleep right now...hopefully his dreams provide him some peace.” 

“And how are you?” He followed up, not bothering to comment on Cale’s status any further.

“Heartbroken. Angry. Helpless. Take your pick.” You groaned. “There’s nothing I can do but be here and it’s frustrating.” 

“Being there is probably more significant than you realize Y/N. Cale is a very private person and if he trusts you that’s not nothing.” As Gabe spoke you realized that even though you’d told your parents about your relationship, Cale must not have told anyone else yet. 

“I know it’s not. I just…I want to fix it. And I know I can’t. I know we just have to wait and let this die out. But in the meantime I have to watch this tear him apart. It’s hard.” Gabe hummed in acknowledgement, a slightly uncomfortable silence filling the air for a moment before he spoke again. 

“All the guys have his back...your back if you guys need anything. I’ll try and get them to back off a little so he’s not overwhelmed when he’s ready to talk. And I’m sure Cale will appreciate you reaching out to us on his behalf. I know the guys are relieved to know he’s being taken care of.”

“Thanks.” You breathed, still thrown by everything that had happened today. 

“Well I’ll let you go. And Y/N... I’ll have Mel add your number to the Better Halves chat...glad you guys figured it out.” Gabe was just a little too intuitive and you shook your head as you ended the call. 

Cale was still asleep when you crawled back into bed beside him, your hands rubbing soothingly along his skin again. With your brain focused on what you could possibly do to make things better, you missed Cale starting to stir, his blue eyes droopy as he peered over at you. 

“I’m sorry…” The sound of his voice made you jump and when you looked over at him, you saw the distraught expression remained on his face. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this…” As he spoke he shifted to sit up, his legs swinging over the edge of the bed. Moving alongside him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pulling his body back against yours. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for Cale. You did nothing wrong. This is not on you. This is on the idiots who think they know what they’re talking about when they don’t even have the most basic of their facts straight.” Cale flinched just slightly, but you felt it, your heart picking up speed. 

“I still caused you pain. I’m not supposed to do that.” Something told you that the next words to come out of your mouth were possibly the most important words spoken in your relationship...more important than ‘I love you’ had been. 

“Cale Douglas Makar…” You declared, refusing to let him get up from the bed as you shuffled to stand in front of him. “You listen to me and you listen to me well. You are not the cause of my pain. I hurt because you hurt. The people that hurt you are the ones that hurt me...not you.” Forcing Cale’s cheeks up to look at you, you brushed your thumbs along his jaw. 

“Never apologize for ‘dragging me into’ something. We are partners, we are equals. You cannot carry the emotional burden of this relationship alone. And lately you’ve been doing more work in that regard than you should. So DO NOT apologize. It’s my turn to carry the weight. Let me. Let me support you like you’ve supported me. Let me care for you like you care for me. Maybe I can’t physically carry you out of a lava tube...but I can lift you up emotionally, mentally...I can give you the strength to get through this. You are not alone. You have me. And I’m strong enough to handle this even though it upsets me. Use me. Please. Don’t push me away because you think you have to protect me and handle this on your own.” 

Cale’s tears dripped along your fingertips and you leaned forward pulling his body into yours. 

“We’re gonna get through this Cale...it’ll all blow over. And when it does it’ll just prove to the rest of the world what we already know. That you’re incredible. And we’re unshakable. So whatever you need. I’m here. All you have to do is say the word.” 

“I love you.” Cale’s words were muffled by your clothing, but you heard him loud and clear. 

“I love you too. Always will.” You assured him, nails scraping against his scalp again. Staying like that until his breathing steadied, you dipped down to kiss him gently but deeply. 

“C’mon...let’s order a bunch of junk food, put some stupid comedy on tv and just relax.” You directed. “Though you should probably call mom first. She’s a little concerned and I know hearing your voice would make a big difference.” 

When he nodded, you stepped back, though you didn’t make it far before Cale was wrapped around you again. If he needed to be a koala tonight, you were perfectly okay with that. 

“Do you wanna use my phone so you don’t have to look at yours?” You asked softly. “I did jump into your team group chat to tell the boys to back off a little so you shouldn’t have as many notifications but you can use mine if you aren’t ready to deal with any of that.” 

Cale didn’t seem at all fazed that you had used his phone but he willingly accepted yours, calling his mom. You’d placed an order for food on your laptop while they talked and upon the end of that conversation, you settled in on the couch for the night, only moving for food or drinks. As another episode of the sitcom Cale had picked ended, you looked down at him snoring softly, his head on your chest. 

Today had been exhausting...this week had been exhausting, but you’d dealt with it together and now Cale knew that he didn’t have to bear the weight of the world by himself. You were bound to have bad days every now and then, but together you could get through so much more than either of you could separately. 

[writefinch]

Family-Owned Small Business

(CN: incest, sex work, mentions of sexual assault & suicidal ideation)

The worst part of my job is administration. Last-minute rescheduling when a client flakes on us. Chasing up payments. Booking accommodation at short notice. Answering messages! Jesus, every time in the last year when I've slumped, sighed, and thought to myself "fuck working, I need a break from all this" it's been when I've opened my messages and seen thirty different texts that need a reply. Some people are fine with it I guess, but for me it's boring, time consuming, and stressful.

Big deal though, right, I mean nobody loves doing admin, why even bring it up? Well, if I tell someone that for work last night I ate a client's cum out of my mom's pussy, I'd expect that they'd get fixated on the sex work and the incest. I'd expect them to freak out and not pay attention to the specifics of what I'm saying. So, first, I'd like that person to know that the thing I hate about my job is probably the same thing that *they* hate about *their* job. I would rather lick my mom's asshole for five minutes than answer emails for five minutes, and I answer a lot of emails.

Do we have to worry about violence, danger, cops, and legal trouble? Yeah, we do. Am I scared of these things? Yeah, sometimes, but I had to worry about all of those things before I started doing sex work. At least now we've got the money to buy our way out of the worst of it.

I'm not saying that what I do with mom is an objectively healthy relationship, let alone a perfect one. If you took me back in time and told me I could pick a completely different life for me and my mom, I'm sure there's a bunch of choices I'd pick over this one. But I never had that choice. I got hurt a lot growing up. I feel like I've finally escaped the things that hurt me, but I know that I've barely started to recover from them.

That's why I'm writing this. We've saved enough money to afford some therapy and my first session is next week. I want help with the fear, the nightmares, the mood swings and insomnia, I want to stop the rush of rage and terror that flows through me every time I see the word 'dad,' I want help untangling the stuff that came out of being told I was a pansy when I was growing up, then figuring out I'm gay, then figuring out I'm a girl, then figuring out I'm all three of those things while I was living in a place that kept trying to kill me for it. What I don't want is for the psych to pin it all on the two least harmful and least fucked-up things about my life, and worse, I don't want them to make me believe it. This journal is a prophylactic, an assessment of my job, my relationships and my life that I can refer back to if and when someone sticks their fingers in my brain and swirls them around.

I'll start with a problem statement: my dad. The memories that hurt the most are the ones where he almost appeared human, the flickers of joy, curiosity and humor that stood out from the bland cruelty that made up the rest of his personality. I'll remember him buying me ice cream or talking about a book or a movie with me, I'll doubt myself and wonder if I just went crazy and cut him out of my life for no reason, and then my brain will hook onto a random act of sadism he inflicted on me.

The physical abuse was bad all on its own, real psycho shit like driving me out into the woods and making me pick through the brush for a switch he could hit me with and a whole lot more I won't go into, but the emotional abuse was worse. When I was eleven, I forgot to feed my cat one day. He gave her away to my uncle, but told me that she'd developed malnutrition and had to be put down. I didn't find out the truth for another two years, when he just let it slip at Easter. He bragged about it, even, like he'd invented a really smart child-rearing technique. I don't want to write too much down here because I don't need to, if anything I want therapy to *stop* everything he did from running through my head. He's a punishment-obsessed sadist, a Baptist, and he works as a judge. Did he ever sexually abuse me? No. Parent of the year, right? He kicked me out for being a fag the day I turned eighteen, so it's ironic that my biggest fear is that he comes looking for me. He doesn't even know I'm a girl.

On the other hand, my mom has had an interesting life. She's kind of a fuck up. When I was one year old, mom and dad split and dad got full custody--being a judge helped with that--while mom left the state. She spent a decade trying to kick a heroin habit and a year and a half in prison for related stuff, got banned from even entering the state I lived in on account of her parole--again, dad being a judge helped with that--illegally emigrated to Canada for a while, and went to Oregon by mistake, doing a mixture of bartending, delivery driving, MDMA dealing and whoring to stay afloat.

The only reason we met again is that I was in the same city staying with friends, also whoring. I don't remember the first time I saw her, but the first time we talked was in a mutual friend's tiny studio apartment with a few other hooker friends. We ended up comparing our Pest Lists, shared a few drinks, and swapped numbers. A week later we fucked, and a month after *that* we realized that we'd Oedipus'd ourselves. It seems funnier now than it did at the time.

That was an emotional time. We cried with joy that we'd found each other, we started tip-toeing around the ideas of rebuilding our lives together, and we agreed to pretend that the sex had never happened. Of course, we got drunk together a week later and fucked again. She's hot! I have a thing for older women, I have a thing for breaking taboos, and I have a thing for being mommied in bed. Blame dad for raising me like this, I dunno.

We started doing sex work as a team after she got a dental abscess. The bill for the hospital stay and the tooth removal was insane, and the dentist straight-up told her that she'd end up with another in a different tooth within a year if she didn't get two root canals. Even when she was recovering, we could only afford fish antibiotics off of Amazon. We crunched some numbers and made some inquiries, and figured out that we could pull in two week's worth of our combined income with one night of mother-daughter stuff.

Our first joint session was with a real estate pervert I'll call Stan, a chubby balding powerlifter in his fifties who we'd both had as a client before. Mom took me over her knees and switched between spanking me and fingering me while he watched. I sucked him off while mom made out with him, made out with my mom with his cock between our lips, licked his balls as mom licked my ass, then let him fuck my ass while mom sat on my face. That was the first half hour. He came six more times before we passed out in the early hours of the morning, and I drifted off nursing his finally-limp cock in my mouth. He paid us the price of a used Volkswagen for our trouble, and I blew him one last time before we left as a thank-you.

Six months later, mom's teeth were fixed, I was on spiro, and we had just under a dozen clients for our "doubles sessions." Only a few of our appointments are ones with me and mom together, three or four a month, we mostly work alone. That's not out of a deliberate choice, it's just that we've got a strict criteria for who we'll double up on.

Trust is one thing: depending on the lawyers we can afford, what we're doing is either kinda illegal or extremely illegal. Since my dad is presumably still a judge, I don't want him to ever find out about this. He'd put us in a prison or a mental institution. We won't do a double session with a client unless we've both had individual sessions with them.

Money is the other thing. Getting your dick sucked by a hot mom while her daughter sucks your balls costs a week's wages for the average person. Hiring us for the night is more like a month's wages. Even in a city like this, there's only a few thousand people that can drop that kind of money on hookers. Then, they've got to *want* to fuck a trans girl and her mom together. Don't get me wrong, more people are into mother-daughter incest than you'd expect, but it's not a universal thing.

Clients are, on average, annoying. It's a fact of life. The thing that all clients have in common is a ton of disposable income and a fondness for fucking hookers. They're not necessarily bad people, but there’s a heavy ‘What can a banana cost, ten dollars?’ vibe to them. It’s not that they’re adrenochrome-drinkers who don’t see regular people as human, it’s more that they don’t have an intuitive awareness that other people don’t have savings accounts, health insurance, an investment property, and four figures of walking-around money at any given time. I guess I'd feel differently if I was like, a concierge or a PA, but there's a lot more pillow talk in my job.

I've had bad and dangerous clients before, there's been at least two occasions where I was pretty sure I was going to die--one where the hospital afterwards stay wiped out four months of income, not counting the month where I couldn’t work--but they were all before I met mom, when I couldn't be so careful about screening prospective clients and dropping them if they threw up red flags. I'm sure we'll get bad clients in the future, but we're in a better place to deal with them safely.

I also wanna write down what a "normal day" is like. Friday was a good example. I woke up early at 9am and cooked breakfast for mom. She was up already doing the laundry. We entertain some clients in our apartment, so we go through a lot of clothes and a lot of sheets. You can't fuck a guy on top of another guy's cum stains, that's rude. Some of the job is Housework But More. We don't really use the main bedroom or the sitting room because we treat them like bed and breakfast guest rooms. It's annoying but every time we have a session without getting an actual hotel or motel room we save like $50 minimum.

After breakfast I epilated, showered, and went for a run. Personal grooming isn't that big a deal in terms of time, I'm not saying I don't spend a lot of time on it, I do, but I'd be spending that time even if I worked in a bar or an office or something. Look: I'm hot. I might have been a weird-looking spotty nerd when I thought I was a boy, but as a girl I'm a fucking dime. I could get like, 25% uglier before it had any impact on my earnings. The only part of personal grooming that's necessary for sex work and I wouldn't do all the time anyway is power-washing my guts an hour before every session.

After lunch, mom went to see some friends and I played Magic for a few hours. At two pm, the actual work started. I picked up the work phone for the first time that day and began answering texts. An hour later I'd cancelled the 6pm appointment, blocked out all of Sunday evening, checked in with a few regulars, and provisionally moved three guys to the 'Time Wasters' list.

I spent a while sexting with a good prospect. He was a good prospect because he paid up-front for the sexting instead of treating it like a free samples platter at Costco. We scheduled a tentative appointment for next Tuesday, when his wife would be out of town on a business trip. Most of the guys I fuck have kinks, and I swear that 'cheating on your wife with a sex worker' is the most common one there is. Do I feel bad about it? At my hourly rate, absolutely not.

Mom got back at half four, so I took a break. We made tacos for lunch together and ate while watching Billions. She nudged me and told me that I need to do my injection, and, well, we have a little ritual for that. I'm scatterbrained and I'm not great with needles, but mom has been incredibly supportive with my HRT, and when I told her I was having problems taking them on time, she came up with a way to make me as comfortable as possible. As soon as the needle is ready, I laid down in her lap and she cradled my head in her arms, pressing her bare chest against my face. I took a nipple into my mouth and nursed it softly while she stroked my hair. She called me a good girl, telling me how proud she is of her daughter, how much she loves me, and asked if I was going to take my medicine like a big girl. On good days I inject myself while she pets me and coos over me, and on bad days she takes the needle and does it for me. As soon as I dropped the needle in the sharps container, mom pressed a Hitachi against my cock and took one of my nipples into her mouth, called me her big brave girl, and asked if I was gonna cum for mommy.

As usual, the answer was yes.

Late afternoon and early evening is when the messages start flowing in, especially on Fridays, when the kinds of people with hooker money have either left work early and thinking about getting laid, or are still held up at work and are desperately thinking about getting laid. This kind of messaging gets trickier, because it comes down to what I'm providing. Like, setting up a session is the kind of normal administrative stuff that's baked into the price of a session. It's also partly a sales job, so I'm naturally flirty and solicitous, and because I do sex work I talk openly about sex.

However, *sexting* is not normal administrative stuff. If I'm sending you messages for jerking-off purposes, I can charge by the hour or by the text but I will insist on charging for it. Also, it's not just sex that me and mom provide. There's a reason that 'companionship' is an old euphemism for whoring, it's because whores are good company. I'm a good listener and I don't judge, which means I'm like the fun parts of a therapist but without all the homework and self-improvement. I'm (unsurprisingly) friendly with all of my clients, and I have more than a few clients and former clients who I'd consider good friends and vice versa. I talk to a bunch of them outside of a business context, especially the ones I met outside of my job, and that's a normal part of maintaining a pool of clients for any sales job, but on the other hand... it's a demand on my time and it's a part of my services. I can and have bluntly told guys that they're wasting my time when it comes to uncompensated sexting, but the platonic stuff requires a lighter touch.

One of my regulars, Fintech Pete, sent me a message. Two messages later, he sent me $100, and we're off. Describing in gratuitous detail exactly how I'm going to suck his cock, begging him to fuck me until my clit is drooling all over the sheets, sending him feet pics, things of that nature. Pete is great for sexting because he barely jerks off while he's doing it, he saves all the messages and pictures and jerks off to them later, because he's got some biohacking routine where he only cums once a week. He said once that part of the reason he hires sex workers is that he takes each nut a lot more seriously if he's paying three digits minimum for the privilege. He does this teleconferencing report with the board of directors at his company four times a year, and every time he hires me to kneel under the desk in his home office and suck him off while he makes his presentation.

Anyway, while we were going back and forth like that, he mentioned that I'd made a joke one time about doing a joint session with my mom. I told him it wasn't a joke, and to cut a long story short, half an hour later I was asking mom if she was up for an overnight session starting at 9pm. She agreed, Pete confirmed, so we both got ready--think getting dolled up for a night out but with a more thorough enema--and drove to his place. He lived outside of town in a two-bedroom suburban home, alone with his two dogs.

As soon as we were parked in his garage I did the safety call in front of him: I rang a friend of mine, told her we were visiting a friend, told her it was at the address I sent her earlier, and told her we'd call her again tomorrow morning. Was it really necessary to do that with someone like Fintech Pete? No, but practice makes permanent. If you let these things slip when there's no danger, eventually they'll slip when there is danger.

Now, I don't want to imply that I'm in a lot of danger! There's a reason that most of the faces you'll see on the Trans Day of Remembrance are of poor black and brown women, because real danger comes when you can't turn skeevy jobs, when you can't afford to take precautions, when you have to make the choice over and over between maybe starving and maybe getting murdered. I'm white, I've got a good support network, and I've been relatively lucky in that I can do all these things to minimize my risks. I've still got to do them, though! Things like safety calls are a good habit to get into and it helps all sex workers if there's an expectation that they've all got someone looking out for them.

...I get that there is some bravado creeping into this journal. I start off saying that admin is the worst part of the job and a page later I flippantly mention that the job has put me in the hospital. On a day to day basis yeah, the admin is the bit that sucks the most, but if you offered me a deal where the admin is twice as bad but I never took that session, I’d take it in a heartbeat. This job has left me with some scars. Any time something cold touches my wrist I get a vivid flash of the first time I had my hands zip-tied behind my back in a cop car. I've had nightmares all my life, and more than a few of my nightmares are about stuff that's happened since I got into sex work.

If it seems like I’m downplaying it, it’s because the harrowing stuff is where the job has gone wrong, it’s not baked into the everyday stuff, and most importantly it has nothing to do with my mom. The work I've done with her is some of the least stressful and dangerous I've had since I started this job, and whatever wounds I have, she's not the one who caused them.

On a more positive note, a cool thing about doing sessions with my mom is that we can dress pretty conservatively and still have it come off as insanely lewd. Mom wore a black cocktail dress with an imitation pearl necklace and her hair up in a bun, I was in a white blouse under a lambswool sweater, a pleated short skirt, cheap dark tights--Pete has a thing for tearing them--and patent leather shoes. When you're going to suck a guy's world entirely off alongside your mom, the more modestly you're dressed, the more perverted it looks. Out in the suburbs it also means you get to avoid the microskirts and fishnets look which screams to the neighbors 'I've just hired a pair of hookers' or the mid-range raincoat over microskirts and fishnets look which screams 'I've just hired a pair of pricey hookers."

Pete's living room looks like the back room of a Radio Shack, computer guts everywhere, every surface turned into a makeshift workbench. It's not a suitable place for lovemaking; I don't want to have to pull shards of a soundcard out of my perineum. His bedroom is a lot neater, with a king-sized bed to sit on, a ton of pillows to lounge up against, and a TV mounted on the wall. Mom poured out some wine, a mid-range red zinfandel that we'd picked up on the way, Pete brought out some imported dark chocolate that costs like $40/kg, and I swung my legs over his lap and turned on the Food Network. I took a bite of chocolate, mom took a sip of wine, and before either of us swallowed she pulled me into a deep kiss, mixing the wine and the chocolate. It's a good combination, and Pete enjoyed the show.

The night started off with chatting. None of us were in any rush, not with an overnight session, and since Pete has been a client for each of us for a while it was a pretty relaxed atmosphere. Pete's fingers danced over my thighs, absent-mindedly plucking ladders into the fabric as we talked baseball, business, sex work, the difference between the gentrified fag bar downtown and the really gentrified fag bar downtown, programming and other nerd shit, local politics, the contestants on Cutthroat Kitchen, just normal stuff. Mom and Pete started talking about fancy cooking stuff so I started annoying them both by claiming that sardines are just fully-grown anchovies, that DOP labels are all fake, and that instant grits are better than the regular ones until mom jabbed me with a finger and told me that my mouth should be put to better use elsewhere.

You know how some people say "Cilantro tastes like soap, that's why it's good?" Same thing for how weird it feels to go down on my mom. The first time I ever jerked off, watching a 144p clip of Rocco Sifreddi fucking a girl in the ass while flushing her head down a toilet bowl, knowing that this meant I was going to go to Hell unless I begged God for forgiveness and never did it again, I came so hard I passed out. It feels good, it feels wrong that it feels so good, and it feels even better because it feels so wrong.

She was already wet when I got between her legs. I kissed her clit and started licking, her bush tickling my nose and her thighs squeezing my ears. Fabric rasped over my head as she hiked her dress up to run her hand through my hair. Everything was muffled but I could hear kissing and clinking, and I knew that mom was undoing Pete's belt and jeans to give him a Catholic-quality handjob.

I got mom worked up, bucking her hips and getting all breathy, until she asked me to get up here and give her some help. I crawled up to his groin and winked up at him. He blushed and grinned back. Pete's not a bad-looking guy. I mean, I don't care about looks in general, I guess I can look at someone and say that objectively they're ugly, and if someone is beautiful it adds something to the experience, but like... it doesn't really figure into it. Obviously most johns don't look like supermodels but they're not uniformly ugly, as I said before the thing that johns have in common is being horny guys with a lot of disposable income. Still, Pete is towards the better-looking side of that scale.

...Okay there is one thing about him that's weirdly common for my clients, I call it 'John Balding:' where a guy is losing his hair but in a slow, uneven, and kinda weird pattern, so that even when they cross into being more bald than not, they never bite the bullet and shave it all off. Pete is only like 30% of the way through that process so it doesn't look terrible yet, but he's on that track.

Anyway, back to the sex. A fun thing about double blowjobs is that you can take them a whole lot slower than solo blowjobs. Me and mom have had a lot of practice so we go at about 1/4th speed and it feels twice as good. She started off by wrapping her hand around the shaft, slowly stroking it while she softly kissed the tip, and I licked his balls, gently lapping at one, then the other, cleaning away the day's sweat and musk, carefully taking both of them into my mouth at once. Mom swallowed half his length, and I started kissing my way up his shaft as she pulled back up, my lips touching the head as hers reached the very tip. She grabbed me by my hair and pulled me into a deep French kiss with his cock in the middle, precum mixing with spit, moaning as we felt him twitch and grunt, mom's hand on his balls and my hand on his shaft. We broke the kiss and repeated it in reverse, taking his cock in my throat as mom kissed her way down to his balls. He came after five minutes of gentle little schoolgirl kisses on each side of his cock from the pair of us. The first rope caught mom on her cheek, the second hit her hair, but I wrapped my lips tight around the head and sucked him dry before he could spill another drop.

You can't give a client a mother-daughter blowjob and not snowball the cum back and forth in front of him. We've done it enough times to get the timing down: wait until he sits up straight, because if you don't he'll be too dazed from nutting in your mouth to really appreciate it. Make sure he's looking at you, move your hair out of the way so it doesn't obstruct his view, open your lips so that a trickle of jizz almost sloshes out, move in close to your mom so that your noses are touching and it's clear that you're about to kiss, sink a palm into her tits as she grabs your ass, and then you gotta really go for it: wide-mouthed, feral, energetic, like you're trying to reach each other's sinuses. If a little bit of cum spills out because you're being so sloppy, that's a sign that you're doing it right. You're going to lick it up afterwards anyway.

We broke the kiss, I licked mom's face clean, and we took a break. We drank some more wine, he offered us cigarettes--the coolest clients are the ones that let you smoke indoors--and we cuddled and relaxed for a while with Guy's Grocery Games playing on the TV. Pete went to get some water, and returned with three bottles and a strip of Cialis. He downed two pills, we both stripped off--it was sweltering by that point--and got ready for the next round.

Mom played with his nipples and I got between his legs again, this time going lower than his balls to eat his ass out. Rimming is a trusted client privilege like the mom-daughter stuff is, except it's less about trusting them in the legal sense and more about trusting that it won't be grainy down there. I like it when a client is clean enough to rim, because I'm extremely good at it. Mom says she's better, she claims she once made a guy no-touch cum with a rimjob, but I don't fucking believe her.

He got hard after a minute of digging my tongue into his ass, but his cock was still super-sensitive so we figured we'd tease him for a while longer. We swapped places, mom ate his ass while he made out with me, squeezing my tits and playing with my cock. I like it when guys touch my tits, my cock is... fine, I guess? I don't viscerally dislike people touching it but it doesn't do much for me. After a minute of that he reaches around and works a finger into my asshole, which is much more my speed.

By the time he was two knuckles deep I looked down and saw his cock twitching, leaking precum onto his stomach. He seemed pretty worked up. I kissed his neck, nipped at his ear, and whispered, "Do you wanna breed me, Mister?"

He sure did.

I use condoms unless I've got an extremely compelling reason not to, and mom has a cool trick for getting them on. She grasped Pete's cock around the base, placed her lips around the tip, deepthroated the entire thing in a single stroke, and as she slowly lifted her head back up, his cock was neatly fitted with a condom.

As soon as I lubed up he put me on my back, pushed my ankles up to my ears,  pressed his cock against my hole and sunk into me inch by inch. He muffled my moans with a kiss and rutted me into the bed. I gotta give it to him, all that biohacking and cardio is doing something right because he railed me at a fast, steady pace until my dick was leaking all over my tummy and I couldn't form sentences in my head any more. Mom made out with him as he finished, and at that point I was just babbling nonsense. He was gentle and cautious as he pulled out of me, stroking my hair as I reached down to take off his condom. I poured the contents out over my tits, slumping back against the headboard as mom licked them clean.

It wasn't yet midnight by then, and we went on like that through the night. Licking his feet, mom-daughter 69, him sucking my cock while mom rode his dick like a Sorority cowgirl champion, more wine, more double-blowjobs, tacking an extra $200 onto the fee for the privilege of pissing in my mouth instead of having to get up to go to the bathroom, a whole buffet of fun whore stuff.

We woke up at around ten in the morning, stayed for breakfast, then said our goodbyes. Me and mom thanked him for his custom, and he thanked us for a good time. By midday we were at home, we both showered, checked our calendars, messaged our evening clients to confirm that they were still on, and then... well, the rest of the day kinda evaporated. I played Demons' Souls until I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer, passed out in bed, and woke up when my alarm went off in the evening.

That's one of the things I don't like about overnight sessions: you're technically only spending like, ten to twelve hours with a client, and for some of that time you're either not fucking or actively asleep, but it kinda feels like it destroys two days. By the time it's scheduled, everything in the rest of the day is either preparing for it or doing it, and when you get back it takes the rest of the day just to recover. I don't like that part of my job, and if I sit down I can probably go through a whole bunch of things I don't like about my job. I still know that my job isn't a *bad* job, because the last time I had a bad job it was at a chicken processing plant. Know how I know that the chicken job was bad? Because I excused myself for a bathroom break four hours into the shift, walked off site, and never came back.

You know what, there's another reason I know that this isn't a bad job and that mom isn't a bad mom, and I guess it's part of the reason I've written all this down in the first place. I was seven years old when I first wanted to die. By the time I got to high school, suicidal thoughts were just the radio static in my brain. I can't remember any point after like, grade school where I didn't daydream about suicide every single day.

Now? I sometimes go for weeks without thinking about killing myself. It hasn't gone away completely, it still pops up when I'm upset or stressed out or tired or really hungry, but what I do is I talk to mom about it, and she talks me out of it. I feel guilty sometimes about putting that pressure on her, and taking that pressure off is part of the reason I'm going to therapy I guess.

I hope it works out.

I really think it will.

[quicksilversquared]

The Cat’s Girlfriend

Apparently not satisfied with the attention that her stories and previous Ladyblog interviews are getting her, Lila decided to claim that she was dating Chat Noir, which Chat Noir's civilian self has some problems with that. He can't really dispute the claim as Adrien, but- well, sometimes opportunities pop up when they're least expected.

links in the reblog

Lila had loved telling her superhero stories for months. She had become Ladybug's best friend only days after arriving in Paris, of course. Her grandparents had been superheroes in Italy. She and Ladybug hung out all the time, eating snacks that Lila had baked herself- she had been taught by a master baker, after all, and Ladybug set fire to anything she tried to bake, so it only made sense- and talking battle strategy. Ladybug took Lila to her and Chat Noir's hangout spots all the time- Lila showed off pictures that had clearly been taken from the top observation deck at night as proof. She helped Ladybug match powers and Miraculous, and wasn't it a pity that her hard work helping had been destroyed with Queen Wasp's appearance?

But her claim that she was actually dating Chat Noir? That was new.

Their classmates oohed and ahhed, exchanging excited looks while Lila ducked her head bashfully, not-so-subtly basking in the attention and fielding questions with a shy look on her face.

"Apparently her last story had stopped getting her enough attention," Plagg snickered from inside of Adrien's jacket. "Whatcha going to do about this story? Just let people believe that Chat Noir is dating Lila?"

"What else can I do?" Adrien hissed back. He didn't like it, but Adrien wasn't supposed to know what was going on in Chat Noir's private life. If he tried to claim anything else, then people would be suspicious and it would just draw unwanted attention. If he had an opportunity to correct the story as Chat Noir, then he would, but the chances of him getting that opportunity? Really low.

(After all, if he brought it up out of the blue, then that would suggest that he was close enough to hear Lila, unless Alya posted about it on her blog. And even if she did... well, it might be seen as mean-spirited to just bring up and bash that one specific claim when he hadn't been asked about it, even if it would totally be well within his right to do so.)

The bell cut off the questions, and everyone broke away from huddle around Lila. Almost against his will, Adrien's attention slid backwards as Alya and Marinette returned to their seats. No doubt Marinette would point out the very obvious holes in Lila's claims- after all, everyone with eyes could see that Chat Noir was interested in Ladybug, not a random lying civilian- and then Alya would just dig her heels in, ignoring all of the holes in the story in favor of complaining that Marinette wasn't giving Lila a chance.

It happened every time, after all. Adrien could understand why- it was really annoying to see their friends suckered, over and over again, and Marinette was all about justice and fairness- but they just weren't getting anywhere.

(He had tried jumping in on Marinette's side the week before, because Lila had been trying to get a class outing rescheduled because she was "going to be gone" and "would hate to miss it- she would feel so left out!" and rescheduling would have fallen on Marinette, but Alya had just dug in even deeper, meeting his resistance with her own. So that- well, it hadn't worked.)

(Thankfully Marinette had flat-out refused to change the date, informing the entire class that if they wanted to come up with a second outing on a date that worked for Lila, that was up to them but she was too busy to change everything.)

"She's so lucky that she's Chat Noir's girlfriend," Alya was gushing behind Adrien. "Ladybug as her best friend, Chat Noir as her boyfriend- I bet Ladybug introduced the two of them! And it's no wonder that he's interested, because she's a sort of civilian superhero on her own, isn't she? With all of her charity work and everything."

Adrien cringed. Here it came, another argument between two besties-

"You know, I bet that Chat Noir would love to tell you how they got together! He seems the romantic type- y'know, the kind to absolutely gush about their girlfriend?"

Adrien's mind flatlined.

...what.

"I bet that would make a really great video for the Ladyblog," Marinette continued, and Adrien turned to- well, not to stare, because that would be rude, but to try to figure out what was going on. Had Marinette been akumatized? Or, more likely, had Lila been akumatized and now was controlling Marinette like a puppet? "I know you said that videos have been slow lately, because too many of the fights have been too dangerous for you to get close, so maybe a superhero's personal life interest piece would help with that?"

"Ooh, yeah!" Alya agreed, hand shooting out to snag her notebook and pencil, and Adrien blinked in confusion. Had both of them been taken over by weird body-snatchers or something? Their Lila-centric conversations never went like this. "I can interview both of them! Lila said that I could ask her about their relationship after class today, so I can get her side of the story then, but yeah, my viewers would love to hear it from Chat Noir, too. I'll ask him for the story after the next akuma fight! Well, the next one I can get to," she corrected, looking a bit sheepish. "My parents said that if I run off again and leave my sisters in the apartment when I'm meant to be babysitting, I'll be grounded for a month. And I can't get out of school. But the next chance I get! Now I gotta think up questions before that happens- I can't get caught unprepared!"

Alya started scribbling furiously in her notebook, Adrien's eyes slid over to Marinette. She caught his gaze and her lips twitched up in a smirk before she winked, and it all fell into place. Once again, Marinette was proving just how smart she was and how well she could put that into practice when she wasn't letting her frustration blind her.

Clever, Marinette. Instead of doing the same thing she always did and arguing with Alya about Lila, she had outwardly gone along with it and in doing so, had managed to steer Alya into doing exactly what she wanted to. Now Alya would go to Chat Noir, not to fact check but just to get more information for her scoop, and end up find out exactly how truthless Lila's stories were.

...well, he might just get his perfect opportunity to debunk Lila's lies after all.

  It really was no real surprise when Ladybug and Chat Noir spotted Alya biking after them during the next akuma attack. She kept on their tails, cell phone apparently mounted on the front end of her bike to minimize the likelihood that she would lose control of the bike while steering one-handed, and was the first reporter on-site after the akuma had been defeated and it was safe to approach.

Considering that she wanted her story first, that was no real surprise. She had to get to them first, since Lila's "side of the story" had been filmed and posted the previous day. Adrien had been surprised by that, but after texting Marinette, it had all become clear. Alya had never been known for her patience, and, well, two posts and two videos were better than one! So she had posted the interview with Lila, promising a "part two" soon. That meant that people would be interested, and they would no doubt come back regularly until the part two was posted.

(And they would, Adrien knew that. Apparently Lila had heavily implied that she knew who Chat Noir's civilian self was, though she hadn't said it outright, and that had people clamoring for more interviews to try to get any clues they could.)

...he had to feel a little bad for Alya, honestly. There would be no easy way for her to hide the fact that she hadn't fact-checked any of her articles featuring Lila and her friendship with Ladybug, and that wouldn't reflect well on her. Still, she couldn't say that Marinette hadn't warned her.

Maybe this would just be a much-needed wake-up call to Alya that she couldn't just dig her heels in and not check her facts just because she thought that she was right.

"Ladybug! Chat Noir!" Alya called eagerly, biking over eagerly and yanking her phone from the holder as she practically tossed her bike aside. "Do you have a few minutes for a quick interview?"

"It depends on how quick," Ladybug quipped. "I have three minutes, I think, and Chat Noir, you have-?"

"Four." He considered Alya. "But I'll have to go in two or three to be safe."

"Great!" Alya practically shoved her phone in his face, and it was only his model training that kept Chat Noir from yanking his head back and giving himself several chins in the process. "So, I recently learned about your relationship with the one and only fantastic Lila Rossi, and Paris and I would love to hear your side of the story of how you got together!" The camera swung to Ladybug briefly. "And how you helped set them up!"

Hook, line, and sinker. He had Alya right where he wanted her. Thank you, Marinette.

"You must be mistaken, I'm not dating anyone," Chat Noir told her, pasting on his best puzzled look. "All of Paris knows that I only have eyes for Ladybug, after all. I don't know why anyone would think otherwise." He shrugged. "Someone must just be spreading rumors."

Alya paused, clearly taken aback. The phone inched backwards a hair. "But- but Lila told me herself! All about how Ladybug introduced the two of you, and how you got closer, and- and-"

Next to him, Ladybug let out an exasperated sigh. "I thought I told Lila to quit making up stories about knowing me months ago. It was annoying then, it's still annoying now, and I'm certainly not thrilled that she's dragging Chat Noir into it now, too. I'm sure that if she's been making up stories about other famous people, that they're not thrilled about it either."

Alya took a slow step back, looking a bit paler than usual. Admirably, though, she kept on filming, even though she had to know that her integrity as a reporter was getting torn apart live. "I- oh."

"The first time either of us met Lila Rossi was at or right before her akumatization into Volpina for the first time," Chat Noir chimed in. "And the only time either of us has come into contact with her is during akuma battles, either when she was akumatized herself or when she was purposefully getting in our way by claiming that she was badly injured and needed attention. If she's claiming otherwise- well, then it's her own fault if Hawkmoth decides to target her thinking that we're friends. I suspect that she's just making up all sorts of tall tales to get people to like her so that she can manipulate them into doing what she wants."

"Oh."

"I had hoped that such a public call-out wouldn't be necessary and that Lila would realize that lying about having connections with famous people such as superheroes was wrong, but clearly talking to her relatively privately hasn't done a thing." Ladybug glanced around at all of the assembled reporters. They had caught up now and were eagerly recording. "So I might as well make it clear: We are not connected to Lila Rossi in any way. I am not friends with her, Chat Noir is not dating her, and any claims to the contrary are not at all based in fact. She is lying about having connections for her own gain, and I would take any stories she tells with a huge grain of salt." She waved, winding up to throw her yo-yo. "Bug out!"

...well, clearly Ladybug wasn't going to give Lila any wriggle room. Harsh, but admittedly deserved at this point.

"She said it all, folks," Chat Noir told the cameras with a winning smile. "Any stories from Lila Rossi should probably not be trusted, at least not without a very in-depth check first. If something sounds too good to be true, well..." He shrugged, determined not to lose his cheer. "It just might be."

With that, Chat Noir took off into the sky, heading back home and feeling lighter than he had for a while, a load off of his shoulders now that the rest of the world- well, Paris at least- knew not to trust Lila Rossi. Maybe it was a bit of a dramatic approach to the problem, as highly publicized as the call-out had been, but if he had learned nothing else during the months of dealing with Lila that they had gone through, it was that she was slippery and would just come up with more excuses. Maybe there would be fallout- fallout that he had, admittedly, initially been hoping to avoid, with Lila no doubt pouncing on yet another akuma to try to get revenge- but in the end, everything would hopefully be better.

It was weird to say, really, but maybe Lila lying about dating Chat Noir had been the best thing that could have happened, since it had provided the perfect opening for the superheroes to correct the lies that she had been spreading without looking like they were picking her out unfairly. If they were super lucky, maybe the added publicity from all of the major news stations would get the attention of Lila's mom, and some of her other lies would start unraveling with a vengeance.

Even if that didn't happen, Alya and the rest of their classmates would be aware of Lila's lying now. They weren't going to trust her, which meant that Lila would be left powerless. She couldn't do anything when everyone around her was aware of her manipulations.

The rest of the school year was truly looking up.